I apologise for not writing in a long time. A lot of things have happened. I drove across America in 5 days with my mother, and then flew home. Then I started my sixth class, and I’m being inducted into the honours society, so I’m busy. The trip was great. I miss her though. My mom’s job moved back to California, so she’s splitting her time here and there. That was the reason for the trip. I went back up to Minneapolis and I spent the night at my sister’s house. I missed home. I didn’t get to see anyone, but that’s okay. I know I’ll be back. It’s hard to believe this was 3 weeks ago. Anyway, I spent the night at my younger sister’s house, and she called me Blake, which was a first. I hadn’t seen her since Christmas. She’s working on my pronouns. She also hugged me twice when we had to leave. Normally, I have to twist her arms to get her to hug me. It was a great visit. Then we drove to Colorado and I spent the night with my terminally ill cousin. We also had a great visit, and she was asking me to visit when I get out of school. In April, they gave her until August. She looks incredible. The last time I saw her, she was in the hospital being weened off medicine. She’s gained weight and isn’t yellow anymore.
My aunt has a picture of me in my senior year of high school, and I pointed it out, saying look how much I’ve changed in five years. I wasn’t even talking about my transition. But my aunt says, well that’s when you were a girl. We all kind of laughed, but I felt a bit uncomfortable at the statement. Sadly, the weather was bad and we had to leave the next morning. We then drove to Arizona and I had never seen New Mexico before, so I was excited. My Mom and I talked a lot about my transition on the way. It’s not that we don’t talk about it, but we don’t talk about it a lot. Plus, my one year on T was that Saturday, and I wanted to know how she felt about it. We got to my grandparents house and spent two days with them.
Arizona was lovely. My grandparents have a retirement community there that they stay at. On Thursday morning, they have this flea market and my Grandpa MCs it. So, my Grandma asked my Mom if they wanted to go to a sewing show, and I didn’t know what else to do, so I came along. I was the only boy there, and all the ladies loved me because “not many boys come here.” My Grandma smiled and said yes he’s my grandson. I got the biggest smile on my face. We left after, and headed to California where my older sister lives. We got there Thursday night. I was ready to never drive again.
On the way though, there were some really sketchy bathrooms and I refused to go to the bathroom in them. My Mom was visibly worried when he had to stop to use restrooms. One time I got back into the car and she asked me if everything was okay, and I said, we need to get to L.A because I refuse to die in the middle of a desert.
My sister called me Blake. She also used pronouns. And we talked about things too. She said, in a lot of ways, she was glad I came out. Because I’m clearly happier, and testosterone keeps me tumor free. Also, she feels like things are better because the focus is off her being a lesbian, because it’s on my transition. I didn’t mind it. I celebrated one year on T by watching The Hunger Games with my Mom and going to the last place I lived before I came out. I also went to the Target I used to work at. They all knew. My sister and I both used to work there, and all her friends are people we used to work with, and so the word had gotten out. At first I felt awkward. I felt like, I don’t know how to relate to people anymore that knew me as Trish, because I’m worried about how they’re going to take things. Plus, I feel like some people just want to talk about the past, and I’ve closed that door in my life. I also realised that I don’t remember a lot of things anymore. I have blocked out trips. The only thing I remember about going to Hawaii in 7th grade was getting upset when my Mom bought me this really nice dress and I remember just thinking that I should swim out to the tide and float away. I hated the swim suit I wore. I looked 25. I looked like a woman, and I didn’t feel like a woman. There was just this disconnect in my brain.
It became clear to me though that a lot of people, especially in L.A county, are really good about it. A lot of people I used to work with don’t even care. I’m the one that feels awkward. I’m the one that doesn’t want to remember a lot of things. I’ve thrown away a lot of myself in the last two years. My Mom and I talked about this, too. Extensively. She said in a way she felt like she had to mourn me. I was her daughter and now I’m not. She also said that it’s not that she doesn’t wish I wasn’t queer or trans, or that she’s ashamed of me, but she saw firsthand the pain I was in. She drove across the country with me and saw firsthand how I can’t even go to half the bathrooms because I don’t feel safe. This is supposed to be this really great place, and it’s not for me. I’m ready to go to England. I’m ready to find a place where I know I’m safe. I know Manchester isn’t perfect, but driving across America, it became really apparent to my Mom and I, that I’m not meant to be here. The only place I really felt at home was in Minnesota.
But even though I’m ready to get the heck out of here and study and have my adventure, I’m not ready to throw out everything, because that’s what I’ve been doing, and that’s not the answer.