Last night was the first meeting for Chameleons in around six months. For me, it was a night of mixed emotions… not too sound overly dramatic 😉 Meeting friends I’d not seen in half a year was great. Knowing that our plans to keep open brought the mood down a little. As I sat on my own at 745, I did wonder if it might just be myself and Val, but as time ticked by, there was around seven of us all in. The masks and the distance didn’t always help, but better slightly difficult conversation than none at all.
As per Wednesday’s post, it felt a little like the door had slammed shut, just as we’d had a glimpse of what might be. Bimonthly meetings, time to catch up with friends, look out of each other, and, of course, be in a place where it’s okay to be you.
While i don’t dress at home, even with the kids back, I don’t do too badly. As I was saying to Val last night – as I did not pack a bag, but went in bloke mode – it’s as if a dial has turned within. The sometimes high heat of needing to be all of me has reduced to a low warmth. Sure, I keep my brows in check and I still feel not quite always okay in bloke mode, but there’s no hard push to act on it.
On the upside, perhaps this is a good thing given opportunities are severely limited and being denied something is different to being disinterested. But, and while I’ve rarely felt the whispered words of Imposter Syndrome, of late I’ve felt the flicker of doubt. Am I trans if I don’t dress? The truth, I think, is yes. It’s not about the clothes, it’s about how you feel and I still feel somewhere, swooping mostly happily on a swing around the gender options. Still, knees together and don’t catch your heels on landing 😉
So despite some slight emotional turbulence, all is okay. Certainly compared to folk in sightly less fortunate circumstances. I mention fortune and by chance, I happened to email the Centre’s manager to say we’d been in and I needed to pay the room hire. I mentioned that we probably wouldn’t be in again and then S. said: oh, but if you’re a support group, there are exceptions. I felt as if someone had handed me a gift. It was certainly worth a try to get the same sign off for us. So, emails are sent, cases made, and fingers crossed. There’s a few precedents that I hope play in our favour.
A girl can dream, right? Even a part time one?