Mess in a Red Dress

My life is a mess, twenty-six years rolling around this Earth to be in the middle of my twenties, more pessimistic about life than ever. Slowly, I become more myself each day, and I’m blessed to have the ability to do hormone replacement therapy, yet the struggles only grow. My identity seems to always take the forefront in every aspect of gossip that surrounds me. My life as it is is but a sin to those who are my closet family, hypocrites at the very least.

I’m overwhelmed by every day, fearing I’ll never be able to do enough to have a life of my own. My life is so intertwined in everyone else’s opinions of how I should live that it’s hard to build my own path. My successes are only to be cherished alone, for I shall never be able to do enough in the eyes of my parents.

I’ve missed my chance, passed the age it’s acceptable to still be lost, trying to make ends meet, yet I feel as though my life has only truly begun in the last two years, starting my transition. However, the last six months have been something beyond what I thought possible.

Although I can’t ever feel enough as the disphoria grows every time I look in the mirror. He becomes more mine every day, and it both excites me and scares me. What if I hurt him in the process, all because I wasn’t born the person I see myself today? The allegations never cease; my fears have grown beyond myself and now encapsulate a life with another person. I feel an intense need to protect him, hide him from the shame and torment.

Yet I want to be seen, my existence meant to be entirely opposite of what most people aspire to want, but when you find love, you just want a place to build and call home. Normalcy so you can worry about making sure your husband is taking care of himself so together we can grow old.

I never wanted to grow old, watch the wrinkled form and my body decay. I wanted to live loud, intensely, and leave with a bang. Fuck up the world and leave before it all came crashing down on me, but it’s all changed. Now I have a reason to grow old, watch my children grow, and have my husband beside me the whole way. Feels like a movie, except no movie can encapsulate this feeling.

So I’m lost, yet I’ve been seen. Sinking but finding air. Pulling myself out of the pit, will I ever succeed?