I feel very isolated.  I don’t feel whole.  There’s still that hole in my middle, the stomach is not filled, I’m not fed completely.  And I wonder whether or not I will ever have that feeling of being embraced.  When I pretended to be a gay male I could pretend to be a part of the gay community.  And it looked good on paper and the surface.  Sometimes it worked.  But as trans it doesn’t work.  Doesn’t work.  You have to find a collection of trans friends that you can depend on. 

The other day I was working in the office I share with my roommate.  And we were talking about hot flashes and she says, “Well, if you were a real woman you would understand.”  And I thought, “Wow.   That’s deep. And I live with this chick.  Seven years, and she still don’t get it.”  I didn’t even address it because I thought, eh.  We’ll come back to that some other time.  You have to have a sense of humor.  And choose your battles very carefully, because they do have emotional ramifications that produce stress.  And I try to cut down on stress.  It’s not productive.

One of the reasons I switched over to the Afro-centric clothing and the hair and all of that is I don’t like where the mainstream puts women, visually.  And it’s all visual.  It’s like we don’t have any insides.  Everything is visual.  So I thought, well, okay.  I’m already isolated.  The advantage to being isolated, it gives you permission to really be who you are, because you think nobody really cares.  And I’m tired of trying to prove something.  So I’m just gonna be.