Something You'd Never Know Part Two

So yesterday I spent a while on a thread on GR speaking about coming to terms with being transgender.  Now I know that the people questioning me were not attacking me, but I didn't realize this at first, it took me venting and shaking and crying to a friend of mine before I realized that these people were probably just trying to understand me.

See unless you email me you'd never know how I agonized over coming out.  You'd never know the conversations I had with Sidney and Thorny and K Ray and Luci and Kate.  You wouldn't have read the emails where I tried to rationalize how I felt, tried to explain it away, tried to ignore it, laugh it off, the way I had a panic attack when I realized the truth about who I really am.

It's not something I shared here on my blog.

And maybe that was wrong.  I mean I have always prided myself on being open with you all, but I don't share everything, some things are just for me.  Just as you're entitled to your privacy, I am entitled to mine.  So I didn't share that.

I didn't share that I tried to commit suicide about two months ago.  That I picked up a knife and tried to slice my wrists because I was so freaked out about everything, that it took my friend Keesha and an email from Thorny to save my life.

It's not something I wanted to share.

I also didn't share that when I was growing up I never wanted to wear skirts or dresses.  I hated the stupid purses my mother used to always buy me and that every Easter when my mother and aunt would go out and buy our Easter clothes I always pitched a fit because I wanted to wear a suit and not a "stupid dress with lace and flowers."  I didn't mention that when I was 10 and I had that tantrum that my mother pulled out this thin leather belt and whipped me in the dressing room and then told me that if I cried too loudly she was going to get my father to deal with me when we got home.  That was the last time I tried to fight about wearing a suit.

It's not something I wanted to share.

I didn't tell you all about the day that I realized that I didn't actually love my tits and being a woman, but I loved my family and I knew that if I didn't have those things, if I didn't live as a woman, wearing heels, wearing makeup, wearing flattering outfits that I wouldn't have my family anymore.  And it may be wrong, but I loved my family enough to be the woman who merely wanted a dick and prostate that could be hidden from plain sight in order to keep my family.

It's not something I thought I had to share.

Many of you read the post when I talked about my mother finding the pamphlets and brochures about reassignment surgery.  Many of you read the post where I talked about the exorcism I endured.  You all saw the way I stopped talking about my desire to be both and my need to be what I'd been fighting my whole life, being a man.

It's not something I thought I had to share.

There are times when I still think of myself as "bi-gender" or what others are calling gender queer, is it because that's a more accurate description of who I am?  No.  It's because at this point I'm still filled with glass sticking out from skin, still so emotionally fragile and hurt and sensitive that I am still fighting my need to dress up in women's clothes (what to me would be considered "drag") and go to my parents's house and beg them to let me come back, to turn my back on everything and just continue living as I have been.  Hiding my books, ignoring my need, my desires, my dreams, my wants, my truth, in order to have my family, in order to not be homeless in order to know who I am, even if who I am is a lie.  This whole feeling like a man but seeing a woman is horrific for me.  I avoid the mirrors.  I don't brush my hair or my teeth in front of the mirror, because I don't like seeing a woman looking back at me.  That's not something I've ever told you.

It's not something I wanted to share.

But reading the comments and the questions on this thread I had to ask myself if I was remiss in not doing so. Can I let you in 75% and then hide 25% from you?  But is it fair to offer up all of me to people who are offering me nothing?  Not necessarily you all, but people on the thread.

My life is, for the most part, an open book.  I don't mind answering questions for those who are trying to get a general understanding of my life and the process I am undertaking, the transition I am going through.  I want people to understand, but at the same time I want them to understand that on here, in this blog on GR, on twitter and tumblr, I'm not going to give you 100% of me.  It's not fair to ask that of me and especially if you're not going to give me the same thing in return.  Realize that of the millions of thoughts that run through my head, the emotions I've dealt with, the memories I have, the interactions I've experienced, the childhood I grew up with, I may only share with you 2 of them and that's fine.  Don't ask me for something that you're not going to give and don't instantly go on the defensive if I feel as if you're attacking me because of you asking me something that most people already know.

There are different facets to me.  There are parts of me that I'm realizing are just reflections of my parents, my family.  There are echoes in my brain and my heart that aren't my voice, but their voices of condemnation and judgement.  There are things that I will share and things that you will never, ever know.  If there's ever a time when you want to ask me a question, however: "Vic you said this five months ago and now you're saying this, what gives?"  Realize that I'll answer, but also understand that I'm like Julia Roberts in "The Runaway Bride" after she met Richard Gere, except Richard Gere was my true self and in order to be "with" my true self I have to figure out how I really think about some things, what I really like and what I really don't, who I really am and how I really feel about that.  I'm growing and learning and living my truth and even though I've pretty much invited you all to go on this journey with me by having this blog, there are still some things that you will never know.

You can accept it or hit the unfollow button, it's that simple.  Not saying that I won't miss seeing your comments, but at this stage in my life I've had about all I can handle of people only supporting me if I fit into their idea of how I should live, of people who say: this is who you are and you can never change, or people who say: everyone who says they are like you have felt like this, you don't so you're not one of them.  Realize that b/c I didn't share it doesn't mean that I didn't feel it or think it.  It's just something that I didn't share with you.

And that's perfectly fine.

{HUGZ AND SQUEEZES AND FIST BUMPS}
-Vic

His Story

He was born Justin. Half French, half Italian, he was gorgeous. He IS gorgeous, atleast he was the last time I saw him. Now his body is being covered with black sores, his body, usually a hard mass of muscle and physical perfection is losing its definition as he loses weight during this hard time of his life. We met in high school, he was just another addition to my ragtag bunch of friends, all of us different, gay, transgendered, straight, bisexual, Wiccans, Atheists, Christians, Buddhists, Agnostics, Spiritual, Hermaphrodite, Cripple, we were a bunch of people who became friends because of our love for the theater, drama, music, sex, alcohol, and amazingly enough our mutual love for Brad Pitt.
Justin, Ryan, Angel, and I naturally gravitated towards each other. We were far and away the most dramatic and flamboyant of our little makeshift "family" of 15. We were all outcasts, the black sheep, who just happened to be the most popular people around. All for different reasons. Angel, the gorgeous Puerto Rican boy who women desperately wanted to turn straight and for whom men were willing to turn gay, was always known as being the life of the party, with his flair for fashion, he was Lady Gaga before Gaga existed. I was the chameleon, able to blend in with my surroundings yet staying true to who I really was. I was popular because of my talent, my ability to accomplish whatever I truly set my mind to and because while I wasn't considered "beautiful," guys were still drawn to me. Ryan, the hermaphrodite of our "family" was popular because of how smart he was, his sarcastic wit, and because he was one of the few open-minded, TRULY loving Christians that existed. Justin, however, was a force to be reckoned with. A hulking mass of sexiness, he was popular because he was beautiful, his smile could stop traffic, he was the biggest sweetheart in the world and while girls were often brokenhearted when he told them he was "a flaming homosexual" they were only too happy to consider him a friend.
Justin was free-spirited. Then again, we all were. Spending our days skipping class or daydreaming about moving to Los Angeles and becoming "Super-Celebrities" in our own ways. Justin wanted to be the highest paid porn star in the world and be President of the United States....simultaneously. He dreamed big and often. He was also one of my biggest supporters/fans. Justin could never understand it if a guy didn't find me attractive, or if someone told me "no," or if I got turned down for anything. He always seemed truly shocked. That was Justin's thing though, he believed that all of his friends were the best thing walking and could never believe it when someone disagreed with him.
Justin grew up in a family where his parents were just as free-spirited and flighty as he was. They changed ideals, beliefs, religions, and values about as much as they changed the furniture in their house. Perhaps that attributed to Justin's restless spirit, or perhaps it was always there, regardless, Justin was not one for committing to anything, not a job, not a place, and especially not a relationship. So it was to the shock of all of us when he told us that he had not only been in a committed relationship with the same guy for a year but that he was in love with him. Being the type of friends that we are, we immediately teased and berated him for it before asking to meet the guy in question, Isaac.
Isaac was your typical rich boy, spoiled, entitled, arrogant, thinking he was God's gift to men AND women and I of course had a problem with him dating my best friend, especially when he hit on me one night and told me not to tell (which of course I did). Isaac and Justin's relationship was fraught with violent arguments and fighting, excessive drinking and drug usage, and other addictive behavior. Isaac also cheated on Justin....repeatedly. Justin always took Isaac back, much to the chagrin of the rest of us.
So I wasn't too shocked when Justin called to tell me that Isaac had confessed to having an affair for four months, not even when he told me that Isaac had been cheating on him with a woman, I wouldn't have put it past Isaac to cheat on him with a dog if giiven the right motivation and circumstances (gross I know, but hey, I'm being honest). However, I was shocked when he told me that Isaac had gotten this other woman pregnant and the two of them had decided to keep the baby and to try to be together.
Justin was devastated and rightly so. So, being the family that we are, we all pitched in and helped to fly Justin from New York over to London, England where Angel and James lived with their own house, thinking to help Justin heal over his harsh breakup by indulging in the life of a British man. It seemed to work for a while, Justin began laughing and smiling again, returning to a glimpse of his former, vivacious self.
So I was shocked when he called to inform me that he'd had to go to the doctor....again, to get bloodwork done. Then when he told me why, my heart stopped.
You see, our family started off with 15 in 1997, and now in 2010, we are just 5. Losing the other 10 to drugs, jail, and AIDS. So when Justin told me that he was having another "outbreak" of sores, weakness, and feeling sick, I felt the air in my world being sucked out.
Justin is a big, huge, important part of my life. The results of his test came in and when he called me, sobbing openly on the phone, my heart broke. I am so afraid of losing him and so angry that he didn't get tested sooner, earlier, yearly. He knew his partner was unfaithful and yet chose to remain in denial rather than face reality and get tested. His partner put his life on the line by sleeping around and yet Justin is not completely innocent because he didn't use protection and he didn't get tested.
Now, our days will be filled with nostalgic memories, hospital visits, medicine, attempts at trying to cram as much of Justin's "bucket list" into what remains of his life, trying to be hopeful, and all of us will spend our days with this black cloud looming over our heads as we try not to focus on the fact that we will be losing another family member to this horrible disease soon.
We have a responsibility, not just to ourselves but to our partners, our loved ones, the world and our family to get tested as often as possible, to stay healthy, informed and aware.
Justin hasn't lost his vivaciousness or his flair for life, he's wiser now, he's sicker, but he's still the same guy who tossed me over his shoulder and carried me to my Drama class, one day, our freshman year in college, because he said that "Divas don't walk."
His story has motivated those of us who remain to get tested but to also tell his story so that through his life and impending demise, we might save the lives of others.

By the way, Justin's favorite movie is "Rent" and his favorite part? The restaurant scene where the cast sings "La Vie Boheme." Favorite line: "Actual reality, Act now, FIGHT AIDS!"

Growing Up

When I was younger everything got to me, the slightest provocation, the slightest insult, criticism, but for some reason my 26th birthday changed so much for me. I realized that I was worth so much more than I was expressing to others. I realized that others opinions of me was just that, an opinion and their opinion does not DEFINE me.

I was recently in a relationship, and this relationship was kind of the proverbial nail in the relationship coffin for me. I was EVERYTHING to this guy. I was his fount of knowlege and wisdom. I was his cheering section, his biggest fan. I was his cook, his maid. His dog walker. His housekeeper. His lover. His advisor. I met his family, I fell in love with his family and they in turn fell in love with me. I, who was hesitant about marriage already, found myself daydreaming about spending the rest of my life with this man. I lost myself in him. I lost my identity, my purpose. Oh, I still talked about it, but only to him, and he encouraged me in one breath but in the next breath kept me in my place as a woman who lived to serve him. He doled out his affections like Christmas presents and I found myself like a little puppy, so excited when that small treat came, a cuddle here, holding my hand in public here, a kiss there. Don't get me wrong the relationship wasn't all bad, but unlike what I fooled myself into believing, it wasn't all good either.

I think that's something that we all do. Not just women, but men also. We get in these relationships because we're either desperate for companionship or because of some illusion we have about the person we want to spend the rest of our life with. Then we start making concessions and excuses for their behavior, their lack of appreciation, their total disregard for us. We settle. We grow complacent. We wind up entangled, ensnared, trapped in a relationship that we probably shouldn't have been in in the first place. Everyone has their flaws, their quirks, habits and shortcomings and I don't deny that, but if you'd determined within yourself that you wouldn't spend the rest of your life with someone who was in favor of abortion and then you meet someone who favors it but you're at a season of your life when you or those around you feel as if you should have settled down, would you compromise?

I guess that's what this blog boils down to. What are you willing to compromise on? In my last relationship, I compromised on almost everything. Losing myself, my dignity, my identity because of the opinions and the expectations of others. I've gotten to the point now in my life where the opinions and expectations of others don't affect me like they used to. Whereas they used to provide 97% of the foundation for my life and actions they now provide 3%, the 97% comes from within. I found that inner strength, that inner wisdom. Oh, I still hear the snide comments, the remarks, the opinions and "well-meaning," "good-natured" advice from those who surround me telling me to do this or to not do that or that I should get over this or that I need to prepare myself to get married one day (*scoff*) but now I just smile, nod my head and continue on my way.

You see, I encourage myself now. I advise myself. I cook for myself. I make money for myself. For what I want to do. My personality is still there. I'm still just as giving, generous and selfless as I always was, but I'm no longer the pushover, the little girl desperately seeking approval, admiration, encouragement, love. I approve myself, I admire myself, I encourage myself and I love myself. I encourage you to encourage yourself everyday, to love yourself everyday. No one else's love, encouragement, approval, or admiration will fulfill you quite as much as your own does.

This was just something on my mind, so I thought I'd share. Oh by the way, since my relationship with my ex ended, I started writing my second book, I lost twenty pounds, I got in shape, I started eating better, got a great job, found myself, and remembered what makes me me. The ending of that relationship was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. Remember that. Sometimes watching someone walk away from your life means welcoming someone or something new into your life.