My World

"Welcome to my world, where everyone I ever need always ends up leaving me alone" -Sick Puppies

This seems to ring true. Not for my family, although apparently my sister seems to not want anything to do with me, but for people I meet in normal situations. I feel like I have a very easy time of meeting people and getting to know them, but then when I drop "The Bomb" on them my feelings, and even existence, are suddenly irrelevant.

For me it is important to let people I might want to get involved with that I'm am transgender. I'm being honest with them up front. In general no one cares at first, but you can always tell when someone backs off because they found out something they can't get over. Honestly I don't mind. It's better to have them back off before there is a chance for attachment.

I just didn't realize that it would be so difficult to find someone who was okay. Who could see me for who I am and not what is between my thighs. I get it, you aren't gay, but I'm not a gay man either. I'm a pansexual woman. It isn't rocket science. I want to be held and kissed just like any other woman. I would love it if someone wanted to make a fool of their-self by singing an off tune song to me.

Yet it seems like everyone I meet that damn little bastard is a deal breaker. Go figure. A fighter to the bitter end.

Anyway, rant off. Enjoy my theme song:

I Just Want My Daddy

A few days ago Ayden lay in bed talking to his mom. I could hear the murmurs, but couldn't make out the conversation. A little while later Amanda yells for me to come into her room. "Ayden thinks it's his fault that you are a girl," she says, "He says you should cut your hair and just be his daddy."

If you heard a shattering on December 12th late at night, it was likely my heart breaking for my child. I had to lay down next to him and explain that it was in no way his fault. I added that it was no one's fault. That I just need to be a woman. With tears in my eyes, I had to explain to a five year old that he has an Ali. And she loves him very much.

The next day several things went through my mind as I cried to myself at work. Maybe I could stop. Stop my hormones, unlearn any feminization that I have picked up, purge my clothes and just go back. To make my son happy. Why not? I already spent 26 years hiding my feelings, hiding ME. What is another few years for my child?

Of course, that was absurd... He is only five. He has no way of knowing how broken I was, or would be if I went back. To me, it is better for him to have a transsexual parent than no parent at all. Because, surely, if I were forced back into being male I would be catatonic with depression. I've had a taste of happiness finally, and that makes me better able to be a functioning parent.

Still, it makes me sad. If only it were as simple as cutting all my hair off, and just being a daddy... I know that in time he will better understand. For now, I suppose that I will just have to be the best Ali I can, and show him that there is no one on this planet that I love more than him.

Not The Momma...

I love my son more than anything. I do so much to try and keep him on a path to being a happy young person. This includes being the "Bad Cop" when the situation calls for it... This means that when he doesn't get his way he hates me. Or I'm not his parent. Or he's not my son. That is all fine because I know he's upset and doesn't mean it.

What gets to me, is when he is totally fine and in a good mood, yet he insists I'm not his mother. He says his mom is his favourite. That I'm just his "Ali". That he doesn't care what I think or feel. I never even asked him to call me mom. In fact, it was my idea that he call me Ali. I will admit that I hoped he would want to call me mom, and that it would be okay with his mom. So I guess I can't really complain...

It just hurts to know that my own child cares so little for me. It also hurts that his mother doesn't ever help with the Bad Cop role. I don't always want to be the one to tell him he can't have a toy everytime we go to the store...