A brief explanation...

Before I decided to post the next two entries, Release, Vol. I and Release, Vol. II, I thought it might be useful to add some type of introduction or preface to them. For reasons explained below, they seem to warrant one.



When I decided to transition earlier this year, it was because I realized I had finally come to terms with who I really was, at long last. A major factor in helping me reach that decision was reading other trans-related blogs. I was moved by the honesty and courage expressed by the authors. If they could do it, I thought, then so could I.

Soon after I started seeing a therapist, I decided to start a blog as well. While I had accepted who I was, I knew part of the process meant letting go of a lifetime of accumulated baggage, if you will. Or maybe scar tissue is a better description.

When I started writing, I had a vague idea that it might be useful to take a look at some of the events that I had never really allowed myself to consider up until now. I was surprised at the vividness of these memories; I may not have allowed myself to think about them, but they clearly had a hold on me.

I would think of an event from long ago, sit down in front of the screen, and be amazed at how the posts seemingly wrote themselves. Memories I had long suppressed - with good reason, in most cases - sprang forth intact.

The most remarkable result was what happened when I finished documenting my impressions of these memories: they lost their power over me. I no longer obsessed over them, and, in fact, found that I no longer thought of them at all.

However, always lurking in the background as I methodically worked through these posts were the memories of two incidents in particular.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that I've thought about the events these two posts describe every day since they took place. That would be half my life - a bit more than that, in fact. In fact, "thought" doesn't do justice to the grip they held on me. "Brooded" comes close, but I think "obsessed" isn't too much of an exaggeration.

I knew I wanted to write about them… but I kept putting it off. At first that was fine. I had a lot of other topics I knew I could safely document, so I addressed them first. Eventually, though, I could see the day of reckoning was approaching.

I spoke with a trusted friend and mentioned to her that I wanted to write about certain events, but was having trouble getting started. Her advice was sound: when you're ready, you'll know.

I realized in the past few weeks that I was approaching that moment. I had a nagging sense that by dancing around these memories, I was blocking myself from thinking about other topics. I wasn't sure what these new topics were, only that it wasn't healthy to let these events from the past prevent me from finding out.

Still, I struggled. I had several false starts, and finally confessed to my therapist that I needed the proverbial kick in the pants. Her suggestion, a natural for a writer like me: a deadline. We agreed that I would bring the results to my next session, which would be held today, December 15.

And so it was that I sat down over the weekend to finally confront what I had so long avoided. I told myself I would sit down and write until I was finished, straight through. Otherwise I wasn't sure I could start again.

And so I did. The first post took nine consecutive hours without a break; the second, nearly sixteen hours. Other than an hour or so of minor polishing last night to add a few details and clear up some typos, what you'll see is what I wrote. I vowed I would be as honest as I could, and I believe I was.

Without exaggeration, these were the two most difficult pieces of writing of my life. I was, and still am, an emotional basket case. (No fair if you're thinking, "And what's new about that?!?" <lol>) I shed tears more than once, but they felt good. Finally.

I did, in fact, bring them to my session today. I told her that I was debating whether or not to post these or not, in part because they were, well, depressing <lol>, but more because they were so personal. On the way home I remembered how the blog I mentioned gave me the courage to call, and decided to put them up. Maybe someone will stumble across them one day and find in them some small measure of help.

Happily, I've found that writing these posts had the desired effect. I feel SO much better it's hard to believe. And ideas for future topics are bubbling up constantly. And, as I just joked with a friend, I promise they're much less wrist-slittingly depressing. <g> So stay tuned for the forthcoming hilarity, and thank you for indulging my mega-dark side one last time!