January 18, 2014
This morning I was awoken by the light switch being turned on, the blankets ripped off the bed and then dumped unceremoniously on my head. On some occasions this was NOT the right way to wake me. But this morning I had asked for it. That is, I needed to be up earlier than usual. Unfortunately, I’d had only 4 hours of sleep. As is typical of my behavior, I spent the wee hours of the morning wasting time; reading internet stories, playing Minecraft and surfing Amazon for women’s ankle socks.
There was a brief conflict between my need to keep sleeping and my need to breath, but that was quckly resolved. I sat up and got out of bed. Friends were coming over and there was some thesis research and a nap to crunch in before noon. Just another morning really, except one thing: I caught myself experiencing a longing feeling, like something was amiss. It was just that however, a feeling more than coherent words in my mind. A second later the words formed, though remaining unspoken.
I just wanted to be normal.
But wait..normal? After all, I’m beginning a long slow process of changing from manhood into womanhood. It’s certainly not what most men would call normal; not the sort of thing most men would wish happened to them. It isn’t normal to have strangers constantly looking with guarded curiosity or confusion. It isn’t normal for see a flat chested woman with muscular arms and a five o’clock shadow….
I humored the brief malaise in my mind, “So what would it take for me to be normal again?”
“It would mean that I’d stop dressing in women’s clothes, stop taking phyto-estrogen supplements, and pretend like I didn’t have some kind of deep rooted sexual/gender issue”. “The problem”, I reasoned in my mind, “is that this notion of normal-ness is coming from the expectations of other people”. For me, the little steps I’ve taken in expressing female gender have felt wonderful, while simultaneously bringing some awkwardness in public. I think the cause of that brief longing was from a need to feel stability and acceptance in my everyday moments – the kind of certainty in our surroundings that we take for granted and just label as, “normal”. This then, was conflicting with my need to change.
I gathered my thoughts and went into the bathroom to prepare for the coming day. As I did so, I thought to myself, “scratch that, a little makeup, jewelry and a dress are totally worth the vulnerability of not being normal”.