Two years ago I went through a very hypefeminine and hypersexual time. It was great for some of the men in my life, but they didn’t see the pain I was hiding behind the clothes and makeup. Right before I turned 40, I finally had the courage to come out as more masculine, yet genderqueer/nonbinary. Basically, I don’t feel much gender at all. And, suddenly, when I started thriving, the same men who benefitted from my hypersexual period just…dropped me.
I had a rough therapy session yesterday, and I brought this up. I am more me than I have ever been, yet who and what I’m attracted to does not align with my presentation (for the record, he told me to change the tone of that statement and make it an adventure). I don’t think people really understand what I had to let go of to be myself. What I still have to face, every day, because I don’t ascribe to traditional roles in any aspect.
The problem is, that doesn’t mean that I’m not still a princess, a kitten, a little girl/boy who needs caring and discipline. On top of fearing just regular rejection, I need to concern myself with making sure someone’s interest isn’t actually a trap, or a fetish. I’m still me and I still deserve to be valued.
I actually cried quite hard with my therapist, which is a huge thing because very few have seen me cry. I have had to mourn friendships, relationships, connections… so much in the last year and a half, but I finally don’t feel like slitting my own wrist. That’s a win. But there are days that existence just hurts because I feel unaccepted and left behind. Forgotten.
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