Martyr Complex

I really don’t much believe in a God but if you still happen to believe in (Insert deity of own choice) then you probably would struggle with how they would do something so peculiarly cruel as to give you a body and a gender which are completely at odds.

I’ve had plenty of “Why Me?” moments if I’m honest. And not all are ancient history either. What did I supposedly do in a past life to get dealt such a hand this time around? But Whomever is responsible, despite some terribly shitty moments and an awful lot of intense doubt, is someone I’d like to thank immensely.

Being transgender has obviously changed my life. But overall the actual experience has rarely been to my detriment. I’m simply better off for it. Without any shred of those doubts. And along the way, I really got to know myself more fully. Although it turned out that male or female, I’m still sometimes a dick. Which is mildly disheartening but also provides a hugely comforting sense of continuity. That there is at least a Me at the heart of my situation. And proves that character flaws are forever friends.

So I am glad I got to be Transgender when the chips are down. I wouldn’t necessarily trade any of the experience it’s brought me. Every stare, every comment whether good or bad, ultimately gave me something I could use. Which was mostly just strength. And perspective. I might be Trans. It might be hard sometimes. But often it’s not. And even if I wasn’t, I’d just have another type of cross to bear. But I am and it’s been brilliant. And I’ll always be thankful to (Insert deity of own choice) .

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