I saw my friend Bear yesterday, and I was having a marvelous time until we got back to the cafe we originally met up at and began to have a conversation about how I thought of him as my Butch/FTM dad. He said that he wished he could be the kind of dad that I deserved, but he just can't. I don't think he understood that... well, maybe I just didn't quite understand (or want to understand) what his limitations were in terms of our relationship. He knows that he's a big part of my life, and he's been very important to me practically since I met him. Since I began to read his book, even, which was before I was introduced to him. I feel like I've been abandoned; orphaned; rejected. Yet again.
Talking with another friend about it afterwards helped. I got to tell my friend a lot of what I've wanted to tell him for a long time, but as I was saying all the words I told him -- everything I've kept locked inside of me even as I've gotten to know him better and trust him more -- I was terrified that he would reject me like I felt Bear had. I know that rejecting is (and really cannot be) part of his job description, but our friendship is closer than just one between co-workers. He's become my best friend. I love him dearly, but I hate the strict boundaries that are between us. I talked with him yesterday about how, some days, I wish I'd never walked through the doors of the place he works because then I could have met him under different terms -- there wouldn't be the "under surveilance" mentality over the situation because he wouldn't, in a way, be my superior. He would just be a friend -- he would just be my big brother.
I understand the boundaries that my other friend has to keep up because of his job. That's where we're able to see one another, and that's where I can get support from him. Although I might not appreciate with how strict they are, they are intact and, in order to maintain my relationship with him, I must follow them. But the closeness that I feel to him still doesn't make the fact that Bear can't be my dad feel any less traumatizing -- his care for me can't make that pain go away. He said to me yesterday that, in due time, I would find the kind of father figure that I'm searching so desperately for. But I can't just wait around for things to happen -- I'm not good at it. I like to have a schedule, and I like to know exactly when and how things are going to occur. I've worked so hard to be independent of people because I don't want to have to rely on others for happiness and contentment the rest of my life. But I just don't see that happening.
I thought that, by transitioning, I could lose some of that feeling of dependency, but now that I've realized how much I need my Trans brothers (as well as a Trans dad), I know that I need to be around people now more than ever. But it seems like almost every Transman that I encounter who might be able to become that crucial father figure does not have the time to take on that role. I understand that they are busy, but I really need someone to look out for me like a father is supposed to, because my biological father won't.
I need someone that I can call in the middle of the night if I get beaten up to come peel me off the sidewalk and drive me home. I need someone to come to the doctor's office with me when I get my first shot of testosterone, and to come to the hospital with me when I have my top surgery. I need someone to teach me all that he knows about how not to hurt the men and women that I form romantic relationships with. I need someone to vent to when the circumstances are most urgent. I need a shoulder to cry on when the Transmen I've met through places that I volunteer at or am a member of cannot be there for me because of the restrictions their jobs place on them. I'm not strong enough yet to do all this on my own -- I don't think I ever will be. I'm not good at being solitary -- I can't figure a lot of things out by myself. I need someone who doesn't have to think twice before coming to help me. I need someone who can be there for me 24/7, and if not that, then at least most of the time. I need to not feel alone even though I have many people to support and love me. I just need... someone.
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6 comments:
I am sorry that you feel this way. It is a very hard place to be at and I remember the feeling to well. I hope that your family will grow soon.
elliot, I echo Alex's words. I remember a similar place once I stepped out of the ex-gay world and for the first time went it alone.
Everyone disappointed me no matter how hard they tried. My needs were so great, particularly my need for affirmation from another man. I soaked it up like a sponge but still needed more.
One day I had a revelation. I am a man. I am a man who can give affirmation. I am a man who can give affirmation to myself.
Since that time I have developed a different relationship with myself, not that I don't need others, I do so much, but I have learned how to nuture myself and affirm myself.
OF course many of the needs you have, someone to be with you when you go to the doctors, someone to rescue you if you get in trouble, that is not something you can just do for yourself.
I don't know where your support systems will come from. And it must feel scary stepping out into the world, a senior in high school, taking the steps to transition. I imagine it can feel like you are very vulnerable.
You are on the scary side of change. And I feel hope that you will find your way through this mess.
I saw the movie A Night at the Museuem. I had some problems with parts of it from an activist point of view, but one point came clear. The Ben Stiller character felt that the task before him was far too great and wanted to give up. But the Robin Williams character affirmed him, helped him in part but helped him more by saying that he had the resources to find his own way.
I am going on and on. Bottom line, you are more amazing, more strong, more able than you can imagine at the moment, but you will see and you will marvel at the strength you find.
Peterson
Thank you both very, very much. It's frustrating -- it just seems like this search for feelings of inclusion and acceptance is never-ending. But I'm glad I've got friends like you to support me.
And, Peterson, I personally like it when you go on and on. You're a terrific writer! It makes for great reading material (especially when I'm attempting to stay away from the task of finishing my Contemporary Issues slideshow ;)
Remember that your brothers can help you learn the things you are longing to be taught.
They can be there for you when you need a shoulder to cry on, a ride to the doctor's office, a smack upside the head for unthinkingly breaking someone's heart.
And never underestimate your own ability to give yourself the emotional things you are longing for.
It may feel nice to have someone else tell you how wonderful and brave and intelligent and whatever you are... But if you don't believe it within yourself, it won't matter how many times you hear it.
Keep looking forward. I think you've already noticed that it's not always as dark and scary a journey as it seems...
After contemplating all of your comments for... well... as long as they've been here, I've realized that it's better for me to have a bunch of people who can give me support instead of one person who might not be able to give support to me all the time. Besides, I loves me my big brothers! I could never substitute y'all! You're the shiz-nit!
Why call yourself "orphan?"
You cannot make yourself an orphan. Only your parents can make you one. So, go and tell them to do what my sweet former parents did: leave me a victim to stray dogs, to sleet and wind and dirt, to hunger and thirst, and to abusive strangers.
Then you'll be an orphan, whether you still want it or not. You'll be nobody, and you'll begin trying to be something. That's REAL orphanhood.
www.ruthieblacknaked.blogspot.com
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