In the short time I’ve allowed myself to be part of the CD community, I’ve noticed that a lot of people seem to have two distinct “thems” — their male and their female. They will talk about how “I introduced my wife to Maria” or “This weekend I got to be Sharon.” Like their male and female sides are different people.
I’ve tried this on, mentally, but it just doesn’t feel right. I don’t have two names. I’m just me. The name I’m using for this blog — Ariamythe — isn’t something I consider “my name.” It’s an Internet handle. Its purpose is to keep me anonymous. I think it’s a beautiful name (I should know, I made it up) but I didn’t make it up for me. Ariamythe was an elf bard in a story I wrote once. I’ve toyed with “naming” myself in my head, but I just don’t divide myself into male and female like that. Me is me.
Since coming out to myself I’ll grumpily complain about “him-me” sometimes but that’s just … I don’t know, venting. Sometimes going back to my normal life feels like “not me” anymore. Actually, it began feeling like “not me” the minute I became honest with myself. I don’t change who I am when I’m “him-me”. I’m just grumpy that I have to distinguish me from “not me”.
And before anyone starts armchair-Freuding me — no, I don’t think it’s about me wanting to be a woman! I think it’s about me associating “him-me” with all the years I lied to myself. When I’m “him-me” I’m still living the lie. I’m me when I’m being honest with myself, but when I’m “him-me” I’m lying to the world. But I’m still me even when I’m “him-me.” Just not to anyone else.
Gods, even typing that gave me a headache.
I feel stupid even trying to think through this. This isn’t a crisis; it’s just how we have to live our lives. Don’t we always lie to the world? Isn’t that the way we cope? I lie to my coworkers everyday! “Yes, Jim, that’s a great idea.” “Sure thing, boss, I love working here.” What’s one more lie? How is this different?
There aren’t two of me in here. There’s one me, but Me has to wear a costume most of the time, the Him-Me costume. And that doesn’t mean the Me is a her. Me is just … me. I think.
Does that make sense?