Brotherly Love.

Morning Gorgeous xx

Because you are, all of you, in your own unique way. And that doesn’t always have to be physically beautiful. The pain and psychological discomfort caused by looking in a mirror, and seeing someone you don’t like looking back at you, can be life threatening. It’s horrible, and it’s well known. I’m not going deep into that, although I could as I wouldn’t be who I am now if that didn’t happen to me. But I’m touching on the subject because it’s at the forefront of my mind this morning.

You see today, I’m happy. Not ecstatically happy. Not overjoyed. Not Bi-Polar (whoa, guys; calm down). I just feel good. I don’t want to go out and spend a million bucks, pounds for the die-hard English amongst us. I don’t want to go out and run through a field naked, I’d probably scare people. And I don’t want to hit the clubs and party, I’d rather spend a night in with close friends like I did last night.

So you get where I’m coming from though, it’s that slightly care-free, buoyant, happiness. That happiness where, as a woman, you get up in a morning and you do things with just that little touch of flamboyance. Guys, it’s the kind of movement where; when you see a bloke do it, you instantly think he’s gay, effeminate. Drag Queens and Gays, you’ll get it, but for ****’s sake do you lot go overboard – reign it in. Girls, it’s the little flick of the wrist, but not a flick, more a graceful movement. When your movements carry a certain, joi de vivre – but not, do you get me – don’t over think it and you’re getting close.

I’m doing it now, as I’m thinking. It’s little flicks of the fingers with your forefinger ending up on your lip.

Now as this is something I don’t feel very often. So, It’s nice when it comes along, as these moments should be treasured. Remembered. Wrote down :).

As you’ve guessed, today, I fell feminine – “Man, I feel like a woman”, lol. I feel positively feminine, like things appear to be changing for the better. Like I can look that little bit further forward but I don’t want to speak too soon though, because that would be bad. Although I do feel like that, if things carry on the way they are, the end result could mean that I get my life back together. And that’s a positive feeling.

But…

I looked in the mirror when I got up and Bert was staring back at me. I hadn’t put my make-up on – and still haven’t, but now it’s deliberate. Bert is who I used to be, Bert was a man. Bert was a crazy, angry, intelligent, slightly opinionated, eccentric, man. Bert had an interesting life. He started many things, he didn’t finish most of them – He was always chopping and changing his mind. Constantly running away from things, yet running towards something but not knowing what. He found himself in some interesting situations and via those he did some really important things. He also did some really bad things, things you should regret doing; but he didn’t. Bert was generally ****ed up, and everybody but Bert knew it.

Seeing Bert, and now my hair is growing, my / his dad, looking back at me; creates dysphoria. Bert is gone, he’s not coming back. I still get a lot of mail through my door for Bert, but that will drop off in time as I, Vikki take over. But Bert, for all intents, is dead.

Or is he…

I think this is where my viewpoint might differ from a lot of Trans people, and I certainly haven’t seen this mentioned anywhere. But I’ve decided I don’t want to forget my past. I’ve decided I don’t want to forget Bert. I’ve decided I don’t want a total transformation.

I’ve decided, and I cry to think about it, that Bert was my Brother.

And we were close.

I come from a big family anyway. I had 3 sisters and 1 brother. My mother had six brothers and My father had 1 brother &, I believe, one sister (but I can’t remember). My step father had a brother and a sister. My grandparents had multiple brothers and sisters. And they all had kids, there’s a few of us around.

I wasn’t close to my sisters though, and if they ever read this, they’ll know it – don’t call me, I’ll call you. I stopped talking to my brother in 2001 after A LOT of fighting – he just couldn’t get me; and he was the cause of a lot of my dysphoria (for a different reason) when I growing up. Outwardly, I had a good relationship with my mother and step-father, but if we’re all honest about it, it wasn’t real – there were unresolved issues.

But the relationship with me and Bert. It was different, and it’s going to be different. He lived in my body for 45 years. He shaped my body – He could’ve done a better job, but he was a man after all :). He did a lot of things for me. And he did a lot of things I wish he hadn’t have done, but it’s too late for that now. He also gave me a son, whom I love dearly. Overall Bert wasn’t that bad a bloke.

Bert also had a feminine side, me as it turns out and most of his friends were female. That was a BIG problem for Bert, being a man; we all know what Bert was thinking. If there was a place he could put it, he would if the opportunity arose – no questions asked. But he liked female company, he liked women, just not in the way a woman would want a man too. He loved talking to women and he loved helping them solve their problems, he was good at that. He loved having female friends, and I think women liked that about Bert because I know I do.

When I look in a mirror though, and I see Bert staring back at me. It’s a problem though, because he’s not around any more – He’s a ghost. And I don’t wake up until I put my war paint on. Every morning, I have a little cry about that and I have to learn to deal with it.

So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to accept it – I can do that. I accepted he came first for 45 years and I lived as him, for 45 years. He shaped my life and my body. He was me. He was my brother and I am his sister.

The haters, the negative people out there, the weirdo’s and those who have an issue with Trans people will all say I’m schizophrenic – I have mental health issue – I need help. Yeah, **** me I do, oh you’re so right, I have a mental health issue – I’m Autistic, I have Asperger Syndrome, a learning disability. I could do with some help with that. But this, I need help to understand this. I need help to come to terms with this. I need help to make Bert a part of my life, my past, that shaped me and who I am today. A part of my life that I can look back on without regret.

Or maybe I don’t. Maybe, just maybe, with a little patience and the will to understand, forgive and grieve, I can do this on my own.

And just maybe, so can you.

Lot’s of love,

 

Vikki xx