WARNING - You might want a box of Kleenex handy
I WISH
“The meek shall inherit the earth.”
So if you’re too meek, what on earth do you inherit?
Maybe I was too meek and didn’t inherit anything.
I wish I’d been less meek.
If I’d been less meek, maybe then I wouldn’t be here.
I’d be there, enjoying life; with friends, a job, a family, part of life’s rich pageant.
I wish I’d been stronger.
If I’d been stronger, would I have been stronger physically or mentally? Who knows?
Anything would have been better than …nothing.
If I’d been stronger I could have fought for what I wanted — if I’d known what I wanted.
I wish I’d known what I wanted. No, that’s not right. I wanted to do what’s right.
Right for me or right for them? Was there a way that was right for everybody or was it either/or? One or the other?
There I was…nothing. Neither one nor the other.
They all look like ants scurrying about.
They don’t look happy.
I wish I’d been happy.
If I’d been happy I could maybe have made a difference.
As it was, I was useless. A doorstop. Something you ignore until it’s in your way, then you kick it aside until the next time.
A doorstop. You don’t have to feed a doorstop.
I wish I hadn’t felt guilty.
Guilty for feeling like I did. A failure. I’d failed to be what I was designed to be. They told me I failed so it must be true. I didn’t measure up, I didn’t make the grade. All that time and effort wasted, and for what?
So I could be…nothing.
I wish they hadn’t cried.
I made them cry, it was my fault.
Where did they go wrong?
I can see them now, wringing their hands, crying, wondering where they went wrong. I can see them all gathered around, hugging. They never hugged me. I felt so deprived.
I’m told that here I’m…someone. Me.
All that pain.
I wish it would go away.
That’s all they seem to have had…pain. Pain then, pain now. What it feels like, God only knows.
I wonder if they feel guilty? Guilty for feeling like they do, feeling like they failed?
I wonder who has to live with the guilt the longest, me or them?
I wish I could hold them and tell them.
They did their best, they could do no more. Not then.
I wish they could move on.
I didn’t want to inherit anything; I just wanted to be…me.
I wish they could move on. Be happy. Not guilty.
I wish I could tell them.
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Comments
Don't confuse meek with weak
it means gentleness, it doesn't mean you can't be strong as well. It also doesn't mean you can't be yourself. I saw this as a plea for self empowerment. You don't need permission from anyone but yourself to do that. Go on try it, trust in yourself and see what happens.
Good luck.
Angharad
Angharad
Thank you
Dear Angharad,
When you are a teenager in the late 1950's the world is a frightening place, especially if you're not what society would see as normal. I know that many people, not just trangendered, felt they had no choice but to turn to suicide as the only way out of their personal hell.
I never got that far, fortunately, but was close a few times.
This came to me in a very rare dark moment and seemed to sum up all the feelings I had fifty years ago. I am having way too much fun to even consider it now - but then it was a very real nightmare.
Thanks again for your comment and your good wishes.
Susie
No less
What you've written here is no less true in any time. A teenager in the fifties, the seventies, or even today. Easier certainly to find out just what in the world is different about one's self perhaps if you know where to look, but the feelings I see here is still the same. Just free to be me, but what exactly is that? Thank you for sharing!
Hugs!
grover
PS: If being meek means a gentleness of the heart and compassion for all life then the world would indeed be in better hands with the meek. :)
Being meek...
is all right, and if you have mental strength to go with it, that is even better. I know that most in the 1950's had real problems being themselves, so they stayed in the "closet". My only problem with "closets" is that there is not enough room for people when all your clothes, boxes, boots, coats, and shoes are in there. So I had no choice but to be me. I didn't care what the consquences were, I just knew I had to be me, whatever that meant.
This is a story of seeking self assurance and seeking the true you. The self doubt written here, is what we all went through, but some a lot more than others. I had self doubts once, but I lost them when I found out that I was just a normal girl in the wrong body. The psychiatrist I was seeing was way ahead of her time, and accepted me as I was. She didn't condemn, chastise, or berate me in any way, manner, shape, or form.
This story asks questions that a lot of us faced, either initially when we came out, or are still asking all these years later. But whatever the answers are, there are always ways to overcome bias, bigotry, and self-doubt.
Thank you for sharing Susan.
Be strong, because it is in our strength that we can heal.
Love & Hugs,
Barbara
"With confidence and forbearance, we will have the strength to move forward."
Love & hugs,
Barbara
"If I have to be this girl in me, Then I have the right to be."
Nicely Understated
No exclamation points, yet it forces us to give it full attention.
Sproooonggg. Which, of course, is the noise a doorstop makes when moved.
Angela Rasch (Jill M I)
Angela Rasch (Jill M I)
So do I, dear heart...
...so do I... sigh...
Love, Andrea Lena