Hopscotch…A Jump in Life 4

*Before…

And there’s people that are there like me on my friends list and that are trans too and stuff and they call me Whisper or Wisp or Song but several of them…

They call me Sarah.

And even reading it, reading it with that inner voice inside…you know the one that goes on while you’re reading something and there’s that inside narrative thing?

It doesn’t feel wrong.

It doesn’t feel like Shawn.

And there’s tears starting to run down my face.

I think I’m really Sarah.

*And Now…

It’s really, really becoming a fast obsession looking through my Live Journal and reading all of the thoughts there and posts back and forth. It’s not familiar in the way that I know things and the contexts of the conversations there but it feels all so right and all so real.

Actually the most real that I’ve felt since I woke up.

And I have this odd suspicion that being Sarah was the most real that I ever felt.

There is so much here too.

I see pictures of me…of Sarah and they’re obviously taken sort of in stealth and away from everyone else and there’s notes too about how it was modified to look more real with like Photoshop to be what I could look like or should look like and there’s this whole ache and ow and hurt in my chest that’s so not medical when I see those end results.

The feelings didn’t get wiped out.

Dammit that feels like me.

Not the me here in the bed who looks like Shawn, looks like a Shawn…but her.

Me…Sarah.

And there’s other stuff too, like links to web comics and then there’s these pictures of outfits and clothes that I want or think are cute and some of them I see myself saying things like.

“I know this is totally out of a sane person’s budget or like need because I don’t think even if I could be me all the time where would I wear it? But… *Sighs*…I’d just like to wear it some place pretty like a gazebo and kind of like spin…just…because.”

Which there’s usual comments that lead into what we’re actually wearing and I’m not wearing anything girly when I wrote this because there’s frowning faces in the posts and stuff but I’m not the only one either of my friends here on my page and I think out of like maybe a dozen people maybe four are dressing and maybe transitioning.

But it’s still…it’s like finding my voice, my inner voice with all that stuff inside that wasn’t matching Shawn has suddenly this yes place and it’s growing.

I’m kind of engrossed in this when there’s a knock and my Mom is there and it’s a shock because I lost track of time and then there’s all of this stuff that I just found out about me.

I don’t know what to do?

I shut down my tablet and smile at her. “Hey morning.”

“Morning sweetie how are you feeling?”

“Sleepy a bit but at the same time…”

“At the same time what honey?”

I bite my lip a little. “This stuff kind of sort of helped.”

“Really that’s great!”

“Well it’s more feelings and stuff but there’s things that I’ve kind of figured and kind of found out that sort of make a lot more sense.”

“More sense?”

I nod. “Like what I’m feeling even without like knowing it for like certain there’s this feeling that’s kind of like…”

“Resonating with you?”

“Yeah, I think that’s sort of a good word for it…I guess.”

“Well that’s good so what was it that helped? The music? I know you have a lot of music downloaded and stuff you’re always going with your MP-3 player.”

“Actually I haven’t really gotten to my music yet.”

“Okay so what was it?”

“My online diary.”

“Oh like Live Journal?”

I look at her suspiciously. “Yes…………”

She rolls her eyes. “No, I haven’t been in your stuff Shawn y’know that as parents we had lives before all of you kids came along and we actually have things like online account too.”

“You sure you didn’t?”

“No I didn’t I don’t snoop and I don’t creep peoples accounts especially my son’s….just eeew.”

Oh…

“Okay……”

“Well I grew up in the whole internet age start up and I remember when your grandparents would always be in my business and my life online and just didn’t get it.”

“Okay but dad?”

She grins. “Your dad’s the opposite of me, he does all the stuff that I love to do and want to do and I’d never actually do without him pulling me along.”

“Really?...because like I don’t remember and it’s all a blank.”

“But you said you were having some feelings and stuff that made sense.”

“They do but I’m not even sure about how to go about talking about it especially since it’s stuff I just like discovered.”

She sits and takes a drink of her Tim Horton’s and the smell is nice…maybe I like both tea and coffee?

“That makes sense kiddo do you want to talk about it?”

“That’s kinda what I’m saying Mom…I don’t know how, and I’m not sure that I’m ready yet.”

Mom looks at me and I can tell it’s bugging her and that she’s balancing it between wanting to know and needing to know and what she just told me about her respecting my boundaries and all.

And the thing is I have the strongest sense of believing her about that at least.

I’m pretty sure that she’s not a liar.

No I don’t know, know that but at the same time learning what I’ve learned and everything my gut feelings have been pretty spot on and that’s what I think I’m going to trust.

She sighs and she does that thing where girls hold the cup in both hands while they take a drink and it just sort of does something in my brain or heart or something that rings out yes and me…

Then she nods. “Well then maybe this whole counselling thing your doctor wants to see you go to might help. They’re good at getting people to get stuff out and all. I mean it worked for your dad.”

“It did?”

“Yeah…” She looks at me and she moves her chair over and she digs through her purse/shoulder bag and she takes out one of those digital photo album things…which is kind of score that I know what it is and all and she flicks through it sideways until she shows me pictures of my Dad only like maybe ten years ago or something and he’s in military stuff for the desert and things.

“Dad was over in Afghanistan?”

She nods. “And it did things, he’d seen things that messed with his heart and he really didn’t know how to really deal with the stuff going on inside until he got some help.”

“Okay…it’s kind of cool actually knowing that…I don’t quite feel like I’m alone in being sort of screwed up.”

She leans over and she one arm hugs me. “Honey no one is immune to being screwed up inside and we all kind of go through stuff…it’s actually one of the things I like about people.”

“That we’re all screwed up?”

“That we’re all screwed up or being screwed up or in the process of screwing up. When you realize that people are really, really far from perfect they disappoint you a lot less and when they do good things or are just kind or amazing it just means a lot more.”

I look at her.

Bite my lip a little. “Even when they’re weird and not like normal?”

“Conformity is crap.”

I look at her.

She smiles and shrugs and she just looks back. “What?”

“You...”

“Me what?”

“You don’t act like the whole idea I have in my head of like the whole mom-thing.”

“Good…I don’t want to be that kind of mom.”

I snerk. “I’m picturing you in a Che-Guevara shirt with an Anarchy flag.”

She shakes her head. “Never I went to school with kids that did that sort of thing and it was kind of vom-inducing then when it’s not our culture or anything to do with our culture.”

“We have a culture?”

“Great question kiddo yeah I think we do but it’s not part of someone’s culture to use important stuff from someone else’s to be trendy.”

I look at her. “Oh you were so not part of the IN crowd going to school were you?”

She shakes her head no. “Not remotely and I hated it.”

“Hated it?”

“I wasn’t one of the good looking girls and I wasn’t one of the party girls that found her self-esteem in the bottom of some teen guy’s bed I just kind of was the shy girl with no figure and big braces and a bit too tall that was way too good at math.”

I’m looking at her and there’s this sort of feeling?”

“I…I never knew any of this before did I? I mean we didn’t talk like this did we?”

She shakes her head no. “No we didn’t you were kind of a quiet kid a lot of the time you hung with your friends some from school but you were kind of like your dad and quiet and laid back and stuff.”

I look at her. “I’m like my Dad?”

“Well with like that temperament and stuff.”

“Oh…”

I…I really don’t know how to deal with that or how to feel about it? I mean I’m Sarah right so I just kind of thought that I’d take after my Mom more or something and not my dad and I really can’t figure out if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“Surprised?”

“Y...Yeah kind of…it wasn’t what I was expecting to hear.”

“Really?”

“Yeah…I thought I’d be more like you Mom.”

I look at her and she actually has this really sort of surprised look on her face.

And…I’m really surer than ever she doesn’t know.