Hi,
How’s things with you? Hopefully going well…. and if not, fingers crossed things start to go your way soon.
No rush
Today – which is somewhat of an odd word to pick, given who knows when (if? 😁) you may be reading this! – I was Partner Taxi, as the Ever Lovely Mrs J had a medical appointment. As these things tend to do, matters overran. Which is fine, given I’m currently between jobs and I had nothing in my diary for the morning.
Rather than clock watching and fretting about getting back, I had the opportunity – nay, gift – of nowhere I needed to be. Instead, I had a merry wander around the grounds; enjoying the bright winter sun, turn of the last few leaves, and watching the squirrels dash. What a fab way to spend a morning.
Previously, I would’ve been worried about missing meetings or being judged for being offline.
When another’s story nudges your own
Earlier this week I happened to be listening to a podcast featuring the comedian, Stuart Lee. This was an interview about his life, and some of those ‘Do you prefer A or B?’ questions, that can be useful to promote interesting and unusual conversational meanderings. Link here if this is your bag. Mind you, the link is still there if Stuart’s humour is not your bag 🙃
At one point, the famous Aristotle quote popped into the flow of conversation:
Give me a child until he is seven and I will show you the man
Aristotle
Now I’m not going to analyse what the philosopher meant by this, but I will write about What Lynn’s Brain Did Next 🙂
The background was Stuart talking about his early life; include nerd loves – “hello there” – of comic books, sci-fi, and related geek awesomeness. That and the continued…. and I may be projecting here…. not fitting in. Being the outsider. That certainly struct a chord: for me, that was sometimes by choice and sometimes the In Group going ‘this is not for you’. So youth goes and so I’d find my own loves & interests as I grew a little wiser.
But, coming back to the quote, it made me think who was I as a seven year old and how different is that kid to the ‘man’ – quotes intended – years later?
I think at seven, I was – and memory is an unreliable guide here – very definitely somewhat fluid in the world of gender. Or, at least, I had worked out that there were rules for boys and rules for girls. Oddly, I couldn’t work out why there were only two choices. But, hey, I was seven and I had much to learn about the world. Plus, the 70s were not exactly the enlightened times that the 2020s are.
Unlearning?
So, unlearning? Pause – momentary distraction of what I thought was a made up word: it isn’t:
Unlearning is discarding outdated or harmful information, habits, or beliefs that no longer serve us. It’s about freeing up cognitive space to make room for new, more relevant knowledge and perspectives
Psychology Today
Yeah, so if I think to the use of Aristotle’s phrase and in the context of Stuart’s interview, what I think I can say, is I had learned to mask and hide who I was. Both as a queer kid and possibly as a neurospicy one too. Well, there’s two strikes in the You Are Different bingo card 😉
I think I spent a lot of my years – as children/teens do – trying to fit in, and not quite managing it. I think what really helped is finding another group of folk – who like me – loved weird films, humour that others didn’t like, horror/thriller stuff, RPGs, odd music, and I guess, what we’d probably now refer to as Geek Culture.
But as the years pass by, perhaps I am leaning more towards the Nature and not so much towards the Nurture. Not that my folks did me wrong – what could two folk in the 70s do, with a kid when modern understanding around neurodiversity and gender did not exist?
I think I am unlearning those masks. The language, how I act, my openness with those dear to me, personal grooming & dress, and sticking my head above the political parapet; I think these are me changing. In the poetic words of someone far more, uhh, poetic (Ed: FFS, Lynn):
The living self has one purpose only: to come into its own fullness of being, as a tree comes into full blossom, or a bird into spring beauty, or a tiger into lustre.
D. H. Lawrence
Here’s to new growth and to bloom.
L x
Hi Lynn
Oddly (because I always think oddly – or at least tangentially) I was think about early memories and reminiscences after reading your earlier Aide Memoire post (https://yatgb.co.uk/2025/12/aide-memoire.html) and a couple of posts from Sue (https://suerichmond.blogspot.com/) looking back to photos of her earlier self. That took me back to one of my own posts (https://susie-sometimes.blogspot.com/2022/03/differently-wired.html) about when I first realised my own feelings about gender might be cross-wired and that this was something it was safer to hide and keep to myself.
I don’t think I managed to unlearn the idea that this part of me was something to be ashamed and afraid of until relatively recently, and that has as much to do with changes in non-judgemental terminology, awareness and attitudes to LGBT+ issues. At least up until the last twelve months or so, before the anti-trans backlash kicked in to overdrive.
(I was going to describe this as a swing of the pendulum but that implies the correction (when it comes) will take roughly the same amount of time, but unfortunately I suspect it’s more likely akin to a stock market panic, where a sudden sharp drop takes a much longer time to adjust back. )
Oh, we like oddly round here. Tis a good thing, IMO, to look and consider things differently.
I feel that living with shame of who we are, is an awful burden. That acidic weight that seeps into our being; tainting joy and curdling who we might be. To face it is, I think, one of the hardest things we can do, and to be free of it, one of the best.
Good to hear that you found peace and accepted who you are 🩷 That’s fab news.
Thank you for such a generous, reflective post, Lynn.
I loved the opening image of being “Partner Taxi” and then being gifted a morning with nowhere else to be, the squirrels, winter sun and unhurried wandering felt quietly perfect.
That sense of learning the rules, then learning to mask in order to survive them, will resonate with so many people, especially those who grew up feeling a little (or a lot) outside the in-group.
I was particularly struck by what you said about unlearning. There’s something both brave and hopeful in naming the masks and gently setting them down over time, in how we speak, dress, show up, and allow ourselves to be seen. It doesn’t feel like becoming someone new so much as allowing more of what was always there.
And that D. H. Lawrence quote is a beautiful way to frame it all. Here’s to new growth, to blooming in our own time, and to those quiet mornings that remind us who we are becoming.
Have a nice week
Lotte x
Thank you, Lotte. After I posted it and wandered off, I started to second guess things. I suppose it’s that self doubt around the material we produce, especially when it’s personal history.
Given your point around rules, masking, and others; I’m now thinking how wide that might be. While my experiences might feel unique due to how I arrived there, I dare say there’s many folk – not all trans either – who felt the same way. Maybe there’s more that unites is, than pushes us apart as people.
To be able to be yourself: authentic, honest, true, and to accept who you are; what a gift and a noble goal that seems.
even before 7 I was gender confused. Or not confused. I knew how I wanted to dress.
Welcome to YATGB, Chris, and thanks for your comment.
I guess this shows our instinctive grasp of identity, and that maybe, in a kinder world, more folk would have the space & story l support to be themselves.
My experience actually hit a different way. I didn’t get to figure things out at seven. Or even seventeen. My childhood was taking care of a terminally ill parent. There wasn’t space for self-discovery. I just followed the script and did what I was “supposed” to. Only now, as an adult, am I finally unlearning all that. And I appreciate the reminder that blooming doesn’t have an age limit.
I think we’re all different – not better or worse, just different 🩷
IMO, there’s no prizes for starting early or getting where you think you need to be. I think the only thing that matters, is you find where and what you need.
I grew up being different, but didn’t realise I was neurodiverse or queer until much later, but I did learn to mask and hide, just as you describe. And I guess I still am doing that in many areas of my life. So this post definitely resonates with me. Thanks for writing it.
Dee xx
You’re very welcome, Deeanna. I hope you’re finding things easier in life, now.