(by Alysyn Ayrica)
Well, I guess this is a hell of a way to start. I’ve been in kind of a writing slump lately, so please bear with me if I’m not all that prolific right out of the gate. Despite the fact that I have a zillion topics sloshing around in my skull, a heap o’ responses to so many of the brilliant posts I’ve been reading here, and a poem or two that I’ll spare you the trauma of actually having to trudge through, I can’t seem to, of late, generate the appropriate sentences structures to approximate a coherent thread.
So, I began to decipher what I know about human behavior regarding the impetus to converse fluently…only to discover the one thing that seems to draw the average person into focused verbal interaction…have them talk about themselves!
Will it work? Let’s find out…
Children have a tendency to function as a genetic reflector. My son is everything I should have been growing up…reserved, contemplative, easy going, assenting. My daughter is everything I actually was…emotional, pouty, argumentative…if I hadn’t been witness to her birth (as well as her, *ahem*, conception…) I would swear they simply cloned me outright!
Even though I had friends as a child, I was always viewing my playtime from the end of a tunnel. I felt disconnected from the idealistic reality that most children take for granted, as if there were a higher calling that was made known to me from early on which tainted my innocence, but which my lack of education forbade me to comprehend.
Growing up my innate desire to emote and naturally inquisitive nature were suppressed by the irate impatience of a father who’s own lack of education was expressed as a rage of insecurity, which was promply vented upon anyone who was petulant enough to actually love him, including his children. At the age of fifteen my emotional outpourings were so acute that my mother threatened to take me to a therapist…which, looking back would have been the most beneficial thing she could have done for me outside of basic necessities…
It was at this point, though, that I, instead, reacted with an extreme response. I became emotionally dead. I felt as if I had expended all emotion contained within me and had nothing left to feel. For the next fifteen years I essentially closed up shop.
In that time I became aware of a death within me, and spent the majority of my time in investigation and introspection. I believe that the emotional disconnect within me was also what allowed my bodies natural impulses to dominate my life so aggressively. I realized after a time that I had so little to offer anyone by way of a loving connection, that I would become, for the most part, a tool for pleasure. Had I not received so many “encouraging” comments in this regard over time I would even now consider myself to have failed in that endeavor.
This attitude spilled over into my marriage. My orgasm was merely an irreversible and unsatisfying function of a body which was already weary of it’s own existence. It was a constant reminder that it was only good for the pleasure of one person, because it’s owner wished for a role that would not only eliminate the need for further contextual response, but could express itself in a more appropriate manner. It was a concession to exist in a relatively functional male role.
The events throughout my marriage were what compelled me to consider my converse gender dysfunction seriously. From the first year my wife’s bipolar disorder became acute, although we weren’t aware of the diagnosis until the fifth year when it had progressed significantly. The years of emotional and psychological turmoil we experienced due to her (I realize now) inability to coherently apprehend reality in merely even a linear fashion, as well as her constant delusions, lack of comprehension and ability to process information in a contextual manner, took a decided toll on those walls which I had so painstakingly constructed to contain my emotions.
But it was the imminent death of my son in early infancy which destroyed them completely.
The fear of my family and friends, my pastor and those in my fellowship…my wife!...discovering the deeply guarded, padlocked-behind-iron-doors secret suddenly became the reality I had never wanted. In my mind I watched, with prophetess-like clarity, the loss of my marriage, the taking of my children, the backs of those whom I love dearly turning toward me as they looked away in shame. My reason told me that those who are truly loving would stay…yet I lost so much, that my reason be damned!
The first year and a half, as I developed more feminine physical qualities, I spent sorting out my masculine past. When I realized that I could no longer maintain the illusion of a male figure I merely shifted, relatively smoothly, into my life. For the next two years I existed within a cocoon of self-analysis and court battles.
I had began a few new, and as it turned out long term, friendships, but was essentially alone and lonely. I watched, again from a distance, as my marriage came to a legal end, as my children began to disconnect from me, and as my financial situation became even more dire than it had been. I could no longer afford to maintain my aggressive hormonal therapy and often fell into wells of severe and life-threatening depression. Only once did I end up in an ambulance, but that was due to a manipulative act on the part of my wife, and did more to embarrass and anger me than anything.
Watching the deterioration of my wife was horribly disconcerting, yet when she died, though saddened, I was not surprised. Despite the turbulence she created I miss her terribly at times. The burden that was lifted at her passing is indescribable, though, and has allowed me, for the first time in many, many years, to identify a peace in my life which has been relatively nonexistent. In so many words, things are quiet now.
Monday, October 10, 2005
(by Alysyn Ayrica)
Posted by Alysyn at 2:29 AM
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