The Giving Tree

Few books really leave something with me, but The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstien did. It's a beautiful story about a tree that gave everything it had for the love of a boy throughout his life. The thing that really struck me about the story was I had no idea how many things trees give, and it expanded my mind.

I'm hurting inside these days. I'm not going to get into specifics because they are deeply personal, even for a blog, and for those who are really interested, text me or facebook me, and we can go for a walk. If the mood is right, perhaps caring will prevail. But for now, I will carry the burden I have, and I know that time heals all things. 

A few weeks ago someone contacted me, who felt similar about gender as I did. We texted for most of the day, and it was very nice. This person had asked me if I had ever had second thoughts about transitioning, and I had told them that I had, but only for very brief moments, and for the most part, I had really blossomed as a result of coming out and embracing what I felt inside. 

I still feel that way.

Yet, life is a patchwork of relationships, woven together through friendship, tears, love, anger, forgiveness, and commitment. As a result of this patchwork, I sometimes feel that I may fit into it better as a man, rather than a woman.

Another person (sorry for my being vague) close to me had complained that I was being too personal on my blog. They suggested that I was giving a bad name to religion and that it bothers them. Prior to transitioning, my square grey patch matched the framework of the quilt to a tee. Although,  I felt grey inside, I suppose if I could learn to see myself as part of the bigger picture... 

I'll leave that thought hanging.

So, it's how I feel this morning. Questioning, second guessing, worried, and unhappy. More than I have been in a while. Yet, I know that however things work out, it will work out for the better, and that happiness is a choice that I can make, regardless of my gender.

The funny thing is that I've told myself this 100, even 1000 times prior to transitioning. "It's a choice!" I would remark in my head, and re-commit myself to being a better person. 

It _did_ _not_ _work_.

So what happens when you have become a shiny new elm leaf shape, with brilliant colors, and you don't fit into the quilt anymore? There must be a way to make it work. There must be! Again, time solves all problems.

Until then, it's the giving tree. Whatever I have, I offer freely. My love, my service, my commitment, my time. 

This is what I do when I love someone.