Today I went to an old disused church for my A Level coursework. The Church was built in the 12th century, and partially demolished in 1852 when the new bigger church was built near by.
I need to share my feelings over the experience. I saw an old grave headstone dating from 1765 for a William Phelps who passed away aged 96. His headstone said that he was gone to join his late beloved wife Abigail and son Luke. Nothing unusual there you might think, but the headstone beside William’s was for Abigail and Luke. She passed away aged just 21, 3 months after burying Luke aged just 18 months.
Seeing these graves affected me in ways I could never have imagined, and I cant imagine what was worse for William – losing his wife and young son so close together, or living so long without them. From the wording on his headstone it seems as though William never got over his devastating loss, never remarried and spent his life waiting for the day he would rejoin his family.
It breaks my heart to think of Abigail, 21 and burying her baby, and William, still a young man burying his wife and child, living a long life – even by todays standards – without them. Baby Luke died younger than my own son is now. Suddenly I feel so grateful that he is happy and healthy, and I find myself recommitting to being the best parent I can be and to spend my life devoted to making him happy.
I live on the ground floor of a 3 storey block of flats, a woman on the top floor has an issue with me as a disabled person. “Cripple” “freak” and “spastic” are her usual insults. She regularly takes my rubbish from the wheelie bins and scatters it about in the hope that I will be evicted so “normal” people dont need to be around me. I have to wonder if my trans status would mean I would be in danger from not just her but others around here who think the same way. Will I get beaten, attacked, murdered? I have thought hard about how much to let on to my neighbours and other members of the local community, how much they will notice with my transition, but havent really given any thought to my safety in my quest for happiness and discovery of the true me. Yet as her torment worsens over my disability I have to face issues of my safety regarding my trans status. I admit that in the bigoted view of some people I’m not “normal” – disabled, in the wrong body…
How am I to handle this?
Where do I start?
I’m hoping at the next Trans meeting some of the women there have faced similar hate from others to help guide me through.
In the mean time I am now too scared of the abuse I get that I dont go outside if I can help it. Living like this stinks but what can I do?
Oh well, hope she will meet her match soon… I dont feel I should have to continually defend who I am.. One day….
I spent this past weekend staying in London for the convention. I figured that I could just be myself not being around anyone that I know, and it was wonderful! It was so liberating to just be myself. I now know that I pass publicly, which allowed me to use the gents and be introduced to people as Steve, no make believe, no pretense.
I was referred to as “sir” twice, called a gentleman, and a lovely woman told her kids that if they didnt sit still the man – me – would tell them off!
I felt so good being myself that coming home is all the more upsetting, having to put the mask on again and be someone else. Hopefully it wont be long and I can be open, throw away the mask for good.