Number 48

By The Way, "A" Does Not Equal "B"

An annoying thought has been rattling around my brain for awhile. I try to ignore it, because I know it's not true, and to acknowledge it implies that I care, or could be hurt by the thoughts and feelings of others. It should be enough that I know the truth, and to heck with what other people believe, right? I mean, I hate when celebrities are asked questions about their sexuality. Whatever the truth may be is a private matter; and such questions always have a whiff of judgment about them.

But the thought persists, so I'm choosing to address it here. I'm not really sure why. I suppose it has something to do with the notion of not wanting to be misunderstood. Whatever.

No. Rebecca's death did not lead to my transition. Identifying as a trans woman has nothing whatsoever to my wife's passing. I did not "lose it", or "go off the deep end". What I now understand as gender dysphoria has been with me all my life. What is true is the fact that I worked very hard, both consciously and subconsciously, to suppress any dysphoric thoughts for most of my life. Trust me, I did that really well.

In any event, it's actually a coincidence that my "coming out" occurred near the time of Rebecca's death. In previous posts, I have wondered whether or not I would be transitioning if she were still alive. I stand by what I said then: "Who the f*ck knows?" That's not the life I'm living, so dwelling on that thought is a useless exercise. All I can tell you is that I had already begun to peel back the layers of my self-identity prior to February 14, 2016. And that's the truth.