Listen to your heart

It’s surprising how simple things can be emotionally draining. I wonder if these things are actually affecting me more than they used to or if I’m just becoming more aware of them and the effect they have on me. I can see why people get screwed up without realising it. I’ve always been introspective, I think that being in touch with your own feelings helps to keep you sane.

Anyway, I’ll come back to that shortly, firstly rewind to earlier in the week, Wednesday to be precise. I went to my mum’s again for dinner. Was lovely as always, and after a few drinks she was clearly steering the conversation towards my future, the difficult issues surrounding my condition and the rest of the family finding out. I certainly wasn’t reluctant to talk about it but my thoughts weren’t flowing as fluidly as I would have liked, but I did my best. I think I’m now ready to talk more about all this after the events of last night, which I’ll come to in a bit. I stayed the night at mum’s and in the morning we went shopping in Lancaster, an impromptu decision. The plan was to do some Christmas shopping for our family, but we ended up spending most of the time in the women’s clothes shops, looking at stuff for ourselves. I always end up doing this when I’m Christmas shopping so now I think it must run in the family. It was great fun actually; mum was picking stuff off the rails, holding it up against me and saying, "this is nice, this would suit you, what do you think of this colour…?" and so on. It attracted one or two smiles from the shop assistants, but in no way derogatory, I think they just thought it was sweet. I of course was doing the same for her, picking out stuff that I thought she might like. Generally we seem to know what each other likes and what will suit. She even bought me a very pretty and rather skimpy pink chemise, which we both liked, and she’s hinted that this might not be the only "Lucy present" I will be getting for Christmas. All this is another, quite striking example of how my mum seems able and willing to accept me as I am; she’s calling me her daughter, uses the name Lucy and is showing a great understanding of how I really am. Actually I never expected anything less from her, but her readiness to accept is truly heart-warming. She did tell me once she had always wanted a daughter, and of course I always wanted to be one, so that’s got to be a good start for someone like me. She said it was great fun afterwards, so I suggested we do it again after Christmas when we don’t have to feel guilty about not buying stuff for other people. Next time I’ll dress for the occasion and then I can try stuff on too.

The following evening was a big family event. I was a little nervous. Dinner at a posh country house with "single" me and 5 (very straight) couples, including my dad and brother, so Lucy was to be kept well hidden. This time last year I would have thought nothing of it, hiding my true self had become second nature to me, having done it all my life, virtually every day. The big change I am becoming acutely aware of this year is that I’m now much more in touch with what is my first nature, ie the real me. Clearly the voyage of self-discovery has stopped off at some relevant ports, and I am learning more and more about myself. It’s a very long time since I went out on such a formal occasion, all my evenings out this year have been whilst dressed, or at least with understanding friends amongst whom I don’t have to pretend, so I’d kind of got used to that. The simple task of getting ready was strange in itself. No make-up, no decisions about what to wear; jacket and tie was essential, choice of 3 ties, but who the fuck cares which one? Not me. But I did my best and remembered I didn’t need mascara, something I normally wear when I go out in drab with friends or to mum’s house. I felt distinctly uncomfortable walking in to the place, my hair attracts attention in places like that, men can have long hair but it’s a somewhat girly style now, so a few people looked. But it wasn’t people looking at me that bothered me, it’s how I felt inside – not myself. We sat down to dinner after a couple of drinks and everyone started chatting. I felt all the time I was trying to control myself, not let go, not show how I really am. Trying all the time to be blokey, charming and witty, with little success. It was as though I was monitoring the evening from a tv screen elsewhere in the building, and at the same time I was the tv presenter with the producer’s voice in my earpiece telling me what to do, or mostly what not to do. Seeing the evening from a detached view but at the same time pretending to be a part of the action. Maybe all this doesn’t sound so bad, but I wasn’t really there; I had been caged for the night, not allowed to show my face, or rather my personality. I just didn’t feel relaxed and I wasn’t enjoying the evening as I should have been. I had to kick myself once or twice, finding myself saying things like, "men don’t understand that sort of thing…", or giggling in my brother’s gf’s ear in a sisterly fashion. That was the only point, not only that I felt relaxed, but that I really felt someone else was relaxing with me. For a moment I felt on the same level as the girl I was talking to, and her attitude towards me seemed to change accordingly. But it was a fleeting moment and I quickly adjusted my posture and moved the subject away from girly matters.

The food was great, and all present were lovely people, but the evening was horrible for me. I really didn’t think it would be, I thought I’d just feel strange and have a few drinks and not be too bothered by it, after all, I’ve done it plenty of times in the past. I got home and cried buckets. It’s almost as if someone wants you dead.

I can’t live like that. I’ve become so much happier this year; going out has been wonderful, opening up, talking honestly, being myself, being alive. The emotion poured out of me when I got home, thankfully I didn’t need to try and keep it in check. After only a few hours I was strongly aware of the male "bottle up your emotions" habit and its negative effect. I know for sure now that I can’t go on pretending to certain people and so in that sense it has given me more clarity, cleared my path. I thought I was happy just being myself when I could, and of course I am, but not being myself is unbearable, and I’d forgotten how awful it is to have to do that.

Or maybe I just never quite realised how awful it was. Self-denial, or in my case self-oppression can be very damaging, without you even aware that it’s happening. I shiver when I think of how I used to live like that all the time, never truly expressing myself. Life is so much better now, and I have to look forward. I think last night has given me more purpose to move in the right direction.

xx