The water is fine

Not much has happened in the past several months. Aside from me fully coming out. Other than that, nothing much.

Hello, world.

How have you been? It’s been so long since we’ve chatted.

I’ve been doing great since our last conversation, thank you for asking. Over the past few months, my wife and I have experienced both loss and gain, grief and transformation. But we’re leading a new, more joyous life, and yours truly is out and about as myself.

Oh, right. I should probably give you the quick recap, huh?

  • I came out to my family in the summer, and everyone was very loving and supportive.
  • I came out to my best friends, and they were very loving and supportive.
  • I came out at work, and I now go by my new name and identity every day that I log on.

Before I go further, I want to add this disclaimer. I recognize that I’ve been more fortunate than most. For many of our transgender brothers and sisters, the path to living our truth is strewn with loss, grief, and even danger. I’ve heard that we should expect to lose at least half our friends and family during transition. I know that the simple act of existing as ourselves in the real world is fraught with real physical and legislative dangers. So I share my experiences not to brag, but to maybe show what is possible with a little (or admittedly, a lot of luck), especially if you’re considering your own transition and worried about everything that might go wrong.

So as of the start of this year, I’m living openly as Teresa. But getting here was quite the emotional roller coasting full of fear, self-doubt, and my own special blend of incessant hemming and hawing.

As you might remember, I came out to my wife early last year, and while we’re still working on what that means within the context of our marriage, she’s been supportive and loving beyond words. But coming out to my wife was only the first of many steps. I still had to come out to my family, to friends, and to my workplace. 

Maybe for many, coming out at work is an afterthought, but for me, it was a pretty big deal. Forget the fact that we spend 40+ hours at work each week. For me, it was the fact that so much of my identity, my competence, and my self-confidence was bound to my work. I felt that, if I could be the real me at work, it could unearth something previously buried beneath layers of self-doubt and self-loathing. 

Plus, let’s face it: I spent five minutes before each video call making sure I hid any trace of what I was actually wearing beneath my sweaters and hoodies, so I’d be saving the company money by using those minutes more productively. It’d be a win-win for everyone, yay!

For months, I languished in indecision, fearful that coming out at work would be a momentously and life-changing mistake. Leading up to the day I announced my transition to my co-workers, and then to the day that I first presented as the real me on video calls, I was a nervous wreck. I questioned my decision; hell, I questioned everything about the validity and wisdom of having come out at all. For a brief, despairing moment, I began to wish that I could have stayed in the closet and spared myself all the humiliation I was certain I was setting myself up for.

My wife, patient, intrepid soul that she is, put up with my craziness throughout. She stood in the proverbial pool and assured me that the water was fine. Perched on my equally proverbial dive board (or whatever those are called because I don’t swim and hate pools and most forms of non-potable water except oceans and lakes, I love those, but pools, my god, no way, I hate them), I was skeptical that the water was fine. I was convinced it was actually molten lava and I was going to burn alive the moment I jumped. 

In the end, my wife was right. (And if you’re reading this, yes, you can gloat later.)

I made my announcement to the company. And at the start of this year, I began presenting as my authentic self.

And as you might have inferred, I’m still alive. There was no molten lava. The water was fine. Better than fine.

While I think I did lose a few formerly close colleagues as a result of my transition, the response from my colleagues was overwhelming positive. For all that I hemmed and hawed (with my own special blend, mind you) about all the relationships I would lose, I never considered the relationships I’d actually be gaining. Turns out I had more friends than I realized, and actually made several new friends as a direct result of my transition.

And while it’s too soon to say whether I’m now Employee of the Month material, I don’t think it matters anymore. Before my transition, I had little to no confidence. I struggled to speak in meetings because I was always worried about sounding stupid. I couldn’t even look in the mirror, literally.

Since coming out and presenting as my authentic self, I’ve discovered I have an easier time speaking up. I discovered a sense of agency I never had as my previous self. I’ve been told I’m smiling a lot more, and one person outright said they’d never seen me ever smile. 

Most of all, I just feel free and unburdened by the need to hide who I am, and this has freed up so much emotional and intellectual bandwidth that can now be used to, you know, doing more and better quality work. Which will also save the company money so another win-win, yay!

In retrospect, I realize I spent so many years of my life worrying about everything that could go wrong by living my truth. What if my wife leaves me? What if my family disowns me? What if my employer fires me? What if everyone I ever knew ostracizes me? What if someone steals my special blend of hemming and hawing and somehow finds a way to monetize it?!

But here I am, almost a year after coming out to my wife, and things look very different. Not many things went wrong. In fact, many things went right

And I think that’s what I hope you take away from this. 

That for all that we worry about the things that could go wrong, sometimes it helps to imagine the things that could go right, because it’s that hope that might help us harness the courage we need to live our truths. 

So if you’re on that diving board (or whatever it’s called because I hate pools and can’t swim and I really hate open bodies of water especially if I’m in them and also I hate fish), and you’re hemming and hawing about whether to jump in, I’m here to tell you…the water is fine. 

But please don’t hem and haw with my own special blend because I just finished patenting it.

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