Through The Window

Chapter Six: Iris

The trouble with having a personality trait that is different from the rest of the world is that one will wish so terribly to be understood, yet never quite will be. The fact of the matter is that the way an individual views the world is always different from their neighbor. I may sit down on a park bench and watch people walk by, while the birds above take care of their eggs in their nests, but if another man came along and sat down to watch the same thing, he would process his sights in a way that I can never reach no matter how hard he would try to explain it to me. The world is imbedded in our own mental languages that the people around us do not speak.

Something I do very commonly is try to explain myself to the world. I don't purposely go to each person and tell them information they'd rather not hear, but subconsciously I do try to explain the troubles that come with being transgender in a humane way in hopes of gaining a sense of understanding from my peers. I often fail to recognize that no amount of explaining will ever make them understand. This thought brings me back to a time before I began my transition, when I was in elementary school.

I was on vacation with my mom and sister and we were driving on the thruway in Pennsylvania. When we went on road trips my mom always broke out her pack of CDs to accompany the passing sights, and a family favorite was a Goo Goo Dolls album by the name of "Dizzy Up the Girl". At my age, music hadn't begun to impact me in a complex and meaningful way yet, but one song in particular made me break down in tears as I looked out the window and shielded my face from my family. The towering Pennsylvania mountains made me feel even smaller as the song "Iris" tunneled its way to my heart. I had no idea what the song was about, but one line resonated so deep in my psyche it almost physically ached.

"And I don't want the world to see me, 'cause I don't think that they'd understand."

I was not yet at the stage of the typical teenage "misunderstood" attitude, and as a fourth or fifth grader this feeling of seclusion frightened me. I could recognize that the distance I felt was beyond the parameters of what is considered "normal". To this day, even as I have the strength to write everything I've written, that line still holds true.

People simply won't understand. Their realities are based around the things they know and are familiar with. The fact of the matter is that no matter how hard I try or how much I write, the world will never be able to fully grasp how it really feels in my mind and my body. And I will never grasp how anyone else truly feels.

The reason I share all of this, and repeatedly state that no one will understand, is because the best I can do as an individual is talk about my life. Telling the world the reality of my experiences will not make them understand but it will let them know that I am a living, breathing human being, that has highs and lows, and that I hold a life that is unique to my own yet similar in nature to everyone else.

The way I see it, we were not asked to be alive on this Earth. We all exist here whether we can understand each other or not. While I am here, I want to enjoy my time, and to recognize that the people around me hold their own exceptional realities. As I walk through the hallways of my school or down the street, I can see through the windows of hundreds of others minds and realities. Thousands of different worlds existing at the same time. The stories and feelings I've portrayed to you are a look inside what goes on in my reality. It is the farthest I can open my window to expose my world. And I can tell you that what's inside is a wonderful blend of a distinctive, yet ordinary existence that awaits its release to a breathtaking field.