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I submitted this as an article on CDH when I first joined and was told it was a bit esoteric for the site. My response now is esoteric or not women’s spirituality has and always will be a part of my path during transition as it has been part of my path for the last 20 years. Part of this came from the idea of Hozier’s song Better Love. At Jasmine’s request I am posting this here.
Self-imposed exploitation of my feelings, desires, and dreams, knowing how alone I’ve lived, unexplained, unexplored, unfamiliar to my family and friends. Living in fear, dreading each day, waking to a nightmare, a surreal and tormented hallucination. The secret tribulation of my life, all my born days from the cradle, life descending, perilously spiraling every moment and every moment between moments, to my final resting place.
I perceived myself as a miscreation, a monstrosity, Frankenstein, contrived by my own narcissism, my identity, gender, self-esteem, expression, were forged on an anvil of lies. His name was Fear, the blacksmith forging a weapon, tempering out its edges named Anger and Hate. For decades, that hammer named Whip pounded with every blow, wailing like that of a tuning fork, shrieking, “Bound!”, “Shackled!”, “Slave!”, Always keeping perfect time, a tempo of dismay. Yet Fear faltered, his whip landed its final assault with too much force upon the corpus of my consciousness, this false “I” shattered.
Trembling, naked, and afraid in the barren desert of my cold, dark, and deluded mind, the mirage faded, providence interceded in the nick of time. Too feeble to endure, alone, and sobbing, I beckoned for her aid, seeking absolution, without the confession of any of my sins. I offered a shred of evidence my desires and my dreams, this love inside that still remained for me. She shared with me and said, “That’s the only love that you will ever need,” that there was no finer love, no greater or more accomplished love than that love which I should have for myself.
I offer thanks unto her in grateful recognition for all she shared with me, providing counsel, helping to build my self-esteem. Now, family and friends know I’m not the gender they always knew me to be. I could no longer live that way, angry with my self, hating how I felt. I am no longer bound by the gender assigned to me from birth or shackled to poor self-esteem, no longer a slave to express myself as others would have me do. And I repeated what she shared with me, “There’s no finer love, there’s no greater love, there’s no more accomplished love than that love that I share, with thee as me.”
I return back to that desert in my mind, now that I’ve had some time, and it is not so cold, dark, and desolate anymore. I find myself not laid out on an anvil, a victim being forged. Instead, I’m prostrating at her altar beseeching self-forgiveness. She appears standing, clothed befitting a goddess, in a pose of determined prowess, and she tells me, “Sit and clear your mind, think of it no more, try letting go, suffer not, scourge yourself no more. Embrace as a child your genesis swelling inside. Dream, to dream of manifested dreams, live life in rapturous joy, and cherish her, this woman that you are.”.
I ask, “My daughter asked for none of this, how do I forgive myself?”. Again she answered me, “Mia, get up from these sands, rise and stand with me,” taking my hand, she guided me to my feet. And continued, “Now stand with pride and certainty, in full-dress as you were always meant to be, share wholly of your self with her, help her accomplish all her dreams, share your joy of living, and cherish every moment and every moment between moments that you have with her.” Again she shared with me, “That’s the only love that you will ever need, and that there was no finer love that I could ever have for her, that there was no greater love that I could ever share with her, that there was no more accomplished love, I could ever give her, then that love I already have for her.”
Mia WestSelf-imposed exploitation of my feelings, desires, and dreams, knowing how alone I’ve lived, unexplained, unexplored, unfamiliar to my family and friends. Living in fear, dreading each day, waking to a nightmare, a surreal and tormented hallucination. The secret tribulation of my life, all my born days from the cradle, life descending, perilously spiraling every moment and every moment between moments, to my final resting place.
I am going to do this by section on how I relate to what you wrote Gina. This post was really enlightening and I hope others will share their lives like you have.
This was my first 35 years of life. So much about me was hidden to the world to protect myself and what image I was trying to project. The feelings that I thought a man shouldn’t have, dreams of being someone that is not reflected in the mirror, the loneliness of not be able to be around anyone but myself in my mind in a dream that is not shared with anyone but me, myself and I. The high point of my life was birth and life only went down hill until that moment of spiritual death of the mask I worked so hard to make.
Thank you Gina, Ill have to do the next section later, after I unlock some more of what it means to me. Your writing really makes me think. And thank you for posting it here.
*HUGS*
Shame shame
for acting so
to beat upon the gentle doe
who steals from Edens garden place
a rose to wear beside her face.
Are you the guard with word in hand
Who bars the way to suffering Man?
I tell you sir to step aside
for from your gaze I will not hide.
For past thy sword’s the healing pool
where leap the lame
and there God’s fool does feast upon the body
of the Philistine.
🙂
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