I’m happy to say that there’s been nothing to blog about concerning my visit to my parents this week. It’s been a quiet, uneventful week here in the deep South. My parents welcomed me in with all the love they usually do; I’ve visited with my sister ad her husband; I spent two hours playing Minecraft over local wifi with my niece and nephew; I even helped my mother adopt a new dog (a dachshund, very adorable).
I know that part of the comfort is that I’m not actually transitioned yet. I’m not the same Him they’re used to — my hair is longer, my ears are pierced, my body is thinner, my face is clean-shaven. But they can call me Him, see me as Him, and talk about transition as a thing that’s not right in front of them, or not talk about it at all if they’re so inclined. Generally, they choose the latter route.
I have made it a point to push my mom a bit, at least, bringing up topics of my transition both pointedly and even casually as asides. She talks to me about them, briefly, though the subject gets changed as quickly as she’s able. I don’t think she’s ever brought the subject up herself.
One amusing thing did come out this week. I found out that my dad and I are now on the same pill! His doctor prescribes him spironolactone as a water pill — its on-label use :). He’s only taking 25mg instead of my 200mg, but it was still neat to have discovered it.
The only truly awful part of the whole week happened at Thanksgiving dinner, and it had nothing to do with transitioning. We were at my sister’s house, nine of us around the table, ready to dig in. As I took my first bites, I looked around at my family, and in particular at my niece and nephew, and it suddenly hit me: my own kids were 700 miles away, having dinner in another state with another persons’ family. I was here with my family, but I wasn’t with them for the first time since my son was born nine years ago.
I tried to choke down the lump in my through, but it wasn’t going to happen. Instead, I excused myself from the table, went into a back room, and tried unsuccessfully not to cry. Then I texted my ex, told her I missed her and the kids on Thanksgiving, and cried a few more tears. All told it took me probably fifteen or twenty minutes to compose myself. By the time I got back to the table, dinner was starting to wind down. A couple of them already had pie.
The other elephant in the room yesterday, the one that I don’t even think occurred to them, is that this is my last Thanksgiving as Him. By this time next year I will almost certainly have transitioned in life, if not in work; by then I may even have legally changed my name. I have no idea how that would impact what I experienced yesterday. Would my sister’s in-laws have been comfortable at the table with Ali? Would my niece have cuddled up against me to watch me play video games? Would I have been welcome at the feast? I’m cautiously optimistic, but there’s still a lingering dread.
There’s one more day here, and it should prove to be equally uneventful. I’m just going to smile and enjoy it, and not worry too much about the future. For now.