Just One Step Taken (May 9, 2016)

A time of growth

And change

In questioning

All aspects

Of my life.

Challenging

The pre-conceived notion

What it means

To be me

By others.

Wondering

Have I suppressed

My true sexual nature

As well?

Might

I be

Straight or bisexual

Instead of

A lesbian?

Reality is

Just thinking

Of a man

Penetrating me

Is a horrific thought

That repulses me.

Yet

The thought exists.

However

Brief

It maybe.

Still

I shudder

Just thinking

About it.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: During, this early period, of my transitioning, I was rediscovering long suppressed memories of abuse (after a very traumatic and prolonged panic attack that stripped me, of whatever mental defenses, I had left), I had endured, as a child, on the schoolyard, by various bullies; and at home, by my younger brother and mom. Leaving me, to wonder, what else, have I been suppressing, as well. Must admit, am still uncovering old memories, and the pain hasn't lessened, over the years. Although, I have learned new methods, in facing, these old experiences, like writing, and using clay, as media, to do.

What My Tat Would Be (April 4, 2016)

We

All know

A family member

Or friend

Who is tattooed.

Myself

Rather

Be pierced

Than inked.

It's the needle thing

You understand.

Just the thought

Of a thousand pricks

Into my body

Injecting ink

Leaves me

With a panic attack.

But

Should I have

It done.

It would be

More than

Mere artwork

Upon a blank canvas.

As it represents

All aspects

Of my life:

My spiritual beliefs

Transitioning

From one gender

To another

And where

I come from.

Marking my healing

From an angry soul

Ready to commit suicide

Without a second thought.

To whom

I am

Now.

A person

Struggling

To understand

The wider whole

Of my soul.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note:  As I have noted, in the poem above, I have an extreme dislikes of needles, which plays havoc, with my diabetes and its monitoring.

Should I decide to have myself, inked, it would be depicting 3 dolphins, jumping through, their own golden hoops. On a moon-lit night, over an area, in an ocean. As they transition, from one gender, to the next. Denoted by, the change of their skin colour, from a pale blue, to a soft pink (male to female).

Also, marks the healing journey, I have undertaken, over the past decade, in reaching this stage, in my life. To being, able to talk about my abusive past, without shutting down emotionally and physically, from the memories, like I have, in the past. Frustrating a few therapists, as a result.

It would be placed, in the small of my back. A placement that's called, a tramp stamp.

The dolphins and the ocean, are symbolic references, to the Earth Mother, from whom, all life has sprung forth. Also, marks my ties, to water, as I was born, on Canada's Pacific coast, in British Columbia's lower mainland, and have since, lived near water, throughout my life, whether, one of North America's Great Lakes, or a nearby creek and river, in Brampton and Ottawa, Ontario.

Burning Of The Soul (March 11, 2016)

livingmypassion.wordpress.com

Tonight

I saw

What I could be

If I let my anger

Take me.

And it

Scares me

Big time.

To think

Within myself

The destructive energy

Resides.

Awaiting

To consume me

If I let it.

By expressing it

As external energy

Rather than

Internally

Like I do.

That burns like

A hot red poker taken

From the forge

Of ire

And applied

To the soul.

Burning the flesh

Away.

Until

Nothing remains

But scar tissue.

Something

I refuse

To let happen

By not walking

This path of Death.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Last Friday (March 11, 2016), I attend, the first meeting of my Male to Female support group, in over 2 years, at the 519 (a community centre that supports the LGBT+ community, in the greater Toronto area, located, in the heart of Toronto's Gay Village). During the meeting, I found myself, exposing the raw pain and anger, I have within myself, normally, have suppressed. It wasn't a pretty sight, to see.

As I refuse to let, either, my mother, or my brother, get away Scott-free, from the emotional and physical pain, they have caused, over the years.

Why Can't I Be You? (January 26, 2016)

www.motherjones.com

Courage:

[kur-ij, kuhr-]

noun

1.

the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, etc., without fear; bravery.

2.

Obsolete. the heart as the source of emotion.

Idioms

3.

have the courage of one's convictions, to act in accordance with one's beliefs, especially in spite of criticism.

source: www.dictionary.com

A gentle

But sad sigh

Escapes my lips

As tears roll down

My face.

In trying

To find

That inner strength.

That you say

Shines like a beacon

Through the darkness

I have walked

In my journey

To here.

Having lost

Everything of value

To my body and soul.

For this need

Of mine.

Correcting

A genetic birth defect

Being born

Within the wrong body

Of a male.

Which

Society views

As normal.

Despite

Viewing myself

As a woman trapped

Within a male shell

Of a body.

Won't burden you

With the years

Of abuse and bullying

That has marked my life.

Since

I realized

This inner truth

At the tender age

Of four.

Within my head

The voices

Of my abusers

Ringing out.

Cursing me

With such crude

And hurtful language.

No child should

Ever know.

Fuelling their need

For power

And control.

By expressing

Their fear

At that

Which

Is different.

Sadly

As adults

These children

Haven't learnt their lessons.

As the fire

Of transphobia

And homophobia

Burns brightly

In their souls.

Consuming

Whatever remains

Of their logic centre

In a Gray hateful ash.

And yes

There times

I have felt

My life

At risk.

In spite

Of this fact

I move forward

In my healing pilgrimage.

Uniting my body

With the feminine soul

I was born

Within.

Thus

Completing

This cycle.


Therisa © 2016

Author's note: By the age of twelve, I had attempted, at least 3 different times, to end my life, which I have never told my parents, about. My last 3 years of high school, was marked, by a nightly visit to the kitchen, where I tried to pierce my chest, with one of the meat knives, but I lack the strength to push it, into my chest cavity.


After coming out, accidently, to my mom, over the 2006 Canada Day long weekend, she told me:


"Hell would have to freeze over, and I would have to, come crawling on my hands and knees, begging her, for forgiveness, before she would think about it."


Needless, to say, I was thrown for a dark suicidal depression that lasted, the entire month of July. Nearly costing my job, as a result. With the help and support of a very special friend, I wouldn't be here, to share this, with the world. Thank you, Z.


The title of this poem, is a reference to the British Goth group, The Cure, who's dark and melodic tunes have helped me, during my bout of dark depression. Also, refers to my needing to live my life, as a woman, who is...simply elegance.