Across Five Aprils

(Oh and if anyone can figure out where I stole that title without Google, I’ll be impressed!)

Spring is here! Oh wait…*snowstorm*

Okay, spring is h…*snowstorm* Spring i…*snowstorm*

OK, spring is *waits* *waits* here! *snowstorm*

April is here, anyway. I think. And it’s supposed to be Spring. *snowstorm* OK! I get it! Enough already!

In any case, this marks my fifth spring living my Truth. What does that mean? Well, spring usually means more colorful clothes, skirts that flow better, warm weather, and baseball! Spring is supposed to turn a young man’s fancy toward love, but what is it supposed to do for women? Turn our fancy toward florals? Pepper spray?

This spring is different from the rest in that I have a LOT more time to, um, enjoy it. I’m still unemployed, so I can go outside and enjoy the weather.

*snowstorm*

Whatever. As I type this, it’s sunny and 80 degrees here in southeast Pa. I’ll probably take a walk when I finish this piece and my editor unlocks these shackles. They chafe. My roomie and bestie Linda has a bike. Maybe I’ll go for a ride. Or not. I don’t know.

Spring is the season of renewal — rebirth. New leaves, plants, all that. Yes, I know that’s a cliché, and “SUMMER” expecting me to compare spring to being transgender. I won’t. Spring is supposed to be fun and light. Being transgender isn’t.

Get it? Summer? It’s a… season… never mind.

April is famous for its rain. We’ve been getting that as well. I used to love walking in the rain. When I was a child, I had a poncho, and I’d walk all around my small town during rainy days. I felt isolated, yet secure in the rain. Just me and the sound of the rain on the vinyl of the poncho. The smell of fresh rain.

I used to think a lot on those walks. I wondered why I was different. Why I couldn’t be normal, like everyone else? Why did I experience this… ache? Why was God punishing me? What did I do wrong?

That kind of thinking burrows deep into a child’s brain — especially the “pain is punishment” part. And if God was punishing me, I must be bad, right? But why? How? That may have been the root of my extreme self-loathing — my absolute Hatred of myself.

In that way, my whole life had been a Winter. “Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York”… oh sorry. I fell into Shakespearean mode. A mode of writing not my own. A fantasy.

And fantasy is how I coped. I created elaborate fantasy worlds in my imagination where I was the heroine. I wish I had written them down. They were as intricate as reality, and I kept adding to them. Being alone a lot or being often grounded to your room means you have a lot of thinking time as well. I also took refuge in science fiction. I was a HUGE Trekkie, and when Star Wars came out in 1977, I latched onto that as well. ANYTHING was better than my reality where I was a freak. Any escape from the pain. A year later, I found Dungeons & Dragons.

Eventually, I started dressing. Then stopped. For 25 years.

Now I’m Sophie full time, and it’s Spring. Beautiful spring. It’s April. April showers bring May flowers. And you know what May flowers bring?

Pilgrims.

I’ll see myself out.

*snowstorm*

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Tags: featured, opinion, Transgender, Transition

Category: Transgender Body & Soul