A Trans Story – Losses
Ok, well here I am at 3am in the morning and wide awake,
with a very busy mind.
As I approach my 42nd birthday I have been very
contemplative, spending a great deal of time in the past with my regrets and my
shame. Mostly I have been remembering my Dad. We weren’t exactly close, well I
never felt that we were anyway. I kinda thought I was never quite masculine
enough. That was just my perception, or the memory of my perception, but lets
face it either one can be wrong. And memory by itself is not the most reliable
thing in the world and then to add a child's perspective, well that can just mess
things up.
Anyway mostly I remember my Dad around the age of 42. I wish
I knew then what I know now, for at that time I only had 8 years left with him.
He died when I was around 20. To be completely honest, I am not sure that I
truly remember the age, or the year. I know that he was just about to reach 50
and that I was in my second year at college and that I was going to the Pub
(although that’s no real indication, since I went there under age too) – but I
do distinctly remember that I was finishing College that year, so I believe it
was March of my 20th year. The prior year, late on, he had been diagnosed
with Pancreatitis, and I know he didn’t last too long after that.
I have not thought too much about it for some time, since I
have always had a tendency to bottle up emotions, to ignore traumatic events and
just not face them. That and to be completely honest I am ashamed of myself.
So to explain that last part. So if my memory is correct, it
was late in 1994. My Mum and Dad when on holiday to Tunisia – it wasn’t the
best holiday, they got sick, the hotel had listeria and all. When they got back
my Dad had jaundice and shortly after was diagnosed with cancer. It was pretty
much at that point when I really began to distance myself from him. At first I
was available to take him to see some of his friends and all, but as it
progressed and he needed more and more assistance, I found myself going out
every night. It has taken me many years, but I can admit to being afraid. I was
terrified that he would need my help with something I was simply not prepared
to handle at the time. I was not used to seeing my Dad being anything less than
a strong individual and couldn’t face it. I am ashamed to admit that I stayed away
on purpose.
The night he died, I was at the Pub, as usual. I made it
home and as soon as I stepped inside my Aunt told me that my Dad did not have
long and asked if I wanted to go up and see him. Honestly I wasn’t sure if I did
want to be in that room, but I went out of a sense of obligation and it is
something I will never every forget. To this day I remember every single minute
of it.
I remember stepping into the room. I remember seeing my Dad,
once strong, now wasted away, lying in bed, my Mum by his side, my brother over
to the left. And I remember that he opened his eyes, and looked at me with the
first lucidity I had seen from him in months. I remember each and every breath
he took. How he struggled for one more. Always one more breath. Each one I
thought was going to be the last, but he would draw one more. And I will always
remember his passing.
I have heard from many people (Christians mostly) how they
felt a sense of peace enter a room of someone passing. Well I felt nothing. I
never have. Perhaps I have always lacked faith, or perhaps that is where I
completely lost it. But there was nothing, only silence and emptiness. And I
could not bring myself to cry.
The next night my Mum wanted to make sure that I got out of
the house, not wanting me to stay just for her, so she kinda made me go out –
it didn’t take much persuasion, I was desperate to go. So I went to the Pub
with my friends. It was awkward, as you might expect, no one knowing what to
say to me. But even then I did not mourn. No I did what I have always done in
difficult situations, I bottled it up and got rip roaring drunk.
That was how I lived my life back then. I avoided things. I
got drunk and I bottled everything up, never ever wanting to say anything. Only
now am I beginning to realize why I could never face anything. And I am
beginning to realize why I could never mourn. Because I was too pissed off, at
the world, my Dad, everyone.
I was angry that I never got the chance to be who I truly am
with him. But then I also wonder, would he have accepted me. A big part of me
thinks – NO he wouldn’t have. But it’s a chance I will never have now. So yes,
I have spent my life being angry. I am angry at the lost opportunity, I am
angry at myself for never being strong enough. I am angry for never being able
to be myself. But I have also spent the last 22 years being ashamed because I
was not there for my Dad when he needed people around. At that point he needed
family, all his family, and I was too self-centered to be there for him.
I have discovered that Transgender have many losses in their
lives. They have lost opportunities when they are not strong enough to speak up
and be themselves. They lose family and friends when they find the strength and
even if they do manage to keep those, the relationships are changed so much
that they may as well be lost. And we face loss of rights because of blind,
backward, conservative people that want to force us all to be the same as them.
And all they can do is fall back on some religious beliefs, trying to limit me
because of their own lack of understanding. But mostly my thoughts are about
losing a parent who never really knew the true me.
I know that some find comfort in faith, religion and belief
in God etc, but those are things that I have never had. Oh I have tried over
the years, but never quite made it. My Dad was pretty much an atheist and my
Mum was an occasional church goer and I was raised to question everything and
simply be the best person I can be. I have never felt what people of faith
describe. Never have I sensed anything, felt that anything was around me, close
to me or helping me in any shape or form. And when I have read parts of the
Bible, well the words just done appeal to me. Nor do some aspects of any other
religion, and I have studied most of them over time. Even back in school there
was a calls on religious education, not much on Christianity, since that was
the dominant religion, but covered Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, even paganism. And
I loved that class, but at the time I thought it would not be cool to take it
into my 3rd year. I was easily influenced by what I thought was cool
back then. Perhaps another aspect of my trying to hide the real me.
So because of everything I have learned, I often find one
religion to be too limiting and lacking a proper explanation for what life is
and so I have never been able to believe in Christianity, or any other religion
individually. I think that only together can they give you even a glimpse of
what the divine is. But the problem is - where is faith in that belief? And
does a creative being really give a toss about people? Sometimes it sucks to
have so many questions and no faith and no one to help me find even a few
answers. I have no answer for why I was born Transgender. I have no answer for
why my Dad was taken without even knowing me. And I have no faith that there is
a heaven, or any other place. I lean towards the idea that there must be something,
but is that something any better than what this currently is? Sometimes it
might be so easy to just have faith and let it all go, but that is not in my
nature. I take things apart, I dig into them and look for my own truths, but
again there is no faith, nothing to reassure me that I am doing what I am meant
to be. Nothing to reassure me that there is a reason for life and challenge and
that its not all just happenstance. Nothing to reassure me that the losses are
worth it. And nothing to really help me move beyond my youth and the regrets
and shame that I have. Now that I am no longer drowning my problems in drink, I
need to process them. But how????
Well I am done rambling for now. I am going to see if I can
get some sleep. I am hoping that my mind will be quiet now. I need to get up
for work in a couple of hours. I will be posting this sometime later.
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