When Coming Out, I can’t help but think about everything I’ve lost on the way. I feel a deep sense of mourning for lost time, lost opportunities, and shattered friendships – something I feel is not a unique trans experience. The trauma of identity crisis and hospitalization during my senior year in college, giving me no opportunity to mend any of my relationships in that same environment, is hard to even think about. A few people especially.
During that time, I had a small group of very close friends. With them, I felt like I was a part of a family, a community, for the first time. In all our dysfunction, unhealthy dynamics, and individual struggle, I was at home, literally many of us shared a home. They taught me so much through their own life struggle, brilliance, passion, and honest love. They have helped me to not only connect with my gender and sexual identity, but also my ethnic identity. They sparked my love for writing, reading theory, and activism. A love that has since (I believe) saved my life.
I can’t write this without crying, because I am honestly heart broken. My mental breakdown put a large strain on many of these friendships, some of which have not recovered (however part of this has to do with life change post college). Contact with these friends in particular have been either non-existent, or quite limited. I owe a lot to them (even though I am angry about certain things) and at a time when I am coming out, some of the people I want to talk to the most are no longer in my life. I am closer now to my blood family than ever before, I miss the place where I first learned what it meant to love without limits.
This is my statement to the abyss on how much I miss them. Our lives have changed, and I have no idea what there’s are like anymore, or if we’d even still connect. I’m not sure what this heart break is really about at times, but it hasn’t given up. I carry these people in my heart every day. Many of my poems are inspired by them, two have already been posted: Midnight Playground and Not Alone.