Mom and Pop

The Artist D

An interesting array of things spring to mind when people hear the words mom, dad, mother and father. I couldn’t tell you a statistic of how many people cringe vs. how many people smile fondly. For me, I could do either at any time.

The more years that pass has become the representation of how much distance is put between mom, dad and I.  If you were to ask me if I had a good or bad childhood I wouldn’t honestly be able to answer that. It was a good childhood and a great experience learning to become an adult, yet that’s leaving out so much stuff. Most people can easily say that they had a bad childhood. I think that’s the easiest answer for all of us. What would qualify as a good childhood? How can any of us stay so unbiased as to think it was all so wonderful?

Each road we travel is difficult no matter how much it is paved in gold. This is especially hard for a child. Children are taught about this life and the society they must function within. This is never an easy lesson no matter how much you fit into the mold prepared for you. For the transgender world we are not born into a readily accepted mold, so the lessons become even harder ones to swallow. Children are children learning to fit into a lot of things that they basically do not want to. This perception alone makes a bad childhood for some people. For others the situation truly was even more difficult than it had to be due to nefarious circumstances.

The more distance the years put between me and childhood I have begun to wonder when it all stops mattering quite so much. I look at my years from zero to twenty as “my childhood.” It didn’t really matter how old I was, it was still my childhood. I was raised by people and influenced by them that entire time. They taught me, they fought me and they influenced me with their opinions. When I finally disconnected from the place and the people it was a long hard recovery process. It doesn’t matter that it was a good experience. It matters that there is a disconnect when we suddenly get to start making our own moves without the constant battle with our surroundings.

After a decade of self-therapy I’ve started to look at things in a different light. I now feel more analytical toward my history instead of directly affected by it. I’m learning that it made me into something that I must now analyze instead of feel bad about. I think about my being a lot. Do I favor this or that because of what was etched in at eight years old? Do I favor something because I actually enjoy it?

There are people out there not knowing where to draw the line when it comes to their haunting histories. It’s a heavy line to deal with. It’s a delicate balance between shutting out all of it or learning from it without it destroying every future move.

Our histories are history. They exist in our hearts and minds. If you held out your hand full of troubles nobody else would see anything there but you! It is our responsibility to compile history as it is and not let it overwhelm. Don’t ever forget where you come from, but disconnect from it enough to see who you really are right now.

Tags: coping, featured, grownup, History, theartistd

Category: Transgender Body & Soul, Transgender Opinion