Living the Non-Binary Life

2.) Wedding

Okay so the day before yesterday I went to my dads' best friends' wedding, and I absolutely refused to wear a dress.

I've had a pair of really nice black slacks that I let aunt Susan borrow for a job interview and without even asking me she just gave them back. Like "Oh yeah, here." So I looked at grandmere and asked her if I could get a nice white button down shirt and she said of course.

A trip to jcpenny later and I accidentally grabbed the xl instead of the xs because they were literally right next to each other on the rack and I was in a hurry because they were closing.

The next morning I return the shirt and get an xs and look for white sports bras to wear underneath. I didn't want one with spaghetti straps, plus I thought the more expensive ones were half off. Turns out it was buy one get one half off. So my grandmere bought a pair of slacks and I have two bras and a shirt.

Then while we're in the car my cousin calls from Darien lake and asks us to pick her up. An hour and a half later we all finally get home and I have forty five minutes to get ready.

The pants were easy. The top... not so much. I put both bras on, one backwards to flatten my chest more, an inside out form fitting mickey mouse t-shirt, and then two tank tops to cover the design, and finally the new dress shirt.

Right when I'm done figuring all this out and gelling some of my hair to keep it down, grandmere said she had to pick up my cousin. She lives right next door across our pond so I figure I have two minutes to pack my bag.

Unfortunately I needed one because I was three days late, so.... yeah. I needed shoes so I actually walked to my dads to grab a nice brown pair of dress shoes that I've had for maybe five years. I grew into them nicely and that makes me happy. So I walked back to grandma's house, like a five minute walk, and put a bandaid on my foot because for some reason my one foot always gets a blister. They get here as I'm just putting the last thing in my bag. About an hour later we get to the wedding and have to park further down than the food tent, maybe about a quarter mile down the lake.

When we're done parking, a man from the wedding party tells us that we have to walk across the lake to the ceremony, which was probably a little over a mile.

We start walking over this hill, and as soon as I get to the top, I can see my dad about a hundred feet away just absolutely beaming. He practically runs to meet us and immediately turns around to take a selfie with me. He hugged me and said "I am so proud of you. You look so comfortable in your own skin." I appreciate my father in this moment more than I ever have in my entire life.

So we get through the ceremony and he starts introducing me. I must say, this is personally my biggest pet peeve since accepting myself and coming out. If there's anything to make me feel dysphoric, it's this.

"This is my daughter."

"She must be daddy's little girl."

"She always has been."

"How old is she?"

"She's beautifil."

"She's simply gorgeous."

Eventually dad started introducing me as his youngest, but it was already too late. Everyone already got their first impression of me. Oh yeah, did I mention my period happened to start halfway through the day?

So I'm feeling very dysphoric and horrible and I go into a porta potty to collect myself.

Dad and I go on a nice peaceful quiet boat ride on the lake for about an hour where we have a very much needed talk. I told him I've developed an eye twitch just for midgendering, which started before I even identified myself because my boyfriend is ftm. I tell him I understand he can't just stop seeing me as daddy's little girl, but that it hurts to hear so much.

He told me he was incredibly proud of me. He showed me a picture of myself and I was so shocked. I actually looked confident for the first time in my entire life. I told him I never understood why I never thought I looked nice in dresses, even as a child, and that now I understand why. I was never supposed to be in dresses to begin with.

We talked about how my mother and siblings forced me to grow up without showing any emotion. I was a child, so of course I failed. But they threw it in my face every time. Eventually I didn't ever talk to anyone that I thought loved me because I didn't want to give them anything to use against me. I didn't want them to pick at my emotions, to take away the things I loved.

Couple that with not understanding why I didn't fit in with my peers, not knowing why literally everyone picked on me, the only person I knew I could truly trust over two hundred miles away, and you get a very depressed suicidal child.

I think I knew I was gay early on. Middle school early. Maybe elementary school early. I just didn't know. You know?

So I struggled to convey the shackles, and just how heavy they were. I had to do a lot to throw them away and keep them away. It took over a year of guilt and hatred and loneliness and therapy. It took the help of my friends and family and boyfriend. It even took me a long time to even accept their help, because in the back of my head I couldn't stop thinking that they only want something from me and I won't know what it is until it blindsides me and I'm left heartbroken.

But I'm better. Even though I felt severely dysphoric for a while, that was the best day of my life. Talking with my dad allowed me to step back and reflect on just how far I've gotten. I know I'm never going to stop having to go through dysphoria, but I'm glad that I was able to free myself enough to explore and identify myself, and to tell the caring and loving people around me how I am, how I'm feeling.

Thank you for reading. I'll probably explain more about my mother later, or as I call her, bob.

Have a fantabulous day all you amazing beans!

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Be true, stay you ❤❤

~Day Dreamer~