Lost and Found

I’m blogging from my bedroom tonight because the painters are coming tomorrow and I had to move the PC.  I’m feeling rather sad tonight.  I was moving the stacks of books around to get them out of the way and found some of my journal writings from two years ago.  The ink was still drying on the decision to transition.  I found a timetable that had me living full time since January of this year.  A little too ambitious I would say.  I’m feeling a great sense of loss tonight.  Tonight makes a year that KPo left me for good.  Tomorrow will make three years since Dad died.

A memory came to me, I’m not sure why this particular memory; but it was of the first time I drove home in female mode after having stayed over Rita’s in Allston.  I had never been out in daylight before.  I was always shrouded by the dark of night.  I remember driving my fiero and stopping in Randolph somewhere to buy a pack of smokes.  I remember it feeling so exhilarating to drive around in daylight wearing a skirt.  I remember what I was wearing too.  I had on a pale brown suede skirt, a brown body suit (left behind by Yollie), brown tights, and brown suede flats.  Mom was home when I got there.  I quickly came in the door and went directly into the bathroom.  I think she caught a slight glimpse of me, but apparently it didn’t register.  I was trying to figure out when this event actually occurred. I reasoned it out to around 1993.  I had my degree and was working as a welder at a construction company.  I used to spend a lot of time alone, welding and thinking about the next time I would be going out with Rita in Boston.  My favorite store back then was contempo casuals.  And to think I could actually fit into that stuff.  I think the largest size they had was 9, but it fit, I think…

Back then was when I had my first serious thoughts of transitioning.  After meeting Rita and the others, I wanted to do it so badly, but I just couldn’t take the plunge.  The scene that I was exposed to gave me a very negative view of transsexuals.  Most of the people I was around were prostitutes.  I didn’t know anyone that had a regular 9-5, and that lived an otherwise normal life.  Through research on the internet I found that transsexual doesn’t necessarily equal prostitute.  Thinking back now, it was too scary to me, too real.  I had been sitting on the fence for ten years when I finally couldn’t deny it any longer.  I’m sort of glad that I didn’t transition at that point in time.  I probably would have become a prostitute as well.  Things happen for a reason they say.  Still the time that I have left behind, unused, lost; is difficult to let go of.  Now I must to look to the future very carefully, and use the past as a reminder of who I am.  I just want to be the woman I always envisioned myself to be.  Me.