It’s always difficult knowing where to begin. The start would seem fitting, but then again, I’m unsure at how to go about doing so. What I mean; when exactly was the beginning? As you might have worked out, I’ve been a little lost, and I like my philosophy.
Perhaps it best to start fresh; I should chose my beginning. I suppose that would be when I first looked into a mirror and didn’t see myself any more. Over the years, there have been many times when this has happened. In reflection and looking back through my life, I’m almost certain the first time was when I was 11.
In my room there was a full length mirror, and for many years I played about with my mother’s lipsticks. I would kiss myself in the mirror. My mum knew I used her makeup but never said a word, aside from occasionally telling me to clean the mirror. Then one day, for whatever reason, I went further. I had recently started secondary school and had already begun having issues with body image. I’d become convinced that I was ugly, and seeing all the girls in their uniforms made me very jealous of what they wore and how pretty they were.
Upon getting home, I went through my mum’s stuff and borrowed items in an attempt to put together my own version of the uniform. Once I considered it complete, I found that I was very happy with what I had created. I went to my mirror, and the reflection wasn’t me. It was someone better, someone I thought was attractive. That person was eventually going to go away and consistently did so over the years.
Fast forward 20 years and I had all but left my other self behind. I’d convinced myself that I was better for it. I had grown my beard right out, and I was happy with my wife to be. All was good in life…or so it seemed. My life cruised along and the last of Charlotte’s clothes had had been let go. Then bam, out of nowhere, I was suddenly getting divorced. In hindsight, it was for the best, but at the time, I hated it. That was all it took for Charlotte to come back into my life.
That was around six months past. Recently, I had thought that I had myself all sorted out. I finally had a term that seemed to describe how I felt, “non binary” and likely “bigender.” But even with accepting this conclusion, I realised that I was now spending more and more time as Charlotte (though a large portion of this was in an androgynous form.) For all intents and purposes, I was Charlotte more than the person I had believed I was. So much so that I have started to consider transitioning, I am even more convinced now than ever before that my body issues had been and are linked to having a male body.
I still don’t exactly know where I am, even who I am, but I do know this, I’m happy.