Finally, I am getting over myself. So many strands of my personality creep in and I become annoying at best, and at its ultimate worst, stifling. My nearly non-existent self esteem causes me to judge, ridicule and throw away my peace. Unfortunately, at times, at someone else’s cost. It’s a learning curve.
I wanted to camp out at the Center last night. Never to leave. To surround myself with the hearts and souls of the men who spoke. To absolutely sense with every part of my being, their sharing. The triumphs. The foibles. Part of me felt my talking would take away from another’s; someone in my group may have had a more important issue and needed to speak more that I did. Assured I was not, I spoke about a tiny piece of my journey.
Out of respect for my brothers, I will not post here any portion or content of the shares. Suffice it to say I’ve never felt more welcomed in a group situation as I did last night. I felt appreciated. As I’ve felt out of place since I discovered my true self as a trans masculine individual– being older, living in the ‘burbs, lacking physical support (groups in my area)– it’s mostly a matter of self doubt that takes me to those places. I need to be strong on my own two feet.
People in the city aren’t like me and that’s okay. Many don’t smile much or expect me to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ when they’ve performed a service or let me in line while boarding the train. I guess it’s the way I was raised. Somehow it keeps me in touch with humanity. Riding the train makes me happy. I’ve etched out a direct route from the station to Mazzoni, which is about a half block away. The guys in my group are like family. I feel they’ll be waiting for me. Next week I’ll traverse the city alone. Yet, I won’t be lonely.