I spent the majority of my lifetime shrouded from what was really important to me. I’m not sure how that shroud was cast. I suspect I covered myself with it, to keep myself safe.
It took a very long time of not feeling safe, to realize being shrouded and under cover did not protect me.
One day I dared to poke my head up, and as I blinked in the dazzling light I felt a very strange, barely remembered, feeling wash over me. I could not identify this feeling, this glowing expansion that radiated up from deep inside. Then I realized what it was. I was grinning, my eyes were alive, my body felt free. I was happy. I had come out from under that heavy, dark, cloak and now joy covered me, not fear and shame.
That’s how I knew to keep emerging.
It was never a case of diagnosing, labeling, placing myself into something, like into a definition of transsexual, for example. I only knew how to follow my heart, how to chase those rays of joy.
That’s how I emerged, led by a gentle, loving stream that felt like it had always been there.
Every step I have taken in transformation has been driven by happiness, joy, and harmony. I have no idea where it will all lead, but I will continue following the light, because I can never go back to darkness.
And so, this. Did my first fifty years really take place in such darkness and unhappiness?
What of all those people who have loved me, who love me today, who saw me laugh and smile, and understood I loved them too? Does that mean all that was a lie?
It’s difficult to tell someone who has loved you as you were for so very long, that you weren’t happy all those years. It was difficult then to know I was not happy. I had nothing to compare it to, except maybe some hazy memories of when I was very very young, before I started realizing that something wasn’t right with me.
I can’t say it wasn’t good, on some level, my life all those years. I have had much to rejoice about, and have been very fortunate to have had love in my life nearly every day. I’ve had contentment and comfort. It must have seemed to others that I was enjoying my life.
But it is true that undercutting everything was a core of depression, of hurt, and finally numbness from self medicating. I never realized how severely off course I was until I found my map.
Now that I am on course, following that star of joy, I understand that the miles behind me are not lies nor anything to be ashamed of. I was doing the best I could, given the ever present pain of dislocation I felt and tried to keep from others. The fact is, I did very well on some days, and I learned a lot on my wayward path. None of it is wasted and no one’s love is a lie.