Where to begin?

[gazoinkafinx.livejournal.com]

This may not be the right place for me, but I have to start somewhere. Hopefully, I can obtain some good feedback here which will help me sort through what's been going on in my life as of late.

The backstory? I'm 39, out as a lesbian since 17. My partner and I have been together 8 years and had a VT civil union in 2002. I've been through various stages since coming out, starting as an in-your-face raging dyke at 17, gradually passing through tomboy butch, bar rat, political activist, average working stiff along the way. While I was political, I don't think I could ever be defined as feminist, at least not in the separatist sense. I have had many friends who were, but I didn't see men or patriarchy the way they did. We had different world views, and that was that. By the time I hit my late 20s, I saw my sexual orientation as part of who I am, not the whole of me. For the last decade, I've just trundled along, doing my thing, not the least in-your-face or activist or anything. Just, y'know, a yuppie suburban lesbian. At no time since I came out have I at all questioned my sexuality: I'm definitely a woman's woman. Or so I have believed.

I have had male friends, straight and gay, in my life through all it permutations. Before I came out, I dated some guys and fooled around with others. The sex was never about them, it was always a means to an end (using them to get something I wanted, for example) and I never cared much about their feelings, their pleasure and really didn't know what I was doing, nor did I care to know. It seemed like I never related to men on any emotional level beyond that of good buddy. I love my male friends, but not that way, to use a hackneyed phrase. It seems ridiculous, the idea that I could be attracted to - or even attractive to - a man.

This past spring, I met a fellow with whom I had an almost immediate connection. Lots in common in terms of background, history, mindset, worldview, interests, all of it. After just hours with him, he felt kindred to me. He kidded me about the connection, but didn't make any salacious jokes or rude suggestions. He took me for me, and I took him for him, but he got to me. It was something of a shock to discover that I had a deep attraction to him and the more time I spent with him, the more attracted I became - mentally, emotionally, physically, all of it. I had had sex with men, but I had never made love with one and I wanted to make love with Jack.

Long story short, I've been having an affair with Jack for a few months now. We've both gone to great lengths to be blase about it, "no obligations, no expectations" is our motto, but I fell in love with him anyway. And as I have struggled with that realization and acceptance, it became harder to be so nonchalant. I found myself behaving like a snotty teen girl with him, something I have never done with anyone in my life. Eventually, I tell him as much as I will admit out loud to him or anyone else: he matters to me. I care about him. And he says...there's something you should know.

Jack, huge, muscular, masculine, macho, mustachioed Jack, self-identifies as transgender. Jack sees himself as a woman trapped in a man's body. The revelation blew me away.

I didn't have a frame of reference for my desire for him in the first place, and I really don't have a frame of reference for this reality either. Yeah, one could moralize a lot about my infidelity - and believe me, I've been doing a lot of that too - but the thing that is really kicking my ass is that I am attracted to everything he rejects and regrets about himself, at least in the physical sense. Although I was rocked for a few days after his news, upon reflection I knew it changed nothing of how I feel about him. Nor, interestingly, has it changed my passion for him. I'm trying to figure this out.

Basically, I'd like to hear back from anyone who has had a similar experience. Any context would help me find my bearings: right now, I cannot quite discern the horizon between sea and sky and could use some point of reference. I'd appreciate feedback.

Am I "just running away"? (X-posted everywhere)

[waking-morgan.livejournal.com]

I'm fortunate to be very self-aware, almost to the point of being too introspective at times. I know myself very well- I know my patterns. Obviously, it's important to examine those patterns, particularly the negative ones, before making any irreversible decisions. So this entry is going to be kind of negative, but it's something that has to be done.

I've suffered from occasionally incapacitating self-doubt my entire life. I have had a tumultuous past. I'm an only child. My parents divorced just as I was graduating high school. My father just wanted out, and my mother was intolerable to live with. (To make a long story short, she kicked me out and then harassed me and the family who took me in for months, claiming the family "sucked me in"- that's the kind of person she is.) Ever since I graduated high school I've been aimlessly wandering the world, it seems. I've been to five different colleges and flunked out three times, mostly because I just can't stick with anything long enough to make it work, or I start some program and then realize I totally hate it and can't imagine myself doing whatever it is for the rest of my life. I've lived many places, including England, where I was married for a couple of years. (Incidentally, my ex husband was an MTF who, for reasons I still don't understand, halted transition and decided to live as his birth gender.) I don't have a great employment history, either, never having held a job for more than a few months.

Often, I feel that I've failed or quit everything I've ever tried, that I'm never going to be anything more than a drifter, that I'm utterly useless and I'm going to continue to be utterly useless until I just pick something and stick with it. I can convince myself, and people around me, of anything. For instance, I can point out many things in my past that would seem to lend themselves to my pursuing a particular major in college, or a particular job. I've can't even count how many times I've done that, and yet I've never been able to bring any of those ideas to fruition. I'm interested in everything, I just don't seem to have the intestinal fortitude to see anything through. I do believe that if I'd really been able to put forth the effort in many, if not all, of those situations, I might actually have found myself in a fulfilling career. How do I know that transition isn't just another one of these ventures of mine, undertaken in a moment of manic enthusiasm? How can I possibly know if this is right for me, when so many things have seemed so right for me in the past and haven't been, or at least, I've decided they haven't been?

Part of the problem is that every time I'd get an idea I wanted to pursue as a child/teenager, my well-meaning (but mentally ill) mother would tell me that I was "just running away", and that I should simply pursue option A, the one she picked for me, because it was safe and practical. I was going to the two-year county community college and I was going to be a nurse. At sixteen I was on the waiting list for the nursing program. Well, I'm 28 now, and I'm obviously not a nurse. Thing is, I'm not much of anything. I feel like I'm losing precious time. I feel like if I don't make some decisions really damn soon, I'm going to grow old still being a lot of "almosts" and "used-to-be's". It's scary.

In my defense, there have been reasons why I've found it difficult to get things accomplished. I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia/CFS at the age of 14. I've dealt with chronic depression and generalized anxiety disorder for many years, and one of the times I flunked out of college was due to having been put on an antidepressant (Paxil) that did a lot more harm than good. I've always had some problems with attention span, but my antidepressants have increased the ADD-like symptoms over the years. Also, as I've mentioned before, I have chronic back problems, largely due to my breasts. The pain is constan, and at times it's so severe that I can't walk without a cane. Then there are the hormone imbalance issues, which cause a whole other cluster of problems. Of course, I can't afford health insurance, so most of this stuff just goes untreated and continues to worsen. I don't look at any of this stuff as an excuse, though. People get through worse than this and become very successful. Why can't I be the same? Why shouldn't I be?

So here are some more questions: If I've got all these issues already, why do I want to add transitioning to my list of "complications"? Why am I even considering this? Do I think it's going to somehow solve all my problems? Do I hate being a woman, or do I just hate my body? After all, there are ways to change my body that don't involve becoming a man. Here's another problem: if I answer these questions with big long explanations, am I just going to be trying to convince myself of one thing or another based on whatever feels comfortable at this particular moment? In light of that idea, I'm going to leave those questions alone for now, and close by saying, "Boy, am I fucked."