This diary entry talks about my fears of abandonment and feelings of loneliness, things I had been dealing with ever since first learning that people would hate me for being a girl at age 10. For me, being trans was a very isolating experience because I was so afraid to let anyone find out about me, and I knew from experience that I could not even trust my family. That lead me to not trusting anyone at all, something that became a very big problem for me as an adult and it still affects me even today (though I am much better now, and may even have had a breakthrough recently).

Actually coming to understand this about myself was very … overwhelming. I couldn’t really explain to anyone what was going on; I just had to cry a really big cry and be hugged and held.

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Tuesday, July 8, 1997

I’ve started getting things ready for surgery: I’ve called M.A. and Dr. C. to get letters of recommendation lined up; I’ve got the phone number of the consulate: I’ve got Dr. M.’s packet. I’m ready.

I wasn’t ready until just a few days ago – Friday night. That afternoon I was feeling lonely so I called D. to talk and maybe suggest that we get together and do something, however K. had just arrived at her house and the two of them were going out for the 4th of July celebrations, so I said “bye” and we hung up. I was disappointed, but before I could get up D. called back and asked if I wanted to go with them. Of course, I said “yes”.

We drove around and wound up eating dinner at [a restaurant]. After that we picked up S. and went to watch the fireworks.

I felt happy.

And I finally realized what had been holding me back from the surgery: fear of being alone.

I’m not sure what exactly led to this revelation, but there were several things that happened that night which probably influenced me. Early on, just after K. and D. picked me up we went to an ATM so I could get some cash. Now standing at the ATM I could not see the car, and I found myself very afraid that when I went back they would have left without me – that they would have abandoned me. I knew that this was irrational but I still had the nagging suspicion that they would at least have pulled around the corner as a “joke”. Even as I reached for the handle I was afraid they would drive away at the last minute.

I can’t explain the origin of this fear.

The other thing that I believe led to my epiphany was seeing Susan. Ever since she came back I’ve been able to see first hand how the recovery time and the “home-boundedness” it imposes result in isolation and loneliness. She’s always saying how much she appreciates it when I call.

This kind of ioslation – being at home alone – is exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid lately. To think that I have to face it directly in order to achieve my dream/goal/life-long ambition of gender congruity/bodily form/womanhood is very daunting. To achieve my dream I have to face my nightmare.

This is especially bad in light of how I’ve only recently started to be able to be social. In a sense I was better prepared for the loneliness when it was still the dominant theme in my life and I didn’t know anything else. Of course, at that time I was also unprepared for surgery itself because I could not even identify my fears. Only by recognizing and experiencing my fear have I gained the potential to overcome it.

Hmm … “Fear is the mind-killer. I will not fear. Fear is the little death. I will face my fear and allow it to pass through me. And when it has passed I will turn to see the path it has taken, but it will not be there, for it never truly existed.” (Or something like that.) I think that I may understand the litany now for the first time ever – and I mean really understand the meaning behind the words and why they are true.

I was thinking about these issues and coming to my realization while we were watching the fireworks, and walking back to the car is when it really hit me. All of my fear came crashing down on me at once and I suddenly felt very alone and isolated. Suddenly I desperately needed to know that I wasn’t alone and so I reached out to D. to hug her. She must have sensed that something was wrong because she didn’t complain and she held me. I started to cry then. I must’ve cried for 5-10 minutes and all that time I was hoping someone would ask me why I was crying – but ask me after I’d stopped; at the time I couldn’t really talk. They all asked when they saw me crying, but let it drop when I didn’t immediately respond.

The next night at K.’s party I was hoping to talk about all this, but I never got a chance ( at least not one that I recognized.) I hate television.

But I love my friends and I wish I knew how to be closer to them. I’m trying, but I’ve no experience at it and I think that my past aloofness has made them think that I don’t want to be closer.

There’s not yet light at the end of the tunnel, but I’m finally in the tunnel, and I’m moving.

Blessed Be!