The Little Prince and the Fox

One of my closest transmasc/non-binary friends here in Colorado just shared with me the song “Man of my dreams” by transmasculine artist Ezra Michel and it instantly became a favorite of mine — I resonate with it completely, every single line of the song feels like it’s my story, how I feel now… 

I am all of a sudden the man of my dreams (physically but not only)… and boy, it feels so wonderful!

“

All of a sudden I’m the man of my dreams

One, two, three, pick up the trash off the street

Call up my grandmother, ask how she’s doin’

Same old story but I guess she’s quit smoking

I am all of the sudden the man of my dreams

Cut all the ties to the folks who hurt me

The ones that I hurt, I’ll make amends

Picking up garbage again and again

All of a sudden I’m the man of my dreams

Water my house plants at least once a week

Some leaves fell but I asked for forgiveness

They told me it hurt but they’ll be alright

I am all of the sudden the man of my dreams

Cut all the ties to the folks who hurt me

The ones that I hurt, I’ll make amends

Picking up garbage again and again

All of a sudden I’m the man of my dreams

I’ll comfort my friends and respect boundaries

Look in your eyes and ask you on a date

I’m cookin’ you dinner, I’ll make you a plate

All of a sudden I’m the man of my dreams

No sneaky motives, no undisclosed schemes

Standing up tall while I hold space for you

I’ve got so much privilege, ain’t got much to lose

All of a sudden I’m the man of my dreams

“

It’s weird, this feeling of naming and asking for what I want. 

It’s also confusing, dizzying, and terrifying in many ways — it puts so much responsibility, so much pressure, on one, on oneself, on me. 

If I name, ask for, actually go for, what I want, then I’m (more) responsible for the outcome, for the result(s), and therefore for the possible ensuing failure(s) as well… 

I’m halfway through my postdoc and have reached the point where my advisor & I are ready to start thinking about the next project for me to work on, while I also need to think about what will happen to me professionally, and what I want to do in my professional as well as personal life, in a year from now when my postdoc position comes to an end. A week ago, my advisor told me to start thinking about what project, or topic(s), I’d like to work on next — something that had never really happened to me professionally, certainly not in academia. My first (inner) reaction was panic — impostor syndrome through the roof once again and a feeling of being totally lost in an ocean of stuff I didn’t know and didn’t even know how to handle. Once I got that sense of panic under control, I actually felt empowered (while still somewhat in disbelief). I actually had the opportunity to decide what I wanted to do with my research, with my professional path, with my daily professional life/tasks?!? My advisor actually considered me “good enough” to make my own research decision?!? Hardly believable to me… Eventually, I was able to tap into my own scientific interests and find some plausible connections to our grant/project in directions that genuinely interest me despite diverging from my advisor’s expertise. The next step was going to be communicating this to my advisor in our meeting this morning — another huge hurdle for me. Which I faced and went for. With the (to me surprising) outcome of my advisor being very enthusiastic and supportive. So, OMG, now I’m really responsible for my own professional/scientific path?! Am I really an adult “scientifically/researchwise”? 

I still don’t feel like I am…

I guess it’s also that I’m not used to standing up for myself in these ways… Saying “I want this” or “I want to do this” just seems like such a “luxury” to me… 

Too many years of repression? Too many years of having to get just my basic survival needs covered and thus no bandwidth, not even an inkling of an idea, that I might actually ask for “more”, want “more”, and even be entitled to it, have the right to “more”, maybe…?

My counselor is also encouraging me to start thinking about, and actually naming, what I want within relationships, especially romantic ones. 

It’s not the first time that a therapist, after listening to me repeat dozens of times “I should…”, “I could…”, “I can…”, “I cannot…” with respect to some relationship or other, has bluntly asked me, “OK, but what do you want?” (meaning “from this person or relationship”). 

So here’s the list of my “wants” with respect to relationships that bubbled up in me yesterday: 

I want to see my friend from Iowa again as soon as possible, and spend some relaxed, close time together like we did when she visited me as a surprise on my trip four weeks ago — maybe that could work over Fall break from school in October?

I want to see my non-binary friend with whom I slept in California in June again as soon as possible, even if that might not be feasible until sometime next year given both of our schedules and commitments. 

I want to see where this relationship with my new transfem climbing friend goes, allowing it to deepen, allowing for closeness, but prioritizing climbing with her. 

I want to find the courage to go up to a cute person, like the gay guy I saw in downtown the other day, and ask them if they want my number. 

I want to go out dancing at a queer club again as soon as possible, and in particular on Friday, Sept. 15th for the New Moon, to celebrate. 

I want to shelve this thing with my genderqueer European friend until I’m ready to pick it up again — and I want to pick it up again someday, and I know I will eventually, but I won’t force myself. I will respect my own boundaries and shelve it for now. 

I want to find and connect with people who love me the way I want/need to be loved, who respect my needs & boundaries, with whom I don’t feel forced for any reason to push my own boundaries. 

This latter wish is already fulfilled in many beautiful, joyful, stable, and mutual ways with so many wonderful (platonic) friends that I’m blessed to have and who keep showing up for me. I would like this particular wish to also be fulfilled within romantic/sexual relationships.

In our session last week, my therapist suggested I write a love letter to myself, i.e. what I would like or need to hear from a lover / loved one, what it means to me to be loved (especially in the context of romantic relationships, but not only). 

Here’s what came out of me yesterday, flow of consciousness:

“

Dear A., 

I love you. 

That means I will respect your boundaries, always, not only your physical/sexual boundaries, but also your emotional ones. 

I will respect & abide by your requests involving your needs & boundaries, even if/when I don’t fully understand them. If/when I don’t fully understand them and/or they hurt my feelings or go against my own needs/boundaries/instincts, I will let you know in a clear but gentle and loving way to try and find solutions and/or compromises together that work for both of us from a place of maturity and authenticity, avoiding manipulative behaviors/communication. Also, if/when I do/say something that I think might push/disrespect your boundaries and/or hurt you, I will acknowledge it and try to justify my behavior a priori. 

I love you, A. 

Thant means I’ll be there for you as long, or as much, as I can, and I will let you know, possibly a priori and in a non-manipulative way, when I cannot be there for you. 

I’ll be a safe place for you to come home to. I’ll let you be your wild self, let you go on your adventures, let you have time & space for yourself, and I’ll be here — your safe haven — when you come home. 

I love you, A.

That means I’ll be by your side when you need someone to lean on. I’ll be there to plan a life with you to the extent that is good and healthy and authentic to both of us. I’ll be there and go with you to your parents funeral, if that’s what you need. I’ll be there with you when you go back to Europe, if that’s what you want/need. I will hold your hand on that long flight and walking down the street. I will share my bed and my meals with you. 

I love you, A. 

That means I’ll always tell you exactly and clearly how I feel about you — what exactly “loving you” means to me, “how” or in what way I love you.  

I will tell you clearly, openly, honestly about other important people in my life and how/what I feel for them. I will introduce you to the other important people in my life, if you want to meet them (& if they feel up to it). I’ll be available and happy to meet the other important people in your life, too, if you want to share that with me. 

I will not lie to you, including “lies by omission”. I will openly share and discuss my views on relationships, friendships, polyamory, etc. with you in an adult, honest, authentic way, keeping in mind that we might have different feelings & views and also that our feelings/views might change over time and will need constant, mature, open, and honest communication. 

I love you, A. 

That means I will put effort and care into building a relationship with you, building and maintaining trust, and rebuilding it if/when it will inevitably be broken because we’re both human. I will be open and brave and kind in facing conflict together; I will brace myself for your anger and share my own emotions, too. I know that “trust” to you mainly means not being lied to, not having things (other relationships, feelings, emotions, thoughts) hidden to you or popped on you suddenly and after-the-fact. So I will put effort & care into building and maintaining this kind of trust for you. And I will make very clear to you what type of trust I need to build & feel on my end. I’ll be as clear as I can to explain my needs and fears and wishes to you in a non-manipulative way. 

I love you, A. 

That means that I will keep my word to you. And I will let you go if/when you need to go.

“

Yesterday I spent my whole Friday evening with a relatively new but also already very good friend — a friendship that started within the queer/trans community, spurred mostly/initially by our both being climbers (& very much outdoors, trad climbers), and that seems to be turning into a nice, well-rounded friendship that includes meals/drinks and a lot of deep, personal conversations during/after the climbing. We spent several hours together last Sunday, first climbing together and then going out for beer&dinner&chat afterwards. And almost six hours together last night in a similar way but this time having takeout dinner at her place, which allowed for more chill time together and more personal/intimate conversations that one cannot really have at a brewery. 

I enjoy spending time with this person, both the climbing and the conversations and the spontaneous hugs feel very comfortable with her — since the very beginning I’ve sensed the possibility of a deep friendship between us as I have with other people in my life, an instinctive liking and closeness and safety from the start. With this person I’ve also wondered a few times, first at the very beginning and now the last couple times we’ve spent together, whether she might feel some attraction towards me that goes beyond affectionate queer friendship or climbing camaraderie. 

When I brought this up to another friend of mine and to my counselor both of their comments/questions to me were, “How do you feel about her? Are you attracted to her?” 

A few months ago, after the first time I had sex with my genderqueer European friend, when I was telling one of my closest non-binary friends about it, one of their first questions to me was, “Had you ever considered having sex with them, or felt that attraction towards them, before they showed or made clear their sexual/romantic interest towards you?” 

With my genderqueer European friend, in fact, I hadn’t. I hadn’t felt or even considered/asked myself whether I felt any sexual/romantic attraction towards them until they made that step or proposal towards me. 

With this (relatively new) trans climbing friend I also never asked myself whether I felt any attraction towards her until I sensed a wish on her part to get closer or open up towards me. Her opening up or coming closer is probably only on the level of trans/queer/climbing camaraderie and due to us both being mostly the affectionate, touchy-feely, hugger type of person — or, at least, that’s how I envision it or interpret it right now. Or maybe that’s what feels comfortable to me with her, that’s what I want to have with her. Or that’s what I think I want to have with her — climbing buddies who can have dinner together and close, personal conversations, and affectionate hugs. And maybe sit hugging or snuggling on the couch while chatting — or would that be too much (for me)? 

I don’t know. And the reason it’s so hard for me to even ask myself this type of question, let alone answer it, is because most of the times I’ve been the “object” of attraction or interest rather than the “subject”, because that’s how I was socialized (as an AFAB person). I’m not talking about the random objectification from strangers here. I’m talking about situations that eventually led to some form of connection or relationship or intimacy. In my entire life, there have been only two or three situations in which I was the one explicitly taking the first step with the person that I was sexually/romantically interested in: three guys I liked & loved and with whom I made the first step very clearly and explicitly. In every other situation I’ve only “sat back” and replied “yes” or “no” in response to the other person’s showing sexual/romantic interest towards me. 

Is that why it’s been so hard, maybe even impossible, for me to find the “right” person(s) with whom to have truly lasting romantic partnerships until now? Because I haven’t really taken the time to first understand & clarify within myself and then seek out the persons that I really want or feel attracted to? 

Is the main solution to my problem of being unable to find/keep a long-lasting romantic partner the shift on my part from being a “passive object” to an “active subject”? 

Is it “just” a question of my finding out for myself, truly and honestly, what I really want in (a) romantic partnership(s) and then “going for it”?

These are not decisions I made, or am making, light-heartedly. 

I had envisioned my summer of 2023 very differently. I had imagined that after recovering from my gender-affirming top-surgery, I would get fully back to work in a very productive way, wrap up my textbook completely, publish the results from the past year of postdoc research, calmly find a new living situation, and then go on a 2-3 week vacation exploring new areas in- and/or out-of-State, before starting the Fall 2023 semester with a full & regular schedule. 

But March & April turned out to be much tougher than expected between my return to the “real world” & to work being much harder and slower than I had hoped and my housing situation precipitating and forcing me to find a new place from one day to the next. But the latter event also opened up a whole new world of opportunities and relationships, from a place to live where I feel comfortable & loved, to new “adoptive families”, the deepening of previous friendships, new running buddies in my neighborhood, psychedelic therapy, starting to go out dancing again — reconnecting to life in a more whole & happy way and even exploring life in new ways. 

It’s within this frame of a roller-coaster, surprising, and unexpected (for better or for worse) spring that the friendship with the genderqueer visiting scientist from Europe started again after the break from their (scientific) visit from last year. When they arrived at the end of March, I was at the height of my (housing) crisis; and during their first two months here I was going from being extremely stressed and anxious and still traumatized and almost afraid of the world to opening up to life again — my own wonderful, albeit complicated, springtime. One can view our (re)connection then as serendipitous. For me it was in many ways extremely unexpected, but when around mid-May I finally realized there might be something “more” than platonic friendship between us, I decided very consciously to go with it, to take the leap, to let it happen, to “go and explore”. I wasn’t going to explore new areas in- and/or out-of-State out in Nature on my own, as planned. I was going to explore new & old areas of my own inner world in close relation with someone else — something I hadn’t really done in a decade. 

There still is a part of me that feels/thinks that I wasn’t true to myself or my plans/dreams this summer because I didn’t go and explore new areas in- and/or out-of-State out in Nature on my own — probably it’s the wounded part of me, and maybe also the staunchly independent part of me. But it was my decision, my conscious decision. I chose to spend that time with them and to spend it with them in those particular ways — and we made many of those decisions together, like a couple, in a relationship — something I also hadn’t done in a decade. I postponed and shrunk my road trip vacation, I didn’t travel far geographically this summer; but I nevertheless did something very important and meaningful for myself and probably also for them — and definitely something new or unusual for me for years. 

So my decision that that experience be limited in time comes within this frame, or reality, for me: I willingly and consciously went into an experience for 2-3 months between May and July that was in many ways new to me, in many ways difficult because I was out of practice, in some ways also scary or not completely aligned to what I would do on a long-term basis. I explored, I experimented, opening up to and compromising with another person, very closely. Maybe too closely or too fast too close because I couldn’t have maintained those patterns for long, they would have been unsustainable for me in the long run. I did it willingly & consciously then because I knew that was the only moment, the only time, I would have with them. 

In many ways my summer plans were turned upside down by them, by their presence, by the relationship with them: I embraced that, I went with the flow, I even jumped for it, because I felt that it was worth it. 

And I still believe it was worth it, deep down inside me. But in order to be able to really tap into that sense of it “having been worth it”, now I need to find some closure to shed the anger and the pain. 

To be able to say — and to truly feel deep down inside me — “that was my summer of 2023, how I chose to spend that one summer together with someone I loved”.

I’m taking back my power. 

I still do have a choice. 

And maybe it hasn’t really been “one step forward, two steps back” for me — maybe I’ve learned and grown more than expected from all this. 

This anger I’m feeling is the “good type of anger”, it’s my friend. It’s that anger that tells me that my boundaries have been pushed or forced in a way that is unhealthy for me; that anger that tells me when it’s time to say “Stop”; that anger that helps me get unstuck and move on. 

I still have a choice and I am making my decision — actually, I’m confirming the decision I had already made one month, two months, three months ago, all along. I always knew in my heart that it would be a lovely but temporary, self-contained love story with my genderqueer European friend. I called it a “bubble” all along, and I meant it. A wonderful, lovely bubble with so many things I miss — and will miss for a long time — terribly. With so many things that remind me daily of my genderqueer European friend. But sooner or later the pain will fade from those memories and I will be able to just retain the beauty & joy from the recollections. That is also one of my choices, one of my decisions: to keep, and eventually be able to go back to, those lovely memories; to hold those 2-3 months of this past spring/summer with my genderqueer European friend as a beautiful, lovely, and important part of my life. I don’t want to regret, to feel like I wasted those months with them or grieving after their departure. I want to be happy I did it, as I was in the moment I did. I pushed some of my own boundaries while being in the romantic relationship with them those couple of months and I did it consciously but also specifically because I knew it would be temporary, that our love story was temporary. I put up with some things that I probably wouldn’t have accepted if our relationship hadn’t been a “time-constrained bubble”, if I hadn’t known it was going to forcefully end by August 1st. I did it willingly and consciously then, but I’m not going to let any more of my boundaries be pushed with them now. I loved them to pieces and still love them and miss them but even if the geographical barriers were removed, it wouldn’t work between us because of some aspects of their character/personality that are deeply not OK for me in a long-term romantic relationship. Maybe they feel the same about me, but they still seem willing to hang on to something, to some sporadic form of romantic communication between us, to the idea of meeting up at a conference for a week next year in June. At this stage, that doesn’t work for me, and I have the right to not only say so and explain my reasons — which I’ve done with them in great detail — but also to act upon it concretely. 

Which is what I shall do.

I strongly believe in the fact that sometimes, when you love someone, you’ve got to let them go, even if just temporarily at times. 

This has been an issue for me with a few friends, with my family of origin for years, and most recently with my genderqueer European ex-lover.

For me, grief is deeply intertwined with rejection and abandonment issues, which is probably why I instinctively turn inwards and even push some people away from me when I’m grieving. I need to find — to rediscover or reestablish — my own capacity to “make it through” by myself ultimately. When people are, or seem to be, unwilling or unable to let me do that, I cut communication with them, at least temporarily, as a means to protect myself, on the one hand, and also to find deeper or faster healing, on the other. I have been doing this for many years with my family of origin because they so often broke or disrespected or invaded my boundaries, my need for silence and/or distance. I literally had to block them on my phone. 

When my genderqueer European friend left a month ago, I asked them to give me some time before being in touch again, about 4-5 weeks of “radio silence” for me to recover from our separation. They agreed, a bit reluctantly, and I believed I could trust them. So I didn’t block them on my phone. But they broke that promise. 

I am loyal. I believe deeply in friendship, it has been maybe my single deepest and most important belief and goal in life since childhood. I truly believe in building, maintaining, and rebuilding friendships/relationships. But I also strongly believe in the need for breaks, for silence, for distance sometimes, when necessary. Sometimes it is necessary. It can hurt in the moment but I think it helps to heal things deeper & faster in the long run. 

I turn inward to myself and/or reach out to “safe” friendships and exercise, nature, and work when I’m grieving. I temporarily turn away from the cause of my pain or grief, which often involves temporarily “turning away” from the person causing or involved in (whether willingly or not) that pain/loss/grief. But I come back. I do come back. And when I come back with my heart healed I can give so much more — more friendship, more compassion, more empathy, more love — free of anger. 

It’s going to be harder for me to do that with my genderqueer European ex-lover now because of their having disrespected my request for “radio silence” a month ago. Their reaching out to me way too early and with mixed messages in their communication to me has sort of “set me back” by almost a month in my healing process — or that’s how it feels to me now. And for this I’m angry with them. 

When I asked them for 4-5 weeks of “radio silence”, roughly until after the Labor Day holiday weekend, I knew from past experiences that that would allow me sufficient time to do most of the “heavy lifting” of the grieving both for my father’s death and for the forced separation/breakup from my genderqueer European ex-lover. Not having gotten those four weeks of silence from them is making me feel “far behind” in my grieving process because every communication with them feels like a renewed separation or breakup from which I have to recover over and over again — like one step forward and two steps back. 

This hurts me but it also infuriates me because it makes me feel like I have no control over my own healing process. 

Despite it having been one of the loveliest, deepest, and strongest love stories of my life, the relationship with my genderqueer European ex-lover for me was — or needs to be — a “summer affair”, a wonderful little bubble belonging to 2-3 months of the spring/summer 2023 but nothing more. I need that closure, those boundaries, in order to be able to heal and move on with my life. There is no future for us together, so I need to be able to move on with my life, with the life I have chosen to build & live here in Colorado. They went back to their “normal life” in Europe, at “home”, their home, with their stable partners there with whom they already have built or are in the process of building a concrete life in Europe. The months here in Colorado were a bubble, a parenthesis, for them, a temporary phase in their professional as well as personal life, a temporary phase of which I happened to be a part. But that’s it, that’s all. They’ve gone back to their “normal”, “non-temporary” life in Europe which they already share with two partners. I don’t belong to that life of theirs there. I belong here. And I need to rebuild my life here, where I have been left on my own (i.e. without other partners). I feel like I was left behind — to me, I was de facto left behind, with very little choice or power in the matter other than the choice/power of severing communication (temporarily). 

The fact that even that last little shred of choice/power/control was taken away from me by them infuriates me. 

What choice/power/control am I left with now?

My days are full of things to do, people to see, friends who love me. But my soul is empty, my heart a hole. 

I run through my days, seemingly my usual active, lively self on the outside. But I’m dead inside. 

I’m an empty shell.

My friends ask me how I’m doing. And I don’t really know what to answer. There are days when my emotions fluctuate wildly and are extremely intense — pain, sadness, grief, loneliness, anger, but also a sense of freedom, liberation, belonging here geographically. On days of such emotional roller-coasters it’s hard for me to say how I’m doing because my feelings are all over the place. Then, there are days when I feel nothing; I feel like an empty shell or totally disconnected from myself. 

This disconnect is happening with my body, too: I feel like I’ve lost the boy in me. 

I’m struggling with my gender. 

I’ve been off testosterone for ten days now. I stopped it at the very beginning of my trip last week because of a gut feeling, a sense of needing to stop it. 

I wanted to be able to grieve and “feel my emotions just as they were, just as they came” — although I realize this might be a perspective coming from internalized transphobia. 

I also was feeling uncomfortable and frustrated with the recent increase of body/facial hair. Uncomfortable probably because I wasn’t socialized in a way that would prepare me to accept body hair on myself and maybe also because I simply prefer bodies (male & female) without much body hair. Frustrated because despite the increase of body/facial hair on me, which I & my queer friends have been noticing, I am still getting misgendered a lot: the majority of the world around me seems to see an androgynous/athletic & maybe hairy woman in me, and I hate this. I am NOT a woman!!! And I hate to be read/seen as a hairy/androgynous/athletic woman. So I got to the point where I thought, “What’s the point of taking testosterone if all that I’m getting from it is body hair I don’t like and ongoing misgendering from the world around me?!?” 

I’ve lost the boy inside me — or maybe the boy in me is lost. He is lost because he recently lost two of the most important people in his boy-life: he lost his dad, who will never know him as the boy he is and always was; and he lost his non-binary, genderqueer European boyfriend who was so affirming of his blossoming & transforming masculinity.

I think the profound and heart-wrenching grief from having lost my father and my genderqueer European lover (the former by death, the latter by forced separation/breakup) in such short succession has thrown me off balance so much that it’s blocked the growth of the boy in me. It’s left me feeling so disconnected with myself that I cannot even feel my own gender. I know I’m not a woman and I hate to be read as one; but when I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t see that beautiful boy anymore — I don’t see anything.

I see no one.