Lucy D-day

Today I emailed the letters I have written to my dad and brother, tomorrow I’ll post a similar one to my stepsister. An attack on all fronts. I now have to play the waiting game for them to reply. If they ever want to speak to me again that is. Reading through the letters last night I was literally scared to tears. I felt quite childlike in my feebleness. My strength and resolve have returned today and I tried not to hover my mouse for too long over the "send" button. I can’t help being concerned about their reactions, especially my dad's, but when all is said and done no-one’s reaction to this news is going to stop me from doing what I need to do. If I were to buckle under pressure, or give in to my own fears I would be dead. There is little choice really, and not only do I need to make the changes I have decided upon, but I want to, more than anything I have ever wanted. Which makes me determined, and when I’m determined it’s better for people if they don‘t get in my way. I feel I am prepared for anything, including facing my dad who I am convinced will try to talk me out of it. He never will. No-one can ever get inside my head and make me believe that I am really just a normal man and am able to live as such. That’s not what I am. I’m not a normal woman either, but that’s what I want to be and that’s where I’m headed. Nothing will stop me.

I sit watching my inbox, phone at my side, my heart will thump like hell if it rings, or if I receive a message and I will be nervous talking to any of them. But I’ve told them what I need to and that’s the hardest part. Even if you plan exactly what to say, when it’s someone you love it is so difficult to get the words out, like some evil spirit is trying to stop you from speaking, trying to seal up your mouth. When the words come out, it doesn’t sound like you talking, a voice in the distance; my god, is that ME telling my mother I’ve always felt I should have been a girl. I guess it must have been. My brother lives at the other end of the country so logistics prevented me from telling him in person, and I simply wouldn’t be able to talk anything other than gibberish had I sat and faced my dad with this shocking news. So a letter seemed the best way to explain it properly, coherently and reasonably fully to all concerned. I find it virtually impossible to explain the lifelong feelings which have caused me to make this decision, I guess it’s something you can’t do in a letter, or all at once. So I need them to talk to me, and to ask lots of questions. All I hope is that one day they and everyone else will understand. Until that time I hope that they at least try to understand. And that is all I ask of them.