Here There Be Monsters

This week’s post is purely personal, and pretty long. I hope my followers understand that it is still important to my journey, even though it’s not topic-based. Something happened Friday night, and in order to understand where I am in my transition, it’s important for me to talk about.

It’s the second time a girl I imagined spending the rest of my life with walked out the door with me bawling on the floor. And this time even though I was with her for less time, I loved her more than anyone else I’ve ever loved, and connected with her in a way I’ve never connected with anyone else. Only this time is different in another way, too. This time I’m a pre-op trans woman with no friends close enough to let me cry on except for the one that just left. And the only one I really want to talk to – to have tell me it’s okay. That I’ll be okay. But I feel as far from okay as I can get. I feel a big empty hole in my life – next to me when I sleep at night, and when I wake up in the morning, and when I come home from work.

She was the one who knew me. The one I could tell anything. The one who called me her girlfriend, called me Natalie when nobody else understood. And now, when everybody else is starting to understand, and I’m finally getting a foot in the door to being me, to being happy, I’m crumbling again. And now I don’t have any friends I can invite over to watch sad movies with. I’m just alone to deal with the hurt, the empty, the lonely. And it’s unbearable.

I think about what it will be like to not have her in my life. I think about never being with anyone else again, because who would want to be with me? I’m a lesbian with a…yeah… who has social interaction issues and an inability to even make friends. I look at all of her stuff, still here, still reminding me, and think about what it will be like when she comes to pick it all up. Will she come when I’m not home and leave the key on the table? Will she talk to me, hug me one last time before she promises to be my friend, and then slowly draws away from me until I’m just a faint memory of someone she used to date?

I think about the half-finished blanket sitting on the floor that I’ve been crocheting for her for three months. Of the way she just looked at me, not saying anything, when I handed her the papers in her own handwriting that I wasn’t supposed to find, talking about how she knew it was over, and that love alone can’t make a relationship work, and that we were incompatible from the beginning. I wish I didn’t tell her I found them. I wish I hadn’t found them. The conclusion would have been the same, but maybe I would have gotten to wake up next to her for a few more mornings.

I think about her watching me cry, of her packing a bag at midnight while I watch, bawling. About how she tells me I should go to bed because I need sleep, that I couldn’t sit on the floor all night. Was it because she cares, or to make her feel better about what she was doing to me? Maybe both. Maybe it doesn’t even matter. I keep wondering what I did, even though she keeps telling me nothing, that we just don’t work. That I can’t change who I am or give up my progress to make her happy. But what’s my progress worth without her? How much more can I possibly make without her supporting me like she has?

She’s gone, and I’m left with a giant hole in my life, and her things everywhere I look. How do you get over that? How do you get over someone so important, so crucial in your life? It took years last time. And this time, well this time it hurts even more, and the hole feels even bigger. This time I was actually happy despite all the challenges in my life. Now I realize that transition alone isn’t making me happy. She’s been there the whole time, and I can’t separate it from her. She held my hand when people laughed at the boy wearing a skirt. She was the first person I ever felt comfortable enough to wear a dress in front of, even though I’d only known her for a couple months then. She helped me shop as I tucked myself behind her, ashamed to be picking out bras when I still don’t pass. She shared her clothes, and helped pick out what would look good on me. She held me as I cried so many times when I just couldn’t handle being me. And doing all that alone seems impossible.

She says she still wants to be my friend. I want that, too. This girl knows everything there is to know about me, but somehow still likes me. She sees in me what I can’t see in myself sometimes. And a person like that only comes along so often. I don’t blame her for leaving. I understand. Well, I don’t understand, but I understand that she isn’t happy with me anymore, and doesn’t think I can be what she needs in a partner. I don’t know why. There is no clear reason, even though I wish there was. But she’s the smartest person I know, and if she thinks it’s the right thing for her, I believe her, and I can’t be mad at her for that. I hope we can stay good friends more than anything. She is so good for me. She is such a good person. And I can’t imagine a life void of her all together, and I hope I can fulfill a friendship with her where I can’t give her what she needs in a relationship.

But what is happy without her? I’m not sure. I don’t know what the future has for me. We talked about kids someday, but that just seems like a far off dream now. I’ll be lucky to ever find someone who will even date me, now. I have no idea how to date as a lesbian, never mind as a trans lesbian. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. I have two terrible jobs with no job security and no prospects, and a boatload of student loans. I still live at home. I have no real-life friends. I have no social hobbies. All I have is a legal name that doesn’t match my body, and no idea what to do next. I finally care about my life. But I still don’t know how to make it a life worth living. I don’t want to die, and I don’t know how to live.

I don’t know how to fight like a grrrl when I can barely do anything but stay in bed and cry, work, and come back home and cry.

So this time I’m not going to leave you with that tagline, because it seems a little dishonest. This time, I’ll leave you with the promise that I’ll see you next week with a new topic. Maybe by then I’ll have a little more fight in me.

-Natalie

Note: I wrote this two days after the fact, on Sunday. Since then she cleaned her stuff out when I was at work, and I cried a little more. I cleaned my room and came close to crying again a day later. And we talked. And we keep talking. And when I feel a little better, we’re going to start talking in person again. It’s still really hard. And I still get waves of hopelessness at least once a day. It’s worse at night and in the morning when she used to be there going to bed or waking up with me. When I’m alone where I’m used to her in the other room doing homework, or just having her presence there across the room. But knowing that I still have a friend, someone who understands me and the experiences we shared, helps. Helps a lot. I’m still not totally sure of where to go from here, but knowing she’ll still be there to share my journey with is comforting. I guess time will tell what happens next.

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