Somber

Halloween will be three years as Sophie. I was going to write about that, and reflect upon what the three years have meant, and what it means to me to be a woman. Fun stuff. But that just didn’t happen.

My good friend died last Friday night. I’ll call him Bob, and I’ve known him for 18 years. He died suddenly at his home. He was a big guy- tall and heavy, so you can guess why.

Bob didn’t know about my life as Sophie. In fact, since I reawakened my feminine side, I may have seen him a maybe a dozen times. You know how it with life: schedules, work, catch up with you next time, and all that. The last time I was invited out to see him, was a Laptop night, and I was dressed in a skirt, so I didn’t go. Plenty of time to see those guys, and only limited girl-time after all!

As it turns out, there wasn’t plenty of time. He’s gone. Not due to an accident or a shooting or an alien invasion or anything. His own body did him in.

He was younger than me.

Wow. Kick in the gut!

I am delivering his eulogy tomorrow. I’ve rewritten it a hundred times and I hope it is good enough. As none of these people know me as Sophie, I’ll be in drab.

So what does any of this have to do with wearing pumps or a proper lipstick color? Well, it’s simple. I could be next. What do I want to accomplish before it’s my time? Do I have the courage to meet those goals?

Some of the goals are simple. I ask the simple questions. Am I Sophie? Yes. Will I continue to be Sophie? Yes.

Now the questions get harder. Will I go full time? Will I leave my male self behind and become the woman I know I am? Or is part time enough?

Now they get final exam essay hard. What if my wife finds out before I’m ready? How will I tell her when I am? What will I do to make a living as a woman? What about my daughter? My old friends- who will stand by me? My family?

Now back to Bob. Would Bob have stood by me? Bob was a very open, accepting, and happy soul, but he was a staunch Republican. I always found that to be quite a dichotomy. We discussed politics often, but I never broached trans-rights. Most of my old friends are very anti-gay and anti-trans. When they got together, the off-color jokes fly. But usually not from Bob.

Of all my old friends, I actually think that Bob would’ve accepted me as a woman. He would’ve realized what it means to me, and saw how happy it made me. As his friend, he would’ve lent support.

I’ll never find out now.

What I CAN do is to set myself goals, and learn from Bob that life is short. If I am going to live a fulfilled life, I need to get a move on. If I ever want to feel my own real breasts in a bra, happily go wherever as a woman and not worry about discovery, if I want to be true to myself, I need to start.

I wrote Bob’s eulogy. Who will write mine? Or will being Sophie cause me to die alone and anonymous? What will be said about me when I am gone? That I was brave? True to myself? Happy? Or that I was a coward?

A life is lived every day. And I’m letting my days go by — letting the water hold me down.

I’ll miss you Bob. I won’t miss being me. Not as I am anyway.

Tags: closeted, featured, Transgender, Transition, Transsexual

Category: Transgender Body & Soul