If I am lucky, only half of my life is over.  The reality of getting a whole new life as a woman.

Who needs fantasy when reality tastes this good?

I kept myself alive for many years by just telling myself that I could transition when it was finally safe to do so, when I was 80.  But sooner or later doubt crept in.  What if I died first?  I didn’t want that.  I wanted to die female. And goodness, that is one heck of an operation to have when you are 80. Dying male was not an option for me.

Somewhere along the line, and very recently too, I stopped wanting to confine that life to the twilight of my physical existence this time around.  A sex change operation is pretty serious too.  One year recovery time in total.  3 months without exercise.  That’s going to be tough.  I’m thinking I should run a marathon, or better still, an iron-trans marathon, so I have that much more muscle to let atrophy.  Prepare my body for pain.

The incredible joy I feel every day, almost every waking moment of every day, is so utterly delicious, it is hard to describe.  Yes, I have bouts of doubt and fear, spend time crying, sometimes wake up with a real feeling of the blues, but it doesn’t last long like it used to, because I’m on my way.

You’ve seen videos of cows coming out to pasture for the first time in spring after a long, dark, cold winter all cooped up inside and eating dried grass, and suddenly, sunshine, flowers, fresh food, fresh air.  They jump with joy.  That’s what every cell in my body is doing right now.

And if you combine that kind of dizzy-giddy happiness with puberty, which is chemically where I’m at, but this time give the pubescent child the confidence of a an ex-patriach, ex-CEO, ex-product of privilege, and you have a heady cocktail of positivity to work with.

What I do with that powerful energy is another topic altogether.  This post is about loving life.  I am loving life so much right now that I want to live forever.  Ahem.  Okay.  I’d like to be able to have as rich a second life as a trans woman as I did as a man.  Boy me set the bar pretty high, professionally at least.  Divisional CEO of a listed company in my early 30’s.  Two books published by the same time.  Children.  Okay.  Was all of that noise to hide from myself? Losing myself in work? Perhaps.

Maybe it shouldn’t matter one bit, but I fervently hope that Trans me, this woman, is going to do even better. She has to. Not because of some sense of determination. But because she is free. I am free. And in that sense, and my current joy levels, result from this. The universe is being kind right now.

[Star Child says I am not free enough. That I have carried enough of my baggage forward with me: slavery, BDSM, kink, sense of moral duty…she encourages me to let it all go. We will see whether her ministrations help or not].

First, I give thanks to the male privilege that I have benefited from, and for all the people in society whose suffering and marginalisation made it possible.  While I have never knowingly benefited from it, having grown up in a “progressive” setting, it is impossible to ignore.  It makes me all the more keen to shed it.

Second, now more than ever, we are what we make of ourselves.  More importantly is the realisation that our behaviour is our most important gift to our fellow humans.

Third, as a trans-woman, I have no choice.  The privilege of my trans-ness is far greater than anything I had or received as a male.  We dwell on the ‘courage’ of being trans, but it takes more courage to deny our nature.  It takes more courage to hide.  Coming out, being out, just being who we are is much easier—for we flow.

When I say there is ‘no choice’ I mean that as a sense of personal responsibility.  When the enemy is near, is all around us, striving to live in ways that are morally clean becomes critical.  My favourite “sin” to carry into this context is the tremendous respect I have for the sex worker.  The healing that I have received from the professional community has been at least as significant as what I received from traditional therapy.  Different, yes, but still very real.  [Star Child thinks I should let this go. That it isn’t healthy.]

In other words, my morality will not be created by others.  My morality is centred on a profound sense of right and wrong, at the root of which is acceptance.  My favourite therapist recently posted about narcissism and social distrust of narcissism.  She rightly pointed out that our fear and dislike of the narcissist speaks more about us than it does about the narcissist.

I may be on thin ice here as someone who has been pointed as being a narcissist.  Perhaps I have some of it in me.  To say we all do is just an excuse.  After all, I admit to being a baby.  And isn’t that what a narcissist is, a big baby?  And yes, I do want things from people, though I am getting much better at letting go and just being.

I struggled to hear the narcissism message when it was delivered to me because the two people who delivered it to me had very unclean motive…perhaps not deliberately, but it was certainly not coming from a healing place but was rather self-serving.  

What do I want most from others?  Shared exploration, shared innocence, shared curiosity.  And I also really love to take care of people.  It is curious, but my submission has variously been described as “mothering” or other tending or domestic things.  And yes, I do enjoy having people to look after. [Star child has been asking me to think about this quite a bit, as she observes me in life and sees that I am not so submissive at all. Oh well.]

It is the most curious thing.  The attributes which have been variously described as positive masculine attributes: being a rock, providing non-judging support, being there for someone, taking care of—these are all attributes which seem to have grown stronger in me since my transition.  It is strange to me that by embodying and allowing for my feminine energy to really flow, that my masculine energy can exist unabashedly core in my psyche.

Life is so juicy

At night I look forward to going to bed because it is delicious.  And I look forward to the idea that I will wake up the next day and get to have another beautiful day to experience life in.  I have so much fun with people.  I am meeting the most interesting and wonderful new souls.  They are part of my freedom, as are so many of you who read this blog.

Part of that is my yummy mushroom coffee.  I still do drink coffee coffee from time-to-time, but it was surprisingly not difficult to give up.  I switched to mushroom-laced chocolate, ported over my spices, and enjoy this drink (unsweetened) with the great satisfaction of knowing all that it contains are things which make my body happy.

The Rest of Life

I’ve always been an intentional person.  Setting goals.  Working towards things.  I still do that, but the ride has become much more fun.  I am not willing to forget the moment.  And I am finding joy in smaller and smaller things.  A smile from my yoga teacher, a cup of tea, quiet time with a friend, reconnection with all of the friends I stopped seeing because I believed it when I was told that I didn’t need friends, but in reality that was just a reflection of the discomfort of my partner, who just didn’t like my friends, or more generally, just didn’t like the idea of me having friends.

You know that old saying, “what’s mine is yours, and what’s ours is yours, and what’s yours is yours?” It pertains to stuff, but with my Ex it seemed to have also meant friendships and everything, our “brand”, our business, the sense of entitlement is galling, and will thankfully soon be behind me–I hope.

When you are good to people, fun to be around, even the doubters will come around. I see this most profoundly with my children. They seem to have worked through the things that made them fear what is happening with me. Are finding it will all work out. The good people over at Chaturbate sent me a gift box of wonderful branded swag for the writing on this blog–“contribution to humanity” I like to think of it, but for the musings on sexuality and trans-life…and my kids asked if they could have it. They will wear it with pride.

And it makes me think, my boy life was full and complete.  My intention could very well be to ensure that my girl life is even more complete.  I should wish for nothing less.  And I ask myself, ‘why on earth shouldn’t I get to have a second life?’  It is a bit like multiple orgasms I guess, because the first time around wasn’t bad.  Lot’s of joy on a bed of dysphoria still makes for joy.

And why on earth should society begrudge me that?  Why on earth should anyone have the temerity to tell someone else that they cannot be free, that they cannot live their true, authentic lives?  Why on earth would someone ever think it is right to determine what happens with someone else’s body is a matter for public discourse?  Same for abortion, same for trans.  We are autonomous, and fxxk anyone who thinks ‘society’ has a right to shape and control our bodies.

And it is all the same kind of bad energy.  It is their fear.  Fear of a woman un-leashed, fear of a woman who chooses to own her own body.  Female of female sexuality.  That may be about abortion, but it could just as well be about me, about any trans person.  About someone who struggles with their weight.  About someone with the “wrong” skin colour.  Or anything else.  The human tapestry is beautiful because of our differences, not because of our sameness.

The opposite force to globalisation, a homogeneous world, is individuality.  Being us as uniquely us.

Celebrate your kink.  Celebrate your difference.  Celebrate your ugliness.  How you don’t fit.

And I am aware that it makes some people uncomfortable that I would give up privilege, that I would say ‘the men’s club isn’t all that it is cracked up to be’, or ‘actually, I prefer solidarity with women, with queer people, with victims, with the downtrodden, with the marginalised’.

That’s my kink.  What’s yours?

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