Period. Comma, or Question Mark?

It’s been one of those periods. Allow a correction, it’s been another one of those periods. Maybe you’ve experienced it; uncertainty followed by questioning followed by another layer of uncertainty. Yes, you know about it? You’re a charter member of the club? Or no, what are you Nikki some kind of crazy twilight zone citizen?

I would never join a club that would have me as a member. I didn’t coin the phrase but sometimes I wonder if it fits better than my most comfortable pair of heels.

A gender girl friend said that women are God’s little joke; now that she’s experiencing personal summer once an hour, throwing off jacket or sweater as her body overheats. She stated that skin removal would be next if things got any more torrid.

Sometimes I feel like a part of that joke. I run hot and cold, one of my closest TGirl friends will attest, sign an affidavit, testify in the court of friendly opinion. It’s frustrating. I have an ordered life, well-oiled (and not just with moisturizer) and under control. Except… when imagination runs headlong into desire. I can’t wait to get home and tear off the stubby male trappings. Evenings are filled with pampering and feminine enjoyment. Then a restless night insinuates itself on my reverie.

Looking in the mirror in the morning — I know sounds scary right? To see stubble that I refuse to acknowledge except with the triple blade in the shower — with each pass of the blade I wish away what I don’t appreciate.

This male intrusion on my feminine fantasy is sometimes too much. I’m no quitter but I do weaken from time to time. I vacillate, wax and wane, rise and fall, enjoy then fret.

It comes down to a crazy cycle, wish and dream, invest energy and effort to give Nikki her space then after a wonderful evening fight the inevitable of returning to the little joke that has been lingering for too many years. Next comes resolve, deal with the duality and enjoy both worlds. No wait, run down the list of requirements for successful transition. Then consider the implications in the professional and personal segments of life. Next comes the financial calculations — can it cost that much to fulfill my destiny? Oh hell be true to yourself — that’s the next admonition. All of this then “repeat”!

I’m my own tired master (or is it mistress) of the patently obvious. But who am I? Ever get that question from the little angel perched on your shoulder? She’s there to remind me. I brush her away; tell her to go haunt somebody else’s life. She’s quiet for a while. The little voice of reason is smart — much smarter than me. But she’s already the woman I want to be. She reappears when she knows I need — and girl oh girl do I need.

So there I am, defaulting on the commitment to be the person I have suppressed for too long. She’ll understand, I conjecture. No, she won’t. And she doesn’t — understand that is.

Where are you going with this Nikki?

Glad you asked.

What I am experiencing is natural, it’s almost a requirement to get to a decision. Oh yeah, that decision is not black and white, not cut and dry. The path isn’t illuminated; there are dark corners. Every intersection, every cross street, every fork in the road of my life is devoid of signage. The trail of breadcrumbs I leave (in case I want to go back) get blown away by the blustery wind that cuts across my landscape.

Sometimes it’s good to get the feelings out — put them into words — articulate them. It works for me. I pour out the gray water and my pipes are clear again for a while. What I know is that the more times I put my feelings into words the more manageable my situation. Keeping things pent up contributes to the tension. That brand of tension is unhealthy and the resultant eruption can be devastating.

Now I can smile again, lift the shroud that blocks the sun, feel its warmth as my gyroscope is re-calibrated.

Get out the feelings, whether good or bad, high or low, black or white or any of the million shades of whatever color your glasses. You’ll not only feel better; you will also realize you are not alone.

Love and hugs, Nikki

Tags: featured, Identity, Transgender

Category: Transgender Body & Soul