The distinct feeling of being orphaned is back, and it sucks. Once more, I don't feel like I belong anywhere or maintain a purpose. The past 4 months and 13 days have been an absolute nightmare. Wondering through life lonesome and sad, with no one to belong to.
I'm terrified that if or when I let them go the nightmare I'm currently living will get worse. Even thinking about letting them go in fact makes me want to check myself into a hospital for observation. With my history I know I'm capable of doing something stupid. On top of all that, if I change my last name to get rid of the Mazoins name, and abandon all our hopes, dreams and goals in the past. My burning question is who would I be?
Take the most heterosexual male we can imagine, looking in the mirror he sees breasts and a vagina on his body looking through the only tiny windows in his prison cell, his eyes. Imagine what that would do to the most heterosexual male. It’s a life of misery, and one many try to kill themselves to escape. The bulling, and right out discrimination doesn’t help either. Hell I typically never leave my house, because I fear that I will run across the wicked person who hates girls like me and will execute me.
Not that I need to be protected, but yeah it would be nice to have someone here with me if things got awful. I’ve always said that if the world gets too crazy I would bug out in the mountains away from everyone. This would be terrifying, and extremely lonely to do by myself. Nicholas and I talked about this topic before, and he was going to be my protector and bug out buddy. Oh how things have changed.
As my new life started taking shape, Nicholas would enter my world. He would turn out to be my first boyfriend as my authentic self, and I would be his first trans woman ever. Being each other's firsts, I believe made the dysphoria go away, because once we saw each other face to face I was totally okay with being intimate with him
Very quickly I lost sight of the woman who was emerging, and she was hijacked willingly by a smooth talking, good-looking boy. I was forty years old at the time, and here was this young twenty-three year old strapping young man showing me interest. I was completely blinded, and swept up in the moment. I loved how he treated me, and loved the things he would say to me. It was like he knew exactly what I wanted to hear, and knew exactly how I needed to be treated.
Bless her soul, she said some of the nicest, kindest things to me. Nothing that anyone has said impacted me more than the words that she used. I now feel free, and like it’s okay to let go. Actually I know I have to let go because it’s a life or death choice. She made sure to tell me to let loose because the more I hung on, and had contact with him the bigger of a chance his crazy ass could flip and show up here to kill me. I did miss him on occasion today, and as soon as the wacko popped into my head, I brought forward the memory of him punching me in the eye, and pinning me to the ground trying to put his hands around my neck.
After Nicholas and I were connected again on social media, I did find someone that was a big part of our online romance in the beginning. I had just began to transition and was a member of a transgender support group. That’s where he and I met. There were a lot of people in this group that were supporters and allies of the transgender community, and we got to know a few of them, and they supported our new blossoming love. When I saw her name in his friends list I immediately sent her a friend request, and we picked up as if we hadn’t lost contact with one another.