A Half Of A Life To Live
By: Keira Kristine
Tags: Life Lessons, LGBTQ, Self Improvement, Life, Transgender

I recently read a story where the wife of a trans woman was articulating the idea that transitioning is not necessarily as selfish as it appears. One of the things that struck me in it was the line I only have half of a life to live. This went right down into my nerve endings and into my bones. Half of a life. Recently I’ve been unraveling a lot of threads in the tapestry that is Keira Kristine. I will tell you whether this is selfish or not it’s certainly not easy. Today is my 6 month mark for HRT and 4 days off from 2 months out of my family home of 13 years. A lot has transpired in the last 12 months. Lets lift the stone together and see what lies underneath.

I regret a lot. I spend most of my time moving forward so as not to stop and think about the many things I could have or should have done or not done. I try to lend my time and be there as needed but I’ve recently realized there is one person I have not been there for, and that’s me. I decided that as a person I wasn’t worth the investment. So I’ve kept everyone that tried to get close to me over the past 12 months out as much as possible. Recently I’ve become involved with another trans woman whom I care for a great deal and realized that maybe it’s time to stop waiting and start living. So I opened Pandora's box.

Inside I found a universe of self loathing and disdain running into my DNA threads. I have always been trans. It runs as far back into my memories as I have memories. There is nothing before it. I always felt like I was some accident or mistake. Why would I be born with these feelings that would eventually push me to the brink? Who’s to say really. There’s lots of theories out there. I believe I was meant to live a female life. The suppressing of this was a nightmarish alter reality where I took the form of what I thought a man was. I did what I was taught was right and what I was told was the way to live. Nothing could have been more wrong for me. Nothing caused more misery than pretending to be something I was not.

Somewhere along the line I got caught up in it. Started to forget what I had buried. Just adapted to being unhappy and feeling bad about myself and that became my day to day reality until I didn’t want to live another day on this Earth. Keira was officially born into the world at that point. But who the hell was she? What did she look like? How did she think? How did she feel? What could she become? What would happen to this façade? When I accepted that I was Keira 100% through and through I came into the world at age 43. Feeling a bit like Benjamin Button. HRT allowing me to age in reverse.

The bitter truth right there on the page. 43. My best years behind. I beat the hell out of my body trying to get out of it. Excessive drinking being the number one self abuse. Coupled with fast food every day and next to zero exercise I doubled down on the depression and everything was always in a state of falling apart. I didn’t care. How could I? My ex would constantly ask me how I could be so unhappy, look at everything you have. Sure on the surface I had it all. White, male, wife, kids and a house full of shit. What could be better really?

The fact that my ex and I were polar opposites and her needs directly conflicted with my needs. The house was just a representation of the cancer growing in my soul. Stuffing material things into a hole that could never be filled. Feeling this unending longing for something I believed was fully impossible. And the children keeping me firmly tethered and rooted in a life I loathed. I felt imprisoned in my own flesh and incarcerated in the wrong life. My ex speaks of our marriage as a cage. For me it was Guantanamo Bay.

I desperately needed to express myself as female and the stronger that need grew the more repugnant I became in response to this overwhelming impulse. It got to the point in the 8 months leading up to my coming out there was rarely a sober thought that wasn’t consumed in this fantasy life. I would imagine many different lives for myself in the role I had been cheated of by a chromosome fuck up. It would get so bad I had no choice but to drown it in the amber colored waters that would wash me with warm feelings and a momentary respite from my mental anguish. I was losing my grip on the mask.

When it came off and the entire world crumbled around me it really was instinctual and motivated by a desire to live. This was my one shot at attaining happiness after a lifetime of awkwardness. I hid it really well. From the outside looking in I seemed like a lot of other guys, into sports, games and my aggressive, wild and crazy energy mixed with my idiotic opinions kept the wolves at bay during those dark years. Instead of being called gay I was just considered an ass hole which for some reason was more appealing. I think in retrospect I just wanted to be off the radar. Or someone that no one wanted to be around or mess with.

Truth be told it was 100% self preservation I had hit the proverbial end of the road. So how does someone in complete repression just embrace their true self? Especially when you don’t even really know what that is anymore. It was grueling working those habits and thoughts out in such a short time. As the lady in the article stated I had files missing in my brain. I didn’t grow up learning how to act and present I had to hide that and I hid it until I couldn’t recognize it at all. I tried to avoid women as much as possible so my brain didn’t spiral into dysphoria as I would envy them and just go down the road of hostility. It got to the point I just couldn’t handle it and I wanted out. I needed out. I just didn’t realize what “out” meant for me.

So now on the other side of transition being somewhere in the middle. I am happier now. Things look a lot different. 6 months in and I’m developing right on target in breast growth, no more shirtless summer days. My skin is soft and things are shifting around a bit. All to be expected and every little minute change brings me elation that is indescribable. It’s one more step closer to my true self. However I only have half of my life left to actually live. I think about all the time I wasted. I remember at 27 I was set to go to this nightclub in Ft Myers and it was an amazing place. There was a lot of gender variants there. Why didn’t I just go on my own one day? Had I started this at 27? I remember standing in line and every other dude there would have been drooling over some of these girls. I remember just longing to be them. Hating what I was and that electric impulse running through my head. I just wanted to age out so I didn’t have to go to places like that and see those things. I could have been having amazing experiences but because of my repression and fear chose to become a shut in. I couldn’t handle it. I would try to force myself to feel a certain way but it just wasn’t authentic.

So here I am. 44 years old. 1 year out a trans woman. Take it or leave it. I will never be dishonest again. As I bear down on a surgery date to have my final piece of the puzzle for me. Not everyone needs it, I do. I realize that I need to let go of these thoughts and feelings. I have an amazing girlfriend now who is super supportive of me. And the future is looking bright. I guess my key take away from that article and my own blog are. It’s better to live half a life happy and free than to live a full life in denial. Take care my friends.