Belle Cri
07-18-2015, 01:37 PM
If I may, a new poster, and I'm really doing this to introduce myself again and try to get to know everyone. Perhaps some of these observations will seem infantile, naive, beginners mistakes, but I really am trying not to hear the awful negative voices I see in people's eyes. If I use inappropriate terminology, please pardon and correct me - this is really meant to be an observation of my recent experience today that I hope will help people in the beginning stages like myself. If not, please delete it, but I put this out there in the hope that it will reach people the way it did me and maybe, just maybe help.
I was feeling a bit bummed this morning. I've recently started this transformative process with my SO (let's call her ugh, she will hate this, but Jane as in Jane Doe), and I simply love and adore her to death. If it weren't for her and her acceptance, I would have been dead in an ICU unit of epilepsy a year ago. My cognitive dissonance and self hatred was so severe that it did not drive me to insanity (it almost pushed me, once you learn more about me, to be condemned to life as a chronic self denying alcoholic - what a miserable damned hell), but quite literally to a brain storm of paralysis and death (albeit, oddly peaceful once I got right there, but that is maudlin and the therapists i here will find it fascinating, perhaps) until Jane came along.
So, fast forward, we empty nest, Jane has an early shift today so I get up, make scones, coffee, etc., see her off while I pick up with my impossible clients. Then lunch rolls around, it's Saturday. I'm feeling a little put off, grumpy, maybe resentful that she is not as enamored as I am of this bright shining new toy of realization and my recent progress in self discovery. Fair is fair, we both have to get to work on a Saturday. Welcome to post cold war America. So, I put on my/her best daisy dukes, cute top, throw on some quick but very subtle eye makeup and bronzer, cute little skivvies and pop out the door here in New England for a bit of sushi at lunchtime.
When I hit the street - I have fantastic legs, sorry folks, I will brag on this point, I love showing them - The stares start. Every single nasty thought I have ever had about myself and my sexuality is menacingly reflected in their eyes - all the horrible, derogatory words - queer, faggot, queen, pussy (sorry mods - artistic license :))))) They were running right through my head every time I looked in a disapproving eye. I condemned myself right then and there to my supposed assessment of me. Why?? They probably are oblivious to begin with or are pissed off because little Andy broke something again, whatever. Or I'm just prettier - I have no idea, but it does feel hurtful because I haven't learned how to really not care yet. It's also the usual fratboy hostility (Stamford, sorry to overshare, is loaded with them).
They sneer, glare , puff - all the post-adolescent crap males in a gang pull. One makes a comment. I want to walk up to him and say "Son, I'm 50 years old and can put your butt in paradise in about 10 minutes if you knock off the nonsense." Of course I wouldn't. The ex military in me really, really wants to, but those days of male dominated inherent sexual violence are long gone. I simply look at him, smile, and think "you are merely pretty. If you try to hurt me, you will never hurt anyone again, ever." Bad, bad thoughts and karma. No. Enough. Walk away and go have a nice lunch for yourself because you've just made one hell of a lot of progress. Let the studs be. One of them will be me one day, and well, compassion is a difficult emotion sometimes when you are being brutally insulted.
I go into my little sanctuary of an asian restaurant. They all know me. "Hi's!" and courtesy nods all around. I'm waiting for an older Jewish woman infant of me picking up takeout (it's Saturday in New England - sorry folks, this IS an institution up here and you had better get used to cultural diversity in this neck of the woods). I reach over an check my heel - bleeding. I'm thinking, ugh, right at the wrong part of my ankle for tonight. I complain. She sympathies. We chat.
She is a lovely person. I can see from her face that she has been through hell and horrors beyond belief. She unfailingly and gracefully reaches into her bag and says "Dear, I'm sorry, I know how much that hurts, very painful. All I have is a Hello Kitty band aid and it's pink." I said "Darling, thank you, really? Do you really think a pink hello kitty bandaid on a cut ankle is going to bother me?" She beamed and said of course not. We sat, and had lunch, and I am not jewish - which if you are, you will understand what a big deal that was.
Here is the download of what happened at this lunch today. This beautiful older lady saw me as a person, not as a freak or a deviant sexual object, recognized me as human being, and in that one act of giving me the bandaid made a huge dent in 25 years of pain and self hatred.
I passed it forward. I have been gradually going en femme in this restaurant as a test for myself, a way to brave what has always terrified me. I left them a really excessive tip in cash. They are Japanese, and I have a good sense of that culture. Sure enough, the waiter came back and (not a word, comment, breath, glance, anything about my appearance or my makeup) said, "this is too much, we cannot accept."
I know this reaction , I have seen it time again. I said "No. You here treat me so well I should have done this long ago. It is a small amount of money and the weekend is coming. Please take it and enjoy what little is there, or share it among the chefs if you feel it is too much for one person. It is my way of thanking you for what you have done for me."
And right there was the lesson of a very old, wise little Jewish woman whom I have never met before in my life taught me about fortitude, grace, pain and acceptance. Be very alert to where the muses lie - they will sneak up on you unexpectedly and it is you job to accept their grace, as unlike a vessel as they might be. A small act of humanity and kindness will change someone's day or life. Practice it. It works.
Thank you for reading - I hope this helps someone.
Belle
I was feeling a bit bummed this morning. I've recently started this transformative process with my SO (let's call her ugh, she will hate this, but Jane as in Jane Doe), and I simply love and adore her to death. If it weren't for her and her acceptance, I would have been dead in an ICU unit of epilepsy a year ago. My cognitive dissonance and self hatred was so severe that it did not drive me to insanity (it almost pushed me, once you learn more about me, to be condemned to life as a chronic self denying alcoholic - what a miserable damned hell), but quite literally to a brain storm of paralysis and death (albeit, oddly peaceful once I got right there, but that is maudlin and the therapists i here will find it fascinating, perhaps) until Jane came along.
So, fast forward, we empty nest, Jane has an early shift today so I get up, make scones, coffee, etc., see her off while I pick up with my impossible clients. Then lunch rolls around, it's Saturday. I'm feeling a little put off, grumpy, maybe resentful that she is not as enamored as I am of this bright shining new toy of realization and my recent progress in self discovery. Fair is fair, we both have to get to work on a Saturday. Welcome to post cold war America. So, I put on my/her best daisy dukes, cute top, throw on some quick but very subtle eye makeup and bronzer, cute little skivvies and pop out the door here in New England for a bit of sushi at lunchtime.
When I hit the street - I have fantastic legs, sorry folks, I will brag on this point, I love showing them - The stares start. Every single nasty thought I have ever had about myself and my sexuality is menacingly reflected in their eyes - all the horrible, derogatory words - queer, faggot, queen, pussy (sorry mods - artistic license :))))) They were running right through my head every time I looked in a disapproving eye. I condemned myself right then and there to my supposed assessment of me. Why?? They probably are oblivious to begin with or are pissed off because little Andy broke something again, whatever. Or I'm just prettier - I have no idea, but it does feel hurtful because I haven't learned how to really not care yet. It's also the usual fratboy hostility (Stamford, sorry to overshare, is loaded with them).
They sneer, glare , puff - all the post-adolescent crap males in a gang pull. One makes a comment. I want to walk up to him and say "Son, I'm 50 years old and can put your butt in paradise in about 10 minutes if you knock off the nonsense." Of course I wouldn't. The ex military in me really, really wants to, but those days of male dominated inherent sexual violence are long gone. I simply look at him, smile, and think "you are merely pretty. If you try to hurt me, you will never hurt anyone again, ever." Bad, bad thoughts and karma. No. Enough. Walk away and go have a nice lunch for yourself because you've just made one hell of a lot of progress. Let the studs be. One of them will be me one day, and well, compassion is a difficult emotion sometimes when you are being brutally insulted.
I go into my little sanctuary of an asian restaurant. They all know me. "Hi's!" and courtesy nods all around. I'm waiting for an older Jewish woman infant of me picking up takeout (it's Saturday in New England - sorry folks, this IS an institution up here and you had better get used to cultural diversity in this neck of the woods). I reach over an check my heel - bleeding. I'm thinking, ugh, right at the wrong part of my ankle for tonight. I complain. She sympathies. We chat.
She is a lovely person. I can see from her face that she has been through hell and horrors beyond belief. She unfailingly and gracefully reaches into her bag and says "Dear, I'm sorry, I know how much that hurts, very painful. All I have is a Hello Kitty band aid and it's pink." I said "Darling, thank you, really? Do you really think a pink hello kitty bandaid on a cut ankle is going to bother me?" She beamed and said of course not. We sat, and had lunch, and I am not jewish - which if you are, you will understand what a big deal that was.
Here is the download of what happened at this lunch today. This beautiful older lady saw me as a person, not as a freak or a deviant sexual object, recognized me as human being, and in that one act of giving me the bandaid made a huge dent in 25 years of pain and self hatred.
I passed it forward. I have been gradually going en femme in this restaurant as a test for myself, a way to brave what has always terrified me. I left them a really excessive tip in cash. They are Japanese, and I have a good sense of that culture. Sure enough, the waiter came back and (not a word, comment, breath, glance, anything about my appearance or my makeup) said, "this is too much, we cannot accept."
I know this reaction , I have seen it time again. I said "No. You here treat me so well I should have done this long ago. It is a small amount of money and the weekend is coming. Please take it and enjoy what little is there, or share it among the chefs if you feel it is too much for one person. It is my way of thanking you for what you have done for me."
And right there was the lesson of a very old, wise little Jewish woman whom I have never met before in my life taught me about fortitude, grace, pain and acceptance. Be very alert to where the muses lie - they will sneak up on you unexpectedly and it is you job to accept their grace, as unlike a vessel as they might be. A small act of humanity and kindness will change someone's day or life. Practice it. It works.
Thank you for reading - I hope this helps someone.
Belle