4/27/2021 0 Comments April 27th, 2021Isolation. It's something you don't really understand that you're experiencing until you're not isolated anymore. I always knew that I was isolated (and sheltered) to an extent growing up, but I didn't know how isolated I was. Growing up, the few friendships I had were superficial. I didn't recognize that at the time, especially with my long-time childhood best friend, Ishmael (not his real name. Don't want him to be possibly doxxed). I cared for him greatly, and still do care for him, despite not being in contact anymore. I miss the guy if I'm being completely honest, but that's for another long overdue post another day. Thing is though, I couldn't let him get close to me. I couldn't let him know that I was really a girl. It was something constantly on my mind as I hung out and talked with him and pretended to be a cis-gender male who viewed myself as a higher being than women. I set myself to trying to prove my masculinity around him and other friends I made. Degrade women (because, maybe, if you degrade women, that will mean I stop identifying as one, at least, I hoped. Wow was I an idiot.), play tackle football at church with no pads or helmets because "it's manly." All those hours of playing first person shooters and Super Smash Bros. Brawl. Those hours of trying to convince myself that I wanted to be a husband to fit in with the others assigned male at birth (and all the while trying to shove back the thought that if I were to ever marry I would much rather be the wife). All this led to isolation as a child. I had to keep up a wall to keep from worse abuse, bullying, and just to fit in at all. I wasn't close to anyone. No one truly knew much about me. In fact, I usually made stuff up to keep up the charade of being a cis-gender male. If I was struggling with anything, I had no one to go to for anything. I had no one I could be honest with, no one I could be anything more than superficial with. It didn't help that I was being abused at home. My parents are (and were) quite respected. My family appeared to be perfect to everyone. I couldn't tell anyone about the abuse I was recieving. Who would believe me? Plus, if my parents found out, things might get worse. It isolated me even more, having to not only hide my identity, but my home life as well.
My family eventually moved from Ohio to Indiana (August 2013). The first few years I was even more isolated. This was when I finally discovered that I was trans, my parents found out, and I started conversion therapy. During this time I had no friends. Mind you, I have always been homeschooled. Never been a part of a formal schooling setting. My family wasn't going to church, I was homeschooled in a small town, I had no one to talk to even superficially. I remember at one point me and my sisters didn't even leave our property for several months. That's how isolated I became. It only got worse during conversion therapy, where my walls were built higher, I wanted nothing to do with society, and drove straight into the deepest denial I could muster of my trans identity. I tried my best to be a "manly man" and love being a man. I said the most horrible things I could muster about the LGBT community in hopes that if I could be vile towards my own community I would just stop being trans. When that didn't work I took on misogynistic views in hopes it would make me proud of being a man. I was constantly "praying the trans sway." So many hours spent feverishly asking God to make me a cis-gender man. These things only made me more miserable. My dysphoria rose, I started feeling touch starved, I became suicidal, and at one point was demonically oppressed. I nearly drowned twice in the span of three days, and never swam again (summer of 2014 or 2015, can't remember exactly). In the meantime, the abuse I was recieving kept steadily getting worse and I was going through puberty, an already rough time with the added problem of being trans. I was isolated. I was miserable, struggling, and had no one to turn to for help. I had started internalizing the message from parents, pastors, and other Christians that I was a sub-human monster who was nothing more than a vessel prepared for God's wrath destined for hell just because I identified as a woman. I felt isolated from not only humanity, but God. Now I'm an adult. I'm isolated from my church, having to hide my identity from a non-affirming church that regularly preaches how LGBT people are sinful for being LGBT, while sitting there in the audience wanting to kill myself because of how strong my dysphoria is, viewing myself as a hell-bound sub-human monster. I had no friends. I had no real relationship with anyone in my family. I wasn't talking to God much. I felt completely alone. I believed that I deserved it. Because I was trans, this is what I got. Why should I have a single good thing if I'm trans, a disgusting sub-human pervert? Sometime during all this I got my first job at Lifeway Christian Bookstores. The official bookstore of the Southern Baptist Convention. A decidedly anti-LGBT denomination, and a denomination I very much disagreed with theologically (especially it's strong belief in Calvinism), and only disagree with more as time goes on. While there I met a few people who would change my life. (None of the names I will list are their real names to help protect identities) I had four co-workers in particular who changed me in different ways. Samuel, Danielle, Josephine (who we will refer to as "Jo" from here out), and Amber. Samuel was the only one I hit it off with early on. He knew how to bring a smile to my face and get me to laugh and have a good time. Let me tell you, that was no small feat at the time. I was quite emotionally dead by this time, and suicidal, so being around someone who could bring me to life, so to speak, was almost magical and quite good for me. It was also delightful to be able to actually question theology that was considered orthodox in the Christian church around him. I was used to having to keep my doubts and theological challenges to myself. That, and listening to Joel Osteen sermons to try and find heresy will always be a blast. One last recollection I may: he is why I will always love "Surrounded (Fight My Battles)" by Michael W. Smith. While we don't speak much anymore, still absolutely love the guy and when I think about him, pray. It's been amazing to hear about his ministry and how God is using him. A true man of God that I am glad to have gotten to know. I was scared of Danielle at first. She was the third in command at the store, and I didn't think she liked me. I did whatever I could to stay away from her. Then, she got pregnant, I got convinced that she liked me even less (must have heard me laughing at some jokes aimed towards her. Ones that I will never admit laughing to). Then she went on maternity leave, right as the holidays were picking up full steam (I swear she purposely got pregnant when she did just to avoid the holiday crowds), and came back as the store was about to close and therefore go into store-wide clearance sales. While she had been gone, I had been promoted to a keyholder position (didn't really want it, but I didn't trust anyone else in the store to do well as keyholder, so I begrudgingly took it), and was tasked with helping getting her re-acquainted with keyholder duties. This is when I discovered that she in fact, did not hate me. After this realization, we started hitting it off, and I eventually came out to her as trans. One of the first people I ever came out to. I sucked at coming out at the time. I told her I needed prayer (I didn't actually think I needed prayer, due to how I believed I was destined to hell, but at the time I couldn't think of another way to start a coming out discussion), and awkwardly told her I was trans. At this time, my dysphoria was seriously ramping up. It had gotten so bad I had no choice but to come out. I thought, that since it was a Christian store, everyone would hate me for it, and I would end up killing myself over the rejection. But, on the other hand, I would kill myself if I didn't come out, so I decided to take the chance that maybe they wouldn't reject me, because as I saw it, I was probably killing myself no matter what. Anyway, when I finally told her, she said "alright, thanks for trusting me." I was stunned. All my life I had been rejected or "accepted" but treated as an "other" after coming out. Just having someone accept it and be cool with it was beyond shocking and I genuinely couldn't believe that happened. I spent the next few days trying to come up with any reason to try and ask her why because it was so unbelievable to me. Anyway, the store eventually closed, and we still sorta, kinda keep in touch today. I've been to her church a few times and seen her husband's band (links to his band's music below) play in (small) churches and a backyard concert a few times. So, we still see each other once in a blue moon. But yeah, she changed my life. Because of her, I am still alive. If she had reacted any differently, almost certainly, I would have been six feet under years ago. Then there's Josephine, a ray of sunshine. She annoyed the hell out of me. Heck, she sometimes angered me. She was always too happy, too joyful, and was too spiritually strong. I hated her for it sometimes, and other times I was merely highly annoyed by it. When you're suicidal, and have virtually no relationship with God because you have been lied to about how your gender identity is a sin, seeing someone who clearly was strong in the spirit and was clearly bearing fruit was beyond angering. Today I have the wisdom to recognize that it showed just how far from God I truly was. The fact that I could hate someone just because they were quite filled with the spirit and it showed just by being around them, much less talking to them. I was far from God. Quite far. But yes, she is one of the few people that I could immediately tell that there was something different about. Just the way she carried herself, her constant smile on her face, the joy she exuded. It was sickening. At least at the time. Now, it's goals. Now I see her as an example of how I should be. Someone who you can tell, just by looking at me, that something is different. Someone others hate for being joyful and so obviously producing the fruits of the spirit. Just a few days ago I was looking at the fruits of the spirit, and realized how, even if I were to be quite generous to myself, I was far, far away from being fruitful. So, I am quite a long way from really producing fruit. I guess I am early in my spiritual journey, having only gotten back in good terms with God about a year ago, so maybe in a year it will be a different story. We'll see. Then, there's Amber. She's also one of the first people I came out to and another person I could tell was different just by looking at her. She was the definition of sweet. At my church, there was a group of little old ladies who just by looking would stunned weren't dead yet, but also, just by looking could tell were women of God. Their aura was nothing but pure joy and love. In fact, they exuded so much love and joy I almost can't believe that they were human. They were always serving others, preparing for fellowship time, preparing Wednesday night potlucks (if there is one thing I miss about being part of a church, it's eating meals together. You really got to know others), helping in the nursery (I still remember one of them handing me a cup of cheerios while in the nursery. Without a doubt it's my earliest memory), and other things. Amber is one of those little old ladies, but young. What I'm saying is, when she's old and little, she will be remembered just as fondly as those little old ladies at my childhood church. I loved Amber to death for it. Especially after coming out to her. She was fully on board and helped me. She took me on my first shopping trip for women's clothing. Still have the full outfit I bought and still love it. She's the first I ever presented as a woman in front of. She pushed me greatly to improve myself and embrace my identity, which helped me get into a slightly more healthy spot. Even though we haven't talked in years, I still love her to death for how loving she was and her support and pushing me to truly accept my identity. I wouldn't be here today without her. After the store closed I went several months without a job. Eventually, I got two. One at my local library and one at a Salvation Army Thrift Store. From both jobs people who were important to helping me feel less isolated were found. Their names are Heather (this is her real name. She runs a blog, and actually interviewed me on it, a link to the blog will be at the end of the article), Mel, and Morgan, and Marissa (the last three names are not their real names, for privacy reasons, of course). I will start with Heather. Heather was one of my early coming outs. At this point I had the experience of coming out to almost everyone at the bookstore except for the manager, assistant manager, and a fellow keyholder who we will call "Graham" who was southern baptist and I often argued with over theology. She was accepting right off the bat. This helped give me confidence to out myself to everyone who worked on the sales floor (I didn't come out to the backroom workers). While Heather and I weren't that much of friends while I worked there, after I left we talked a lot more. We even went to a local mall last summer and hung out, talked, she helped me figure out women's fashion, and ate at a restaurant called Thai Kitchen (and someone I knew who decided to visit the mall that day saw me and her together and thought we were boyfriend and girlfriend and told my family. I wasn't supposed to be there, I had lied and told my family that I had picked up an extra shift at work, so believe me, I had a lot of lies to make up while on the way home, and they actually all worked, surprisingly). It was the first time as an adult I actually got to "hang out" with a friend really. It was amazing. I felt alive, as scared as I was to be doing it. She and I talk somewhat regularly. I have been working on being more open and trying to contact her more regularly, because believe me, I suck at keeping in contact and being a friend isn't something that's natural to me. So, it's a lot of work for me, but it's been well worth it, building this relationship with someone who accepted me early on and helped me out in soany ways, such as giving me some clothes while I was homeless. I know you're going to see this Heather, and I just want you to know that I could never thank you enough or do enough to repay what you have done for me. Thank you. Love you girl. Mel and Marissa I will discuss together because I haven't spent the most amount of time with them, but they still impacted my life in amazing ways and really helped end my feelings of isolation (plus, I'm running out of steam. I keep having to take several hour breaks because of how long this is taking to write. Seriously, it's been over two hours now writing this article, I can't keep up this writing energy on one article for much longer). Mel was the first person who really helped me stop feeling isolated. Because of her I stopped seeing myself as sub-human. She treated me with so much respect, always had an open ear. I wouldn't be alive without her. Marissa showed up later at my library stint. She's the only one on this list who started a relationship with me only after I started transitioning. She was immediately supportive. She took me out several times to find women's clothing. She allowed me to have stuff sent to her house while homeless. She was always encouraging me to fully embrace my identity, to start presenting at work, and to fully embrace my femininity. The thing that most impacted me was when I finally lost it. I was done being abused. I had to leave. I had no other choice. She sat there, held me, and called the YWCA and gave me the strength to talk to them so I could leave my parents. God only knows what would have happened to me if she hadn't gotten me to call the YWCA. I thank her sincerely and because of that alone there is a debt I could never repay. Finally, there's Mel. I came out to her at the library about a month before I called the clinic to set up an appointment to begin transitioning. She let me know that if I ever needed anyone to talk to, she was there for me. Of course I didn't message her. I made her message me a month later, a few days before Christmas to see how I was doing. Then the floodgates began opening. Slowly, but I did begin to open up to her. Finally, it was time to drive up an hour and a half to the informed consent clinic to begin transitioning. She drove me up to the clinic. She was there to support me. It was so needed. Especially at the end walking out knowing that my prescription was waiting for me at Walmart. I did a little dance in her passenger seat and struggled to calm down. She was there and let me celebrate. I got to share the joy with someone else. It was so needed and did me much good. Even after that, she's been there providing much needed advice, prayer, and emotional support while transitioning, losing jobs, and being homeless. She's been a major source of strength. So many times when I thought I couldn't go any more, and she would be there or push me to keep on. She was so needed, and God had her and I meet at just the right time. I thank God for her. She's been a major blessing in so many ways. For her, I couldn't even imagine trying to repay what she's done for me. In fact, I often feel like a leech to be honest. So, I pray for them, for many blessings and for them to prosper in many ways. Financially, emotionally, with friends, marriage, and family, etc. I pray for health, and for wisdom for raising her two kids. I pray for other things as well, simply because I cannot even begin to imagine what I could do to even begin repayment. She may be the biggest reason why I don't feel isolated anymore, at least, in real life. Then, there's my friend Esther (not her real name for privacy reasons). I met her through Discord. We have never met in real life. She lives in Oklahoma, I live in Ft. Wayne, IN. That said, I love her dearly. I love her as a sister. She is also a Christian trans woman. She is a few years younger, but started transitioning a few months before I did. We both come from conservative families who weren't accepting at first. We're both oddballs who knew we were trans from our earliest days, and never had many friends and the ones we did have were superficial. We both were very isolated. We started hitting it off. First through Discord, then over Snapchat, then Signal, then texting, now a mixture of texting and Signal. I never knew how much I needed to truly be understood. To have someone else understand being trans in a conservative social circle. To have dysphoria over many of the same things, to have similar experiences, etc. Two trannies who started off in conservative families and ended up being Marxist Christians who believe every heretical view about Christianity there is (I'm kidding. We don't, but evangelicals would think we do). It's nice not having to educate someone on my struggles as a trans person, knowing someone who just gets it. Who understands my struggles as a trans woman. I love my cis-gender friends, but man, it can be exhausting having to educate them sometimes on how I'm struggling due to being trans or trans issues in general. It's so beyond freeing and wonderful to know someone who just gets it. So many times I hide things from cis-gender friends because they just don't "get it." I don't have to from Esther. She understands. Plus, through her I have learned how to be a better friend and how to build a real relationship. One where I truly, genuinely care about her. One where she and I will message each other over the small struggles and victories as well as the big ones. I feel a closeness that I never felt before, and likely never will. I'm so beyond thankful for God letting me meet her. I needed her quite terribly, even if I didn't know it, and she was the first one who really, truly helped me feel less isolated. Anyway, as you can see, I am no stranger to isolation. It was rough growing up. That said, in some ways, I am thankful for it. It made me who I am today. I don't take friendships or any kind of relationship for granted. It's something I deeply cherish because I can remember a time without them. I am so thankful for that time of total isolation being over. God knew who to introduce in my life at the right times. For that, I will be eternally grateful. Thank you Lord. Danielle's husbands' band "Crimson Letters": https://open.spotify.com/artist/7l6nmAgjrvCJuGDoB4t9IB Heather's Blog: https://expresscreativity730075915.wordpress.com/
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4/25/2021 0 Comments April 25th, 2021Something I have been thinking about a lot is the imagery of Jesus being the groom, and the church being the bride. I'm going to be honest. I don't get it. I really don't understand how it's supposed to be impactful, at least for me. So many images in the Bible have been hard for me, the main one having been God being my father. My earthly father is an abusive man. He has harmed me so greatly, so it has been a struggle to see God as good if He's my father, or to even see Him as a father at all, due to my negative imagery of fatherhood. That said, it's something that has gotten easier for me to accept, because, well, at least I do have a dad, so while it can be hard for me to accept (mostly is hard), I can do it because I can relate in some way. That said, it's different with the marriage imagery. I'm not married. The chances of me getting married are very slim. It's not something I'm all that interested in. So, as someone who does consider herself a confirmed bachelorette, how am I supposed to get anything out of this metaphor, when marriage is something I am not even looking for? Like, I am pretty happy being single. This imagery does absolutely nothing for me, of anything it could be a repelling image. The reason I say that is because I am happy being single. Marriage is something I am straight up not interested in, and yet, I am told that being a Christian is basically in some metaphorical way a marriage, something I don't really want? Like, what am I supposed to do with this? How is this supposed to get me excited in any way? How is this supposed to spur me on or encourage me or whatever? I recognize that most people get married, but, honestly, when I read the Bible, I find myself not really being able to relate to a lot, to be honest. The only things I ever relate to are the small things. The psalms of David calling for deliverance. Job's mourning. The nihilism of Solomon in Ecclesiastes. I relate to the Eunuchs living during the time of Isaiah and the oppression they experienced, not being allowed to join the others in worshipping God because they lived a gender-variant life that was unjustly considered to be immoral. I relate to Jeremiah's struggles to stay faithful to God, how terrified Esther felt to reveal who she really was, and other things like that. I don't relate much to seeing God as a father. It's hard for me, I'm getting better, but having an abusive earthly has made that so hard. I don't relate to the marriage metaphor for the church. If I am being honest, I don't feel any connection to the church being one body image either. Maybe, for a short time as a kid I felt connected to the rest of the church, as if we were one body. But, after realizing I am trans, that feeling of being connected has gone away. I feel like a single cell that was cast off. Being part of a body is not an image I can relate to. I'm simply not allowed to be a part of the body. So, what I am saying is, I don't relate to these big metaphors and images generally used by Christians to explain what it's like being a Christian. I just don't. Kinda makes me feel like I'm a shitty Christian. I mean, I absolutely am a shitty Christian, but not being able to relate to something that seemingly just about everyone else relates to and embraces makes me feel even lesser of a Christian than I already do. The only thing I can relate to are the small things, like the stuff listed earlier.
While I'm already confessing things, I might as well add this: I don't really trust cis-gender Christians. Mostly, because of the transphobia that runs rampant among Christians, but it's even more than that. In affirming circles I have found that cis allies generally have no idea how to actually support trans people. I find myself constantly having to educate allies on trans issues and how to be supportive. It's beyond exhausting, especially if you're suffering from some trans-related issue, and you really just need support right away. Honestly, I just don't bring up stuff about what trans-related thing I am struggling with unless it's so absolutely overbearing that I have no choice but to open up about it, because being everyone's educator on not only that issue, but also how to be supportive, when you need the support is just more trouble than it's worth. Honestly, a lot of this helped lead to a time where for a few weeks I struggled with genuine hatred towards all cis-gender people. I literally hated anyone who was cis-gender just for being cis-gender because of how much I have been hurt and how much I have to hide. While I am long over that phase, and it didn't last more than a few weeks, I still don't trust. I'm tired of having to be the world's educator, especially when I am suffering. It's just easier to just suffer in silence, because at least you aren't just sitting there attempting to explain something that a cis-gender person could never understand and not know how to respond to. I guess that's the worst part. Knowing that cis-gender people, who are just about everybody who lives on this Earth could never relate to most of my problems. It just doesn't feel worth it to open up at all. This has made it harder for me to even want to go to church. If I am going to be part of a church, I want to be truly part of it. I love serving others, I always have. That is pretty much all I have ever done, because, the church never helped me back. When I was suffering the most, I had no one to turn to. In fact, the few Christians I knew were actively making my life worse. I don't trust cis-gender Christians very much. More harm than good has happened to me because of cis-gender Christians. Almost all of my healing has come from other trans Christians. I guess I just don't want to be constantly having to pour out my heart and soul serving others, but not being helped back, but I guess that's also super selfish and greedy. I guess it's probably pretty despicable of me to want to be helped by the church at all, if I think about it. I guess if God wanted me to be anything more than the world's servant and a lone spiritual warrior, He wouldn't have made me trans. 4/20/2021 0 Comments April 20th, 2021I have been thinking a lot about the things that serve as a reminder that this earth is not my home, but, rather Heaven. There have been in particular two things that I have really been thinking about that serve as reminders of this. The first thing is my body. As long as I can remember I knew I was a girl. I couldn't stand my male body. I remember literally almost cutting off my penis as a toddler. Nothing traumatized me more than haircuts (sadly, that's more serious than it is a joke). Now, I have been transitioning for over a year. I am living openly as a woman. But, it still isn't a body that was born as female. My bone structure isn't that of a female. I don't have a uterus. I don't naturally have softer skin. If I stop taking estrogen I will revert back to looking male. So, this body isn't, and never will be anything like I wish it was. Because of that, I will forever live with gender dysphoria. Because of that, the only thing I really have to look forward to is that perfect resurrection body. I know that this statement I make will probably the most controversial statement I will ever make, one that even many, if not most, other trans people will vehemently disagree with, so keep in mind, this is one fringe lunatics belief: I strongly believe that my resurrection body will be female. We know the resurrection body is a restoration. Heck, Heaven itself is restoration, and even more so, it undoes all the bad in our lives. It undoes all the pain. It makes everything right. So, if I always identified as female, only really spiritually grew once I started living as one, and it's what allowed physical life, I see no reason not to believe that that will be the body I recieve in Heaven. I cannot wait for that. Once again, I know just about everyone will disagree with my belief, including other trans people, and some may have clicked off this article right after reading that seeing me as nothing more than a heretic, but it's something that gives me hope. It's one of the things that helps serve as a reminder that this earth is not my home.
The other thing is family. While my family has finally accepted me, things aren't ideal. I still have to keep an arms length away from my parents due to their controlling, abusive nature. I don't really have a chance to get close to my younger sisters. One is at college and has a boyfriend, so that time of building a relationship is gone forever with her. The youngest one is only interested in growing close to her friends, which I understand, considering how abusive our parents are. So, all that to say, I will never either be close or be fully open with anyone in my family. A lot of people have talked about family not being who you are born to, but who you choose. While it's a nice sentiment and one that I see is true for some people, and I am glad for others, it has most certainly not been true in my life, and not for a lack of trying. I definitely tried that. It just never worked. So, while I am glad to see that it's worked out for many others, I have learned to accept that it just won't be true for me. Then, let's add the fact that I just don't have a place among other Christians. I don't really have a chance to be part of the body of God here on earth, so I can't even be a part of my spiritual family here on earth. It helps make Heaven that much more exciting. In Heaven, I will finally, truly, be part of a family, a perfect one. It will be so wonderful. That is another thing that helps keep my eyes on Heaven instead of Earth. The knowledge that I don't really have a family here, but do up there. Anyway, if you ever need help keeping your eyes focused on your eternal home, I encourage you to focus on what you're lacking and have never had fulfilled. Use that to focus on our true home. 4/12/2021 0 Comments April 12th, 2021I've got a lot on my mind as of late. Like how I really don't trust God at all. I have really started realizing that I straight up don't trust God. When I am stressed out, depressed, in trouble, or whatever, God is the last person I go to. When I need help, God is my last resort. God is who I turn to when I run out of every other option. I say that as if I have any option that's not God. Nothing happens apart from God. God is the only reason I'm breathing right now. He's the only reason I can type these words out onto my phone. If God wanted, he could take away the ability to use my fingers. God is in control of everything. God is in all reality the only option of who to run to when things go bad. He is the one I should be running to first. He created me. He's the only one who truly loves me. Why He ever would even want to love me I can't even imagine, I mean, He knows better than anyone how fucked up I am. He knows about my cyber-bullying. How I used to go out of my way to antagonize people, especially those in authority over me as a kid. He knows how much of a misogynist I was. He knows the horrible things I said online about my own community because I thought that repressing was a good idea. He knows how I don't trust Him. He sees all the broken promises, the times I stole things, my habitual lying, the times I almost murdered someone because of hatred in my heart. He knows. Yet, He loves me, and died for me. Somehow, I don't see this as cause to run to Him first. He's my perfect father. He's the only one who loves me completely and accurately, and I run away from Him. I keep to myself. I foolishly hide everything, as if God doesn't know. I pretend to myself that no one knows, despite the fact that God absolutely knows. I keep to myself when things go south, because at the end, I don't really trust anyone. I actually feel horrible about it. I have amazing friends who I know I can trust, and care about me, yet, I don't open up to them. I hide. It's not their fault. It's just natural to me at this point. After being abused literally almost all my life, having to hide my trans identity for so long, and not having had anyone I could trust for almost as long, I guess it's just an unconscious defense mechanism now. I don't tell anyone anything until I absolutely have to. Then, when I do tell, I generally only tell them certain things, often giving different aspects to different people. The reason for this is because I unconsciously present different aspects of myself to different people and hide other aspects from them. For instance, I hide certain things from one friend that I am completely open about with one friend and vice versa. I am never completely open with anyone unless I absolutely have to be. I know that's wrong. It's just so hard to break out of. I'm so used to hiding everything, because I had to so I could survive being abused. I had to hide my true self from everyone because I knew I wouldn't be accepted. My dad always told me that ones earthly relationships reflect your relationship with God. As I get older I see how true that really is. I don't trust people here on earth due to a lifetime of abuse and hiding my identity. So, I don't trust God, the one person who deserves my trust more than anyone. Yet, I always go to Him last. First I hide, then I might tell a few people, and finally when it gets worse, I go to God. I need to trust God more. I need to trust my friends and others who care about me more. My distrust isn't fair to my extended family, friends, or God. They have done nothing to deserve it. Yet, I punish them with it anyway. Lord, I ask for forgiveness. Please help me to trust in you more. You have done everything to earn my trust. More than enough. You created me and love me despite how despicable I am. I can think of all the times you have provided right now. Moments of you pulling through are rushing through my head at this moment. Providing me with money at the shelter. Allowing me to transition. Giving me friends when I needed them the most. So many things. Forgive me for my lack of faith and trust Lord, though I do not deserve it. Amen.
4/5/2021 0 Comments April 05th, 2021Sometimes I wonder what it's like to be part of the body. I wonder what it's like to be part of the church. I wonder what it's like to be able to consider other Christians that you fellowship with "family." I never have had that experience. I grew up in church, but, I was never truly a part of those churches. Oh, don't get me wrong, as I got older I became quite involved in the church that I attended back when I lived in Toledo, Ohio, but I never really was truly a part of it. I never considered the church to be my family. A lot of that definitely had to do with how much back-stabbing and internal politics there was that I noticed as a child, and never having had got along with certain people who were quite powerful in the church (there were other things, but it's better for me not to go further down memory lane in regards to this). Then my family moved to Indiana, and church hopped (assuming we even were attempting to go to church) for a few years. Finally we found a church just bordering downtown in Ft. Wayne, Indiana. By this time I knew that I was trans, and this church has always been very vocally anti-LGBT. I DEFINITELY didn't feel at home there, in fact, I was downright scared. I couldn't wait to leave that church. Now, I have. I also don't have a church to replace it with. Haven't been to church in many months at this point. Can't even remember the last church I went to. The thing is, I see how much so many love their church. They love their church family and being involved in the church. They truly see the other members as family and lean on them and grow. I never had that experience growing up. I don't have any nostalgia for the church. Honestly, after such negative experiences in the church my whole life, I can't imagine being a part of a church and loving it. I can't imagine trusting a fellowship of believers with anything in regards to me. If I am being honest, I generally don't trust other Christians. If I hear you're a Christian, I am on guard. It takes me a long time to warm up to you, unless I have a reason to not be on my guard. Basically, LGBT Christians are the only group that I don't feel all that guarded talking to. I guess if I'm being honest, I just don't trust cishet Christians. Especially conservative ones. It takes a long time for a cishet Christian (the few I am in contact with, basically, outside of my immediate family, just two) to gain my trust. I have been hurt too many times.
Honestly, the very idea that I could ever fit into a church, not be an outsider is preposterous to me. I constantly find myself thinking that if I wasn't able to fit into any of the churches I attended for the first 21 years of my life, why should I now? Also, because of the fact that for the most part, my spiritual growth has come with me being alone (there were times when people helped me grow, including at times people in whatever church I was a part of), I kinda don't want to go to church. I feel pride in the fact that most of my spiritual growth has come from me by myself rather than with being alongside other believers. I feel, because of my pride that I can forever go it alone. I don't see a need to be part of a church when I feel that I have done "well enough" up until now. But still, I feel inside my core, my spirit a desire to be part of a fellowship of believers. That said, I would probably have to leave this city to be able to go to a church. I have been to so many churches here, and found nothing that I could be a part of and be accepted, without attending a liturgical church (I don't do liturgical churches. Can't stand that kind of church, personally, though I understand why some people love liturgical churches). I guess it just fits into my longing to be part of a community, to be part of a family, two desires I probably won't go out of my way to fulfill. I kinda like being a hermit. I mean, it's comfortable. Don't get me wrong, in the depth of my soul I desire for more, but I don't have enough motivation to actually change and not be a hermit. Back in late 2019, I was starting to break out of my shell. I was trying to go out and do things with friends. I was trying to find a church. I was trying to find a community. Then COVID hit. If I'm being honest, I often find myself thinking "if God wanted for me to stop being a hermit he wouldn't have allowed COVID to happen." I kinda allow myself to view COVID as a justification for not getting out there, trying to be a part of a church or community, or whatever. It just feels like confirmation of the life path I was already headed down, which is, to be a hermit. I don't feel much motivation to get out anymore. At least, most of the time. I guess I have mostly given up on community. I just feel as if my time to be part of one is up. I have missed my chance. I'm too old now. If I wanted to be part a community or church, it would have been before COVID. Now, I'm just set on my way to hermithood. I'm older, more set in my ways, less interested than ever before in moving out of my comfort zone, more cynical, and older. If I wanted to be part of any of these things, I would have been a part as a kid. I have no experience being part of a community. Being part of a church family. It just feels too late to become part of any of them. I mean, what's it like to have friends to just hang out with? Don't really know. It's something I have done so rarely. What's it like to feel safe at church and be able to rely on your Christian brothers and sisters? Being able to grow with them, serve each other, and just be there there for each other? I have spent my whole life seeing others do that for each other. Heck, I have spent much of my life serving others. But, when I needed help, I couldn't go to anyone. When I was a kid, it was for obvious reasons, I was just a kid. I couldn't ask anyone for help unless I absolutely had to, no way out of it otherwise. As an adult, because I couldn't be part of the family because of my trans identity. Most of the help I have needed is in regards to the abuse I recieved and my trans identity. I couldn't open up about those things in those churches. They weren't trans accepting and my parents also were there in those churches, and no one would ever believe what my parents did and we're doing to me. So, I have been stuck watching other Christians be there for each other, watching them love one another, knowing that I could serve them, but it could never be reciprocated. I had to keep silent about myself. I wasn't part of the family. I was an "other." I was someone allowed to interact with the family of believers, but not allowed to be part of it. I wanted so much more. When I was at my lowest, I had to help myself. I had no one to turn to for wisdom, prayer, or anything. I had to go to church, not being allowed to be honest about the abuse I was receiving and my gender dysphoria. I had to sit there as people poured praise on my parents, and I had to sit there and agree with them, and talk about how great my parents were while in my head I was thinking about how they had just abused me or one of my sisters. It left a horrible taste in my mouth. Then, I had to endure sermons preaching against the LGBT community, all the while I was sitting there in the audience struggling with suicidal thoughts because of my dysphoria, sinking further into shame, and feeling more and more subhuman. If I am honest, I feel so much resentment towards my fellow Christians. I guess that may be one of the biggest factors towards not wanting to be a part of a church. At my lowest, I was kicked down by the church. I don't feel that I can trust other Christians because of that. When I needed help the most, I had to hide my problems just so that things didn't get worse by exposing the abuse or my trans identity. I had to deal with it all alone. And I feel a twisted sort of pride over that. The fact that I did this mostly on my own, just meeting a few people at the very end before transitioning and leaving my parents who helped me over the finish line because otherwise I genuinely would have killed myself. To me, after seeing the love for each other, but never being a part of that family, that serving, loving one another that I have seen at churches, I genuinely cannot imagine being part of that. That kind of stuff is for others. Not me. I'm too different. They weren't there for me in the past, in fact, made things worse, and so why should I give the church another chance? It had 21 years, almost 22 years to not make my life worse. To treat me as human, not dehumanize me from the pulpit, to not make me worship my abusers, why the fuck should I want to be part of this institution? Now I just feel angry. I was hurting, and yet, I was expected to repeatedly stab myself and make it worse. I feel anger, resentment, and a sense of resignment. I just feel resigned to it all. The church is broken and I don't see how I could ever be a part of the broader church. I've always gone it alone, so why not continue? It's better than worshipping my abusers. I'd rather feel alone than that kind of hurt ever again. I guess I don't know what to do, or what to feel. I guess I'm just lost. Nothing makes sense to me. |
AuthorHi! I'm Anna, a currently transitioning transgender woman! I started my blog "Ramblings of a Trans Woman" as therapy for gender and identity issues and abuse from my parents and church. Hopefully, someone else out there can get something from this. If you want to talk, just get in contact with me, there's plenty of ways how and we'll discuss the best way to talk! Archives
June 2022
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