Brave?

Since I started both sharing and going out as Trixie, I've had lots of affirming comments from people.

"You're doing great."

"I'm proud of you."

"You're so brave."

Am I?

Am I really that brave when I can't be honest with most people with whom I interact on a daily basis? Whether justified or not, I don't feel brave when I'm hiding a part of myself every day.

To me, the truly brave ones are those who have come out completely. Just ripped the bandaid off, told the entire world who they were, and never looked back.

Brave are the ones who know that doing so will end relationships, friendships, even families. The truly brave ones are those who can go to work as their true selves; even though they know they'll face stares, ignorance, taunts, and possibly even termination of employment.

The brave are the ones who willingly put themselves on the front line of any and all hardships, come what may.

I don't see myself that way.

In my opinion, I'm a coward.

Anyone can hide almost anonymously and post about themselves daily on a blog. Anyone can share a back photo but not a face one. Anyone can go out as their true selves on the weekends while hiding behind a facade during the week. Anyone can come up with a million excuses as to why they do this to themselves.

But the truth is, they're just too scared.

Am I brave? I don't think so.

I'm just scared.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Half the Person I Used to Be

People can have lots of different vices to help when they're stressed. Some drink, some smoke, some even do drugs (I don't judge anyone enjoying a little bit of Mother Earth's great green herb. I mean the harder stuff). My vice was always food. Whenever I was stressed or sad or even just bored, I'd immediately go straight for the kitchen or pantry to find something to eat. Any good feelings from doing so would quickly evaporate whenever I would next step onto the scale. Stress eating became a big habit at one point in my life due to working in a hospital at the time and my continuing issues in my marriage. Even after I left that job and the divorce was finalized, I still used food as a coping mechanism. By the time 2023 rolled around and I was actually ready to do something about it (or so I thought), the scales read 336.5 pounds. I was up to wearing size 5XL shirts that had to be specially ordered because no local stores carried them. I talked to my doctor and they sug...
Read more

Voting Day

While it's not one of the "big ones," such as the midterms or the Presidential elections, today is still voting day. You could say that elections like this are even more important since they cover local offices that can affect you everyday. I was born and raised as a Republican because of my parents and their background. However, I became more and more liberal in my thinking once I got to college and beyond. In fact, it became clear to me that my thought process growing up had usually been socially liberal anyway. I officially changed parties to Democrat in 2016. I refused to be associated with Drumpf and the way in which he'd bastardized my idea of the Grand Old Party. I don't have to tell you how upset I was over the results from last year. That orange faced goon won lots of support by actively campaigning against LGBTQ causes, especially the trans community. Not only did his base just lap it up but it felt like Democratic leadership wasn't doing nearly enou...
Read more

Thanks Dad

 My dad was born to a hardworking father and stay-at-home mother in a tough neighborhood. Not only my father but all of his siblings served as living PSAs on what NOT to do in life. I had a family member for each issue raised: drinking, smoking, drugs, infidelity, raising children, racism. Everything they did seemed wrong to me. In fact, I could've made this blog entirely about them and would never run out of material. However, for brevity, I'll focus on my father.  He married his highschool sweetheart and had my sister. It wasn't long before that marriage ended on divorce and my father moved away. While my sister will never admit it, I've always believed that she secretly resented him for leaving her. My father eventually met my mother but it would be ten years before they married. One reason was because her family didn't really like him. They were all very straight laced while he was an alcoholic biker (I guess my mom was into bad boys). Another reason was, at one...
Read more