I’m learning more what’s Forbiddden.
Can’t talk about the queer, can’t talk about the crazy.
What’s almost worse is the flat affect I get when I talk about anecdotes: One of the bus drivers, turns out, is just a big an Elvis fan as I am. I put myself under all sorts of shields when I told my aunt that one silly thing.
At home with the immediate family, I am used to pretty much everything I say in that sense, small talk, tastes, opinions, anecdotes, get skewered for being wrong, stupid, bad.
(I said all this in group, the question was where are we at, is group helping. I mean two people were on my side, but then the last person to share was closed mouthed as anything. We both do that.. and this time I didn’t, and they still did, and I felt like my sacrifice was for naught, like I was betrayed, haha)
Okay, but anyway. The wrench.
I emailed my aunt about a photo on facebook, asked her to take it down, pre transition, whatever. She emailed me back, hasn’t been on facebook for over a year, but she’ll try to take it down, etc.
But she called me by my birthname. In email. Emailing me, typing out my birthname. This is weird and concerning, to me. It’s been four years, she’s seen me as I am now, -feminine I am not- and she wrote it down in an email. I didn’t even care in an it’s about me, *dysphoriaaaa!* way. I mean I did, but to myself, it was just a twinge of ‘eeecch’ – as it goes, you know. I was outwardly concerned about her, so I called up dad, and mentioned it. That’s the wrench: I brought up the queer, more specifically the trans. I knew it’d be awkward, I knew it’d bring things to a stop and there would be a ‘smell’ for awhile from, danno, rainbow farts =D
But I was worried about my aunt, because, and dad said so too, it was ‘disconcerting’, that she did that.