Believe it or Not!

Peeling the layers off your personal onion. Something everyone does to some degree or another throughout life.

For me, it has been oft humiliating. Oft disappointing.

Finally, it is paying off. Gone is all the mental anguish, the physical tension, the torturous 3rd degree sunburn of dysphoria. Gone is most of the, for lack of a better term, man.

Transition is a mind fuck. The mental shit that comes with it is so deadly and scary, and when I have lashed out at innocent others, there was no way they could properly understand. And yet, knowing these things weren’t exactly me, but rather residual bullshit and tension from a long and tortuous life before, I accept this: People just don’t and won’t ever quite get it.

I mean, I want to atone, I want to make things right… but also I am like, “Fuck this. No. That wasn’t quite me. It was me filtered through the rank, smelly and rotting layers of my outer onion. Only I have really had a sense of what was in my core this whole time, like a carrot encouraging me forward.”

Yes, I just mixed vegetation metaphors. Move along.

I don’t have life experience growing up with my friends teaching each other how to female. I’m like the 2nd Greatest American Hero… not as cool as the Greatest… but still going without an instruction manual. Making this up as I go along.

There is only so much guilt, shame and regret a human should burden. So I am dumping much of mine. Letting it drip away down the drain where it belongs.

I’m sure many of you deserve an apology from me for my behavior at one time or another, and I struggle with owning what is mine to bear.

I’m sorry for drinking. I’m sorry it made me ugly in the eyes of so many.

And part of me wishes I could challenge the lot of you to see the world through my eyes at the time and see if you could have done any better with what I had to work with. You’ll never know. And I may never say or do the things that make you feel like I have learned my lessons.

And that is unfair to us all.

I wasn’t in proper, functional, mental alignment. And I can’t continue to burden those regrets, shames and responsibilities now that I am. It is unproductive and irresponsible considering where I now need to go, now that my head finally is screwed on right.

I will always be at the mercy of medicine. The last few years of Hell were triggered by running out of hormones and then trying to get back on track with my dysphoric mind. A mind that will do anything in its power to prevent me from doing what is right while chasing people who care for me, who are close to me, away.

If I ever hurt you with my assholery, I am sorry. You are not alone. I live with all your ghosts rattling around in my brain as constant reminders. And it is often unbearable.

And that is about as much of an apology as I have in me, even though I am sure many feel they probably deserve more for putting up with me all these years.

I have peeled away enough layers of my onion to finally be in a place where I can stop and smell some roses. And my God, after 41 orbits around the Sun, it is past time I do. And if anyone wants to come along, I have a feeling this part of the ride will be MUCH better than the last.

Thanks to all friends, family and even Trump supporters who have been there for me. Patient with me. Forgiving.

I may not be great at apologies, but there is one thing I know for certain after all of this:

I carry all of you in my heart, and for better or for worse, I am incapable of letting you go. You are in my core. You’ve kept me alive more than once. At my darkest hours, love is sometimes all I’ve had, even when all that’s remained of it is the ghost of a memory tarnished by shame, regret, and that odd, yet unmistakable waft of rotting onion.

Thank you.

Aloha,
Tori Barron

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