‘Why change back?’
A friend of mine asked me that Friday night after meeting me for the first time as me, and it threw me off. She had earlier deemed me as ‘looking great’ and given me the thumbs-up on my outfit. I hesitated in my answer, dissembling about getting my divorce final and my name changed and getting a new job.
It’s only been with hindsight that I can see I had a hard time answering because the framing of her question was off. While I’ve definitely changed compared to where I was even a few weeks ago, my transition is an emergence for me. I have burst from the bud and there is no going back to that, even if my bloom goes off.
This past week as myself has taught me that I am beyond the midpoint — I am no longer grasping for moments of me because I have realized that I am me; a complex woman who is emerging into her own. It is still so fresh that it has a pleasantly surreal aspect to it, an unreality of dreams coming true that I wish I could bottle and sprinkle on myself in the future when I’m feeling glum.
For now though, I will hide in the twilight of gender for a bit longer from those who aren’t or haven’t been paying attention.
But change back? I could no more change back into a child. I’ve grown.