Number 109

I Don't Understand It, Either

Last week, I was visiting my brother and his family. I bought a small gift for my sister-in-law just because she's one of my favorite people, and I love her. We then had that conversation that women have with each other in similar situations: "Oh, you shouldn't have..."; "I know, but I just wanted to..."; etc. ad infinitum, (See, I'm learning). At one point I reminded her what an awesome ally she'd been ever since I told her and my brother about my transgender identity. Referring to my brother, I said, "And you helped him understand it, too." At that point my brother chimed in, (and not in a mean way), "I'm still not sure I do." To which I replied... well, just look at the title of this post for my response.

That got me thinking that I've never really written about what I've been through in terms of understanding, educating, and accepting my true self. So here we go.

Basically, my brother kind of nailed it when he said he still wasn't sure he understood what it meant to be transgender. The wonderful thing about what he said was its complete lack of pretense. To him it was an off-hand comment. He had no idea how profound he was being. Why am I trans? For the life of me, I don't know - and I suspect, I never will - the end.

Well that was pretty easy, right? See you when I write my next entry.

Actually, no. For the purposes of today's exercise, what you need to understand is how much work, how much shame and disgust, how much angst, and finally, how much thoughtful wonderment went into that 'I don't understand, either.' It took a long time for me to reach the point where I not only said it, but accepted and made my peace with it, too. And that, my friends, is the essence of the journey I have been on over the last five years - if not my entire life.

There are two big reasons why it took so much time and energy to accept 'I don't know.' Innate curiosity, and a lethal, 40 year case of stubborn denial kept me from accepting my true self. I've always been a person who needed to know 'why.' You name it, I want to to know why it works the way it does. Ambiguity bothers me, and not having the answers frustrates me. From being an 18 month-old toddler dropping eggs one by one on the tiled floor (I had to do the entire dozen, you see, it would have been bad science to reach a conclusion after dropping only one egg), to currently wondering how there can be any sane person left in this country that still supports Trump; I have always wanted to know the reason why something is the way it is.

"But Nora", you say, "if you were so curious, surely you could have easily achieved personal enlightenment a lot earlier than you did." Well, my friends, as they say, 'denial' is more than a river in Egypt. From the the time that I first dressed in my mother's clothing at the age of eleven until I was muddling through my 49th year, I never dared to shine a light on this part of me. I still remember that first evening quite well. I was home alone (natch), when a voice I'd never heard before suggested it might be fun to put on my mom's clothes. I felt so naughty, but, oh my, it was exciting, too.

Fear and shame are potent fuckers. But so, too, is want and desire. Put them together, and I didn't have a chance. The part of me that hated what I was doing was constantly battling the desire to do it again. And when desire inevitably won out, the shame and disgust would soon follow with their empty promises to never do it again. Whatever it was that was driving this, it scared me, and I didn't want any part of it. But it never left. I spent so many years and so much time wishing it away; failing every single time I promised I would never do it again. The self-loathing became debilitating, and I remained too afraid to explore it in any meaningful way for almost four decades.

Finally, I got tired of fighting it. When I gathered the guts to tell my deep, dark secret to my therapist, she changed my life with one two letter word: "So?" Soon I was with a new therapist, who specialized in gender dysphoria. Her office was a safe place to explore and question long held assumptions and thoughts. In her gentle and empathetic way, she helped bring Nora to life.

I still didn't understand it, and my fear of it remained potent. Though the guilt and shame monsters had finally been slayed, I was still afraid to have this in my life. But then my therapist suggested that she, and the others folks that worked in the office could call me "Nora" instead of my birth name when I came for appointments. The cat held my tongue for about 15 seconds until I was able to say: "Yes, let's do that." She then suggested that I could dress as "Nora" when I came to see her. It finally came to a head in the late winter of 2018. When I entered her office, I sat down and announced: "I'm a transgender woman, and I want to transition." I then felt a peace of mind and a calmness that had always seemed to elude me.

But I was still bothered by the 'why?' question. Or more precisely, "why me?" I looked back on my life and was able to pinpoint different moments in my life that strongly hinted at my transgender reality, but that still didn't answer that essential question. I was finally past 'denial,' but now, that innate curiosity I mentioned earlier wanted answers. There had to be a reason I was this way, and I wanted to know what it was.

As it turned out... well, as it turned out, I didn't need to know. What I 'needed' was to accept it. And when I was finally able to do that - to accept that I was a transgender woman named Nora, I was able to make peace with that part of me that wanted to know 'why.' Maybe it was the wisdom that comes with age; maybe it's the wisdom that comes from a lot of hard work in therapy; or maybe it's something else entirely, but I was no longer interested in 'why' (at least in this one, very important instance). I don't know why I am a 54 year-old trans woman, but I don't care why. What I do care about is that I have been embraced, encouraged, and loved by so many people since I came out. I care that I am more content and at peace than I ever was before. I care that I am more confident, and I approach life with more 'joie d'vive' than ever before. I care that my mental health is better than ever before. And I care that I 'know,' in a way that words can never explain, that being Nora is my truth.

So, my brother, I don't understand why I'm trans, either. Turns out it doesn't matter.