As the New Year begins, I find myself yearning to write. To gather thoughts, ideas, facts and revelations; to jot them down in any form imaginable. Mostly, I write my blog following a meeting of the trans masculine group I’m part of. Over the past month I’ve missed going to Center City two weeks in a row. Once due to overeating holiday foods and the second, because the chill factor was in the single digits.
This has caused me to pause and reflect a bit over my writings from other W.W.C. works and J.W. entries. Always amused and sometimes touched by what can come of a ten minute prompt, I become excited by the mere thought of writing–anything. An email, a note to a friend. Even comments on FB get me to thinking.
This year will be the year of Me. The year where I investigate and image my Self toward transformation. Yes, there’s always the question of “Will I or won’t I.” Have the surgery; take Testosterone. There are many other factors involved. It’s imperative I become as comfortable as possible in my own mind and skin. I’m a guy. Don’t wish to be a man. I’m masculine, yet see myself as bi-gender. A good deal to mull over.
My aim is to be on board with my thoughts and whatever changes my body may or may not take. It’s not important that I write about timely issues and publish the findings. Now. I could roughly come to conclusions on paper and share them with the world. Or not. I will blog and blog and, in doing so, effort toward knowledge and self-acceptance. To rant and vent. To curse and scream and holler. To unravel and then ravel again. To peel the layers of the onion so deep the reader’s eye might burn.
I am blessed. I say this repeatedly because I didn’t always feel blessed. I say it to remind myself to practice humility. To not exude charm and airs but tact and simplicity. To take part in life. To remember: without grief, gratitude, and circumstance, I/We are lacking.