That was the week that was

What a super week it was. 3 days and 3 nights with the lovely Pippa, a great deal of love and support from my friends, and finally plucking up the courage to tell my mum about me. Not only that, but her acceptance of me and my secret could not have been better. She was amazing about it. Very calm and relaxed, not shocked, horrified, worried, saddened or even surprised. She said she wasn’t really surprised but not because she had ever suspected anything like this, she didn’t really explain that fully, but I think she meant that all this kind of explained a few things about my nature.

I’d wanted to tell her before we sat down to dinner, but she talks a lot, in a nice way of course, and we talk about things that matter to us, so it didn’t seem appropriate to force it out straight away. I managed to stay reasonably calm and a few glasses of wine helped me on my way. As we finished eating (rainbow trout poached in Chardonnay, yum) the conversation turned towards family, and feelings and our similar experiences of taking more control of our own lives at around the same age. We’ve touched on this subject before, this time I wanted to explain fully some of the ways that I have taken control and how this has led to a greater understanding of myself, and consequently a greater happiness. This was it; "There’s something I want to tell you…" meant no turning back now.

It took me a while to get it out. I first tried to explain why I was telling her, how it may seem odd but it really wasn’t a bad thing, and how it was important that at this stage she must be prepared to not discuss it with anyone else. She sat patiently and agreed to my stipulation, I guess she had no choice there. I explained this was something I had known all my life, it had always been there and I had come to terms with it. Shan told me how she told her mum, saying that she shouldn’t have been born a man, and that seemed to describe my feelings entirely, so that was my starting point. Thanks again Shan, I hope you don’t have copyright on your words. I then went on to explain exactly what that meant.

Mercifully there was no stunned silence, just a calm, composed and understanding face looking at me from across the table. She soon asked questions and I soon had to clarify some terminology, and to what extent I was transgendered ("pretty far gone actually"). She had lots to say, and we talked for hours. I wasn’t totally happy about asking her not to discuss this with anyone, as I felt she might need to, but it became apparent that she does have one friend that I would be happy for her to approach, in fact it might be mutually beneficial to both of them. She said she doesn’t need to talk about it, but I encouraged her to, and I hope she does. People shouldn’t have to keep things to themselves.

To say she wasn’t disturbed by any of this would be an understatement; to say that she seemed to be enjoying it would sound frivolous, but I think she appreciated the honesty, and the chance to be a little closer. She finally admitted that she had wanted a daughter (mum, I always knew that, truly), perhaps realising that now this wasn’t going to upset me. On the contrary, I had always wanted to BE her daughter, and it might take her a while to realise it fully, but that is what we are – mother and daughter.

Her genuine desire to be understanding and accepting was awesome; why I thought she would have difficulty getting her head round it I’m not really sure, though I knew in my heart she would accept me as I am. She offered (get this) to lend me her clothes, though she might want to borrow mine, and to come round and compare nail varnish and stuff ("yes – a girly night"; a dream come true for me).

I showed her the letter from Cerys, (she was touched and she wants to meet you Cerys!) and some of my favourite pics, telling her about some of my friends and experiences as she looked on in disbelief. Pippa – she wants to meet you too! She will love you both and you will love her, trust me. She was amazed at the pics, not even realising that the first one I showed her was me; "Which friend is that…?" She said I was beautiful and it didn’t look like me, which means that she’s not used to me looking beautiful I guess, or maybe just that she wanted me to feel good about myself.

She may have got into the car and screamed, poured herself a large drink when she got home, taken some Valium, thought, "Oh my god where have I gone wrong, what am I going to do….?" But I doubt it. The way she took it was beyond my hopes and expectations, I couldn’t have asked for anything more from her. Despite all my worries, my dithering, my several blog’s worth of trying to talk myself into telling her, I knew she would accept me as I am, and just love me for who I am.

I can’t find the words to say what it means to have her as my mum, but I think she knows. Thanks mum.

xx