a little soiree......

I'll be good ~ Jaymes Young

I was all set to kick off my first story with a dramatic deep dive into my latest relationship, the one that turned my world upside down and played my heartstrings like a sad violin. Fucking boo!!  But then, life decided to throw a change in direction in the last 24 hours. Some recent conversations compelled me to wander in a different direction.  I realized that sharing my story actually helped the mother sitting across from me, at least I hoped it did.  Turns out, detours can be unpredictable but noteworthy.

First off, let me introduce you to my sanctuary, a place I lovingly call my second home. The doors are always open for me to sit, chat, process life, vent, and occasionally cry. Sometimes, I even get roped into some chores, but hey, it keeps me out of mischief. This wonderful haven belongs to G, a woman who’s been a cornerstone of the lesbian community for as long as I’ve known her, oh about 27 years. Her home is a revolving door of love and incredible people.  I’ve been officially delegated the permanent fixture in the backyard.

Last night, G hosted a little soiree with some of her long-term lesbian friends, most of whom I had only met briefly before. Last night, we all connected, and as the conversations flowed, we talked about life and, of course, my journey as a transman. I’m an open book and happy to share my experiences.

One of the mothers at the gathering began sharing about her children. She was particularly distressed about her eldest, with whom she had once been very close. They had grown distant over the years, causing her a lot of pain. As she shared her story, tears streamed down her face, and I could feel her sorrow. A mother’s love for her firstborn is incredibly special.

As she got choked up and tried to share her story, she kept apologizing for crying. In my head, I was thinking, “Let it flow.” We were all sitting in an empathy circle, and I was pretty sure we could all cry at the drop of a hat—nobody was judging. My own empathy level is off the charts; I can definitely feel someone else’s pain.

(Side note) Not to go off track but let me share a funny memory. An ex-girlfriend of mine once came home from work, completely upset but determined not to cry. As she was pouring out her troubles, she glanced over and saw me, tears streaming down my face. She asked why the hell I was crying, and I told her I was shedding tears for her since she wasn't. Fast forward to today, nothing’s changed much. I’m still your designated crier, always ready to share in the emotional rollercoaster. So, as this mother was sharing her story with me, I scooted closer, took her hand, and tried to be all stoic and supportive. Spoiler alert: I failed and ended up getting all choked up with her.

Her eldest daughter, at 17, had found a girlfriend and wanted to move in with her—what many in the lesbian community humorously call the classic U-Haul move. The mother struggled with this decision because her daughter was so close to finishing high school. This disagreement created a rift between them that has persisted.

Over the years, the mother learned that her daughter had embarked on a journey of self-discovery, transitioning and changing her name. Moving forward in the story, I’ll use he/him pronouns. From what I understand, he hasn’t directly told his mom about these changes; she has only heard about them through family members.

The mother’s heartbreak was palpable as she shared her confusion and sorrow about the distance between them. She was trying to navigate her feelings while respecting her son’s new identity. I suggested that she let go of the dead name and embrace the new one, even though they haven’t been able to bond yet. This acceptance could be a step towards healing.

I also recommended that she send him a simple “I love you, son” card. This small gesture might open a door to communication and help rebuild their relationship in his new life. Through our conversation, I hoped to offer her some comfort and a path forward, just by sharing a little snip of my journey.

As I sat there, reminiscing about my relationship with my mom, who, by the way, is my number one fan! I shared with this other mother that even though my mom loves and accepts me wholeheartedly, I sometimes struggle with feeling like I’ve disappointed her. It’s my own mental quirk, not hers. When I’m around my mom, it feels like I haven’t hit the mark she had in mind, like maybe she envisioned something different for my life. I sometimes worry I've let her down because I’m not the little girl she used to dress up in frilly dresses or bribe with cash to wear skirts to flute recitals which of course I did with my fancy airwalk high tops, it was a true sight to see, I think I may have a photo somewhere lingering around. Fast forward to now, and I’m rocking facial hair and a strong build, far from the little girl she raised. My mom isn’t ashamed of me at all, in fact, she’s super proud and shows her love in every way she can. Still, this internal struggle is real, and I’m doing my best to manage it.

To my trans family: whether you're just kicking off your journey or cruising through it, remember, you're not the only one transitioning – everyone in your circle is along for the ride! So, find a lounge chair and bring some patience and understanding. Our families might struggle with pronouns, especially moms who went through the labor (literally) of raising us. The compassion you crave, you've got to sprinkle around too. This adventure is thrilling and full of highs, but it's got its share of potholes. Be true to yourself, keep it real, and don't get too salty if others aren't quite matching your speed. I zoomed ahead with my decision but took it slow and steady, letting everyone catch up. Trust me, they'll get there!