Last night was movie night as I mentioned yesterday--it was 'Easy A' and 'the To-Do list', both of which I found rather enjoyable. (In fact, at least one of the guys watching the movie more or less said something I thought was spot on. To paraphrase...neither movie made me particularly want to watch it with its advertisements, but after having watched them, I am thoroughly impressed with them, and they're certainly worthy of respect.)
...But that's not the point of this blog post. I have in mind something a bit more serious. It is, however, relevant to what I'm going to be talking about. Because as you can tell...we only watched two movies. That left me in the position where I didn't have an endless amount of time, but I didn't have any task lined up to complete. In other words, I had time to kill while waiting for the Saturday-night anime on [adult swim] to begin. (Which, by the way, increased my odds from the base-60 to a higher-70, since Toonami is to blame for me getting only two hours of sleep thanks to the time the FMA movie ended up finishing.)
So I decided to spend that time productively and did some writing. And it was while I was writing that I realized...more and more, my writing's beginning to channel my fears as a transwoman, particularly right now the loss of family that I recently blogged about. Now with some minor tweaking, that'll create some super-powerful writing, to impress everyone at how well I capture the essence of loss. Right now, though, as of the current moment, not so much--instead, all it's doing is annoyingly making my writing more sloppy thanks to the mental distraction. (Ah, well. That's what the third draft will be for. With luck, anyway. I'm still happy with what I'm writing, just slightly less so than before.)
...Yet that got me thinking some more, and I realized...as my strength grows in being a transwoman, so too does the pain. Things I've previously grown numb to in order to form a coping mechanism have, for the first time in ages, begun to become painful again as my hope yet again starts to rise. The more badly I want it (and I want it very, very, oh so very badly), the more it hurts, and sometimes, I just feel like letting out all those pent-up feelings, of releasing it all and talking to someone (rather than just a blog)...but there's nobody that I trust. So it keeps building and building up, this hope that I can have an ally.
While it's certainly been getting stronger for other reasons (some documented in this blog, some not), though, I think one thing driving the hope so strongly right now is the incoming nature of Christmas, and the last time I felt this way was the crushing defeat of July, as my birthday approached and then passed. It's minorly-relevant, but traditionally, gifts came from just my parents and their parents (my grandparents), but as of recently (especially last year), it's begun shifting to being us kids responsible for getting the gifts for the others.
...Yet the results don't change. I suppose for gifts, to me, they could theoretically get me a tablet so that drawing's easier, or maybe an art program like Paint Tool Sai, both things that I would legitimately appreciate. But other than that, not so much. In fact, I'd be absolutely fine with a "I gave none, so I get none" policy because I don't know them well enough to give them gifts any more than they do, me. They're unlikely to even know about how useful those would be for my art, so how would they know about my actual desire?
I know it'll never happen, but...I keep on dreaming that on the faithful day, they lather me with the gifts I actually want: a first dress for me to wear, a first ring for me to adorn, a first earring to clip on, a first jewelry-bracelet to slip onto my wrist (this, by the way, is another feminine habit I used to have: any wrist object I could put around my arm, I did, specifically to act as makeshift-jewelry), a first pair of heels for me to try my feminine walk in, a first makeup kit for me to more easily pass, you get the idea.
Those are the gifts I dream of getting, not only because I want those things (I really, really badly want them more than almost any other desire I can think of short of having actually been born female to begin with), but also because...because they send the message I oh so desperately want to hear that...well, "We know...and, yes, we still love you and accept you for who you are." Those are what the gifts would truly mean for me. No words could ever mean more to me than that.
...But sadly, it's just that...a dream. A false hope, never to come. Which makes the pains I was already experiencing that much worse. I wish I could cry. Yet I can't, in spite of my desire to. The world's asking me to be strong, despite how weak I actually feel.