So, at least I'm writing. I'm typing something. My index finger is healing to the point I can type with it now. I'm on my way to coming out to my mom, and will be by monday. I'm excited and happy about that, in a sort of nervous tick way, wondering what will go through her mind, guessing the response she will show, wondering how long it will take before she calls me, and whether it will be in shock, in disbelief, in anger, or in calm understanding. (At this point, my index finger is hurting again, so I will stop using it. In many ways I have forgotten how anyway.)
What will we talk about? What questions will she ask? I considered calling Jacob, but I know that zhir mom is different from mine. What would she be thinking as she reads at the computer, plowing through my email in her new office. At least she may understand my need to be verbose: she is a librarian, a reader, a friend to the written word. The length will not bother her.
When I quit Susans.org, it was with the intent to still stay active with the people I once knew there. The new community is wonderful, non authoritarian, good people, MY people, as diverse as people can be, and as lovable as people should be. I even made up with one member, which surprises me. I am often surprised how people can come back to talk to me after I've barreled my way through an argument, after I've realized my stupidity and who I've wronged (because I hate wronging people as much as I hate being wrong), and apologize embarrassingly, because I know I must, I know I'm in fault, I hate that wrongness that comes with leaving myself the proud one, the non-guilty party, even though I am as guilty as the rest. I am just as surprised that people like me in the first place, that I am accepted, that I am loved, that I am succeeding socially not because I learned the tricks, what people want to see and hear, but because I just lay myself bare, blunt and opinionated, without tact, blundering through conversation, rambling along usually not knowing where I am going with a thought. For some reason, these people either suffer me, they pretend to be okay with my bad manners, or, weirdly, they actually LIKE me this way. Likewise, people think my writing is interesting, when I look at it, see the long runon sentences, the massive number of commas (QED), and think, who would want to ever read this but me?
Back to Susans.org...I quit there because I can't stand authoritarians. Its an interesting quality of the Internet to breed power hungry individuals who otherwise would not be bent on power. Perhaps this is because they are rather powerless in their everyday lives, and being the monarch of a forum, with absolute power to rule as they see fit, and a band of loyal subjects, newbies and the easily commanded, to hold court over, judge, jury, and banninator. How could those who are in power possibly do wrong? Do they not always claim they are there for the safety of their slav..ehem, subjects? (While in the back of your mind something has died because you submitted, an ape submitted to the thoughts and ideas of another. What ever happened to throwing feces?) What would the people of the Enlightenment think of how we have squandered our personal creativity for “temporary safety” even as we have this incredible technology that makes telephone seem from the middle ages and pen and paper ancient indeed?
I have heard that the administration reads personal messages from time to time, which for me is enough to warrant leaving. I have seen the administration delete threads which attempted to spread knowledge on wikipedia, and later understood this was because the administration wants to claim ownership, wants to have it written there first so that rule #18 can work in full effect. I have heard of people being banned for speaking out. Worst of all, I have heard of people, MY people, who were essentially told they don't exist. To me, this is the worst crime, to be told you don't exist and then stripped of any ability to speak out, to prove that you do, in fact, exist.
I'm done there, gone elsewhere, gone to a more acceptable place where I am can say what I wish. Perhaps they will eventually figure out what fools they are, and quit this business. Not likely.
Returning to coming out (of where, the closet? More like a stadium!). I can't back out anymore, my mind is set. There will be that giant drop of stomach as I click send, and then massive overwhelming relief as I realize that the motions are truly set in place, and all I can do is go with it. This inertia is very effective in helping me get things done, because it allows no room for waffling, for indecision. With the understanding of the inevitable comes a sense of calm, of relief, because one at least doesn't have to wonder what next, the what next has been decided, and all one can do is wait. Even now I 'm wondering, becoming indecisive, knowing that this event is a coin on edge resting on the point of a pin, balanced on a finger; there WILL be a result, and it will likely be immediate. It may be an explosion that rips my life apart and leaves me stranded. It may be a quiet wind of peace that sweeps me up and drives me forward, to where I want to be. SOMETHING will happen.
I am right to understand how pivotal this is.
Two more days of waiting. Two more days in the stadium, pretending I'm something I'm not. Yay for pretending to be male! I am so sick of hiding, so sick of worrying whether someone will find out, whether my mom will somehow figure it out on her own but incorrectly, whether I will just loose it, suddenly start shouting “I'm here I'm genderqueer, and I'm doing fine!”
Maybe I should do that anyway, at some point. Should be good for a momentary awkward laugh.
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