Transgender: Unseen and Invisible
There is no good answer. There is no right answer.
I ran. My breath ragged and sore in my throat, mouth wide open for more air. My legs ached and complained with every step as I pushed around a corner past a big gnarly oak and started uphill. Rocks and roots forced me to change my cadence, playing hopscotch as I worked my way upwards. Peering up through sweat stinging eyes, the top of the path seemed to be miles away. I gritted my teeth and kept putting one leg ahead of the other. “Make it to the next switchback, and then we will see,” I promised my aching body!
My body knew I lied, but my will was indomitable. I would press on.
Her painful words echoed in my head. “If you do this, it’s over. I love you, but I can’t handle any more change.” I tried to focus on something else. But I wasn’t changing! I am finally living as, revealing, and becoming myself! That is different! I can see how that looks like change, but I am still the same person!
“Damn it!” she thought to herself, “you are not focusing on something else! Do better, girl!” She looked up towards the crest, blinking the salt and sweat out of her burning eyes. Each step seemed to be a tortured push towards, what? Freedom? Escape?
