Coming out

I always underestimated coming out, when I thought I was cisgender. I came out as agender, telling I didn’t feel like a man, which wasn’t that hard.

Why do I think it is hard this time? Why? This is the question I have been asking myself for a couple of weeks now.

I have come out before. I told people I liked that I was wiccan. I have told them I was agender. I have told people so much about me. I have told people I am transgender, which was easier than the people that really matter.

My girlfriend knows. She is closest to me, and needed to know from the beginning. My counselor knows, as she had to plan some appointments for me (as I can telephone myself, but I dread it). My psychologist knows, as she had to refer me to an endocrinologist. The only people that don’t know yet, are my in-laws. and That is what I fear the most.

I have no contact with my own family anymore, except occassional telephone calls by my sister. I don’t dread telling my own mother, as she doesn’t impact my life anymore and I couldn’t care less how she reacts to my coming out. She is out of my life.

I am trying to write a letter, but how do you write about something that has been something you hold so close, something that you can not protect with building a wall around? How are you completely vulnerable to the people you have a good relationship with and this can completely fuck it up.

Not even with coming out with my autism diagnose did I dread it at all. Me, being autistic, is an integral part of me, and the same goes for being transgender, but why do I have a problem with this? I am not ashamed, not in the least bit, but my autism is something that is inside me, something people only see when I let them, when I tell them about it. Me being transgender is now something safely hidden behind my male exterior, safely protected against all transphobia, that might hurt it. It has to come out. It has to be given space to develop. The eggshell has cracked, but that little birdy, needs to develop in a phoenix. Into a fiery bird of healing and magic.

I don’t know why I am afraid. Maybe I am afraid that they will twist the neck of the little birdy, but why do I fear. Death is nothing for a phoenix. That phoenix will simply rise again. Why do I fear it then? The death of that phoenix will just be another phase until it is born again, bigger and better than ever. Nothing will take it down. Nothing will stop it.

It is my bird, and I will show it to the world. But it has to be nurtured. It has to be given time to grow up, and I hope those around me will give me time and space to help it develop into a healthy bird of magic and healing.

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