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Making Sense of It All

by Lee Etscovitz, Ed.D.

A Letter to My Younger Self

Dear Younger Self,

Many years have gone by, but I have never really forgotten you. I just never knew how to talk to you or what to say. I also think I wanted to forget the pain and turmoil of your situation. To tell the truth, it has taken me all these years to figure some things out and to gain perspective on it all. Maybe now I can offer some words of comfort and advice.

I realize now, more than ever, just how difficult a time you had growing up. I suppose everyone has growing pains, as they say, but you certainly had your own share of difficulties. I wish I could have been with you at so many of the times when you were frightened, lonely, desperate, and even in actual physical pain. I guess loneliness was one of your biggest sufferings. So many times you found yourself outside of things, feeling abandoned, and not knowing what to do to allay the terrible, stomach-wrenching pain and deep sadness within.

If I had been with you during any of those truly difficult moments, I would have given you a big, unhurried hug. And then you might have been able to cry openly and perhaps tell me what you were feeling deep down inside. Afterwards we might have gone to the corner drugstore, like the ones they had in those days, and sat down at the marble counter top and had a vanilla milkshake together. That would have been fun and reassuring after such trying moments.

When I think of the painŠthe invisible yet ever so present painŠthat you felt for so many years, I can only admire your courage in the face of it. Somehow, even without me around, you managed to go to school, learn music, run and swim on school teams, overcome polio, become a teacher, then a salesperson, and do a host of other things as well. And yet throughout it all you suffered privately, so privately, in fact, that no one, not even your family and friends, ever knew what was going on. Only my poems, my articles, and letters like this one, begin to tell the truth. The following poem is one I wrote not too long ago when I was remembering, and beginning to accept, some of the struggle we have both been through. It is called, "Every Time I Swat a Fly:"

Every time I swat a fly
I cry.
Oh not for smears
of black and red
that buzz into view
to be suddenly dead.
Instead,
I cry for crashes,
inside and out,
the dust and ashes
of stolen years.

Yes,
every time I swat a fly
and wipe away
the smeared remains
I hear
a silent scream
and shed
an inward tear.

Maybe the truth had to stay hidden all those years, if only so you and I could finally see it as truth and not as sickness. Perhaps it was the act of hiding and not what we were hiding which made us feel like we were somehow sick. Facts are facts, like your gender confusion. That was a scary fact, wasn't it? I mean, your body said one thing and your mind said something else. I just want you to know that I finally did something about that confusion. At last I recognized it and accepted it, though I am still in the process of reintegrating my life in terms of the gender transition that I have finally made for us. I'm sure you know what I mean when I say that the whole transitional process has not been easy, but to continue to keep it all hidden is a poor alternative, that's for sure.

I want you to know that you are always with me, that everything I do is for both of us, and that from this time forth I will always be with you, to hold your hand and to comfort you, especially in times of stress. I will also help you to meet other people who care about you, who will be your friends. Such people do exist, you know. I really want us to have some fun in life. We deserve it.

Speaking of fun, I have made a lot of progress as a writer, so that I can tell our story better. I think some people are listening to us at last. And I have improved a lot on the trumpet, so that you and I can share the sad sounds as well as the happy sounds that we have both come to know. And I know you will be glad to hear that I have dedicated myself to helping people make sense of their lives, especially people who are struggling with gender confusion.

I hope you are pleased with what I have accomplished, none of which would have been possible without you. You see, you yourself never gave up, even though you felt like it at times. You hung in there, through school, through life. It's okay with me if you want me to be with you throughout the rest of our lives together. In fact, I would feel honored to be your companion, your friend, the big sister you never had.

So let's see if we can get some good things done and even have some good times together. Besides, I need you, because you are very special. Without you I would not be the person I am today. You are like an unsung hero, but in this letter I am singing your song. Anyway, thank you for simply being you and for not giving up. Let's stay in touch.

With love always and plenty of hugs,
Your Older Self

Want to comment? Send email to Dr. Etscovitz at hmdm@voicenet.com.

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