Who the hell am I?
As pretty much everyone knows, I've been struggling to find out exactly who I am with regards to those big questions of sexuality, gender identity, and how I fit into the world. Well, I came out at work today, told two of my co-workers pretty much everything about my struggle to find exactly what my gender is. I didn't want to do it, not yet anyways, but what's done is done, I guess.
It started out as normal office banter. I was talking with the two main office administrators, women in their mid-forties who had seen a lot more of life than I have. Somewhere along the way, I said something I probably shouldn't have, at least not right now, dug myself into a hole, and found myself looking at two sets of eyes probably wondering if I had finally gone off the deep end. Realizing exactly what I had done, I figured I might as well just be off with it and let the chips lie where they may.
I talked about the general malaise I had been feeling about my gender, a feeling that had been within me for a very long time. I tried not to get into too many details, as I said before, I really didn't want to get into specifics, especially there; it's not exactly a subject for the workplace.
They were supportive, and strongly suggested that I look into getting professional help, and determining if this truly was the right path for me. We talked briefly about how to tell my parents; both of them strongly suggested I hold off telling them until I had seen a psychiatrist and determined my true feelings. We talked about how to pay for what may be very expensive treatment; I'm in that awkward income bracket where I'm too rich for most subsidized mental health care, and too poor to afford medical insurance which will provide a decent amount of treatment. I guess that's one thing I'm going to have to determine - are there any programs that I do qualify for which will give me the services I know will be helpful.
Almost as quickly as the conversation began, it ended. The warehouse guy, someone who I definitely don't want to talk about all this with, came in, ending the conversation. We all returned to work, and didn't speak about it any more. I'm sure the topic will come up again; it's not exactly the kind of thing you can talk about once and forget about.
Through the whole conversation, I was of that odd mental state where part of me wanted to tell absolutely everything, and part of me wanted to tell absolutely nothing. I didn't know if they were going condemn me for my mental state, if this was going to end up getting me fired, if I was going to just break down and cry, or what. I was sweating, but at the same time, feeling great. It felt relieving to talk about these emotions I've had bottled up inside me for a long, long time. Who knows what will come of this? Nothing? Everything? Maybe that elusive happiness I've been seeking? All I know, is what's done is done, and there's nothing much I can do about it now.