Acceptance of the Self

Book 1: Attunement of the Hearts

Chapter 6.e - Breaking Through

___________________ ღ♥ღ ___________________

 Erick

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[ - Friday Sept. 06 2019, 5:30pm, College - ]

 

I’m slowly recovering from the small heart attack Matt’s just given me. I’m standing on the left side of the wide sidewalk, away from the road, trying to wipe the shocked expression off my face. There are maybe four other people milling around waiting for the bus, and my heart’s hammering in my chest at how loud I’d gasped when Matt had bumped into me. I hate making a scene, but after the whirlwind of a day I’ve had, my first instinct upon seeing Matt is to throw my arms around him and maybe cry a little.

 

“W-What are you doing here?” I ask instead, trying not to sound like I’m holding onto my cool by a microscopic thread.

 

He gestures to the phone I’m holding in my right hand. “I texted to ask if you want to come over to my place tonight,” he explains earnestly. “And when you didn’t answer I figured I’d try and catch you before you got on the bus. I’m happy to drive you, wherever you decide to go!”

 

His face looks almost painfully hopeful, like it gets when he’s just rolled the dice on a D&D stat check that he really wants to succeed in. I feel a little burst of joy in my chest as I realize he genuinely wants to spend time with me. The realization does wonders to push back the cloud of anxieties and questions ricocheting around my head.

 

I smile back at him. “I- I’d love that!” I stammer, “Uh, sorry I didn’t see the texts! I’m, kinda going through a lot right now.”

 

“Yes! I figured you were!” He says a little too loudly. His eyes widen and flick to the people behind me, but I reply before he can start catastrophizing about possibly breaking a stupid social norm. 

 

“Lead the way, dweeb,” I say, my voice only a little shaky. I motion for him to start walking.

 

He shakes his head a little, refocusing on me. “Right,” he says a little quieter, “this way, nerd.”

 

---

 

The trek from the bus stop to the parking garage starts off without a hitch. We’d made some small talk as we walked south along the main campus road, but had fallen into a companionable silence after catching up on our school days a bit. 

 

I’m trying to figure out how to tell Matt that I might possibly not be a cis dude, while debating whether I should let him know I’m also losing my mind now - to get it all out at once - or later - to give him a chance to recover between revelatory blows. I know I’ll play it by ear, but it never hurts to be prepared.  

 

Matt and I enter the shadow of the massive campus library: a curved red brick building that the sidewalk and street gently bend with. 

 

I'm considering what secrets to spill, when I notice those thoughts seeming to travel farther than the boundaries of my mind. It’s like the echo chamber of my brain is much longer in that direction, sort of like a narrowed-down version of the mental acuity that the visions with Anne had been beginning with. I realize I can feel the connection to her still, it’s just a lot more contained than before.

 

As I think about the warrior girl, I find the image of a sandy beach popping into my mind. It’s like I’m recalling a memory, though I know I’ve never seen this place before. 

 

In the vision, an ocean of sparkling teal blue water stretches out in front of me. It’s visible for several hundred kilometers to either side, but disappears into a massive wall of swirling white mists maybe ten kilometers ahead of my viewpoint. Said mists stretch from one side of the horizon to the other and curve up to merge with the heavy cloud cover of the sky a few hundred kilometers above. The place is startlingly real, like a lucid dream scene that I’d spent a considerable amount of time imagining all the little details of.

 

Ahead, a small dock extends a kilometer or so out into the sea, and where it ends there’s what looks like an incredibly long, smooth, and slightly snaking length of wood that gradually widens from a five-meter width at the dock to maybe eight meters across before it’s swallowed up by the mists. The ocean’s waves crash rhythmically into the beach on either side, but the flat-topped, root-like wooden bridge is surrounded by a belt of calm water stretching a few meters away from its sides. 

 

What the fuck? I think forcefully, trying my hardest to push the scene from my mind and bring my attention back to the waking world beside Matt. Of course, it’s at that moment that a foreign presence seeps into my thoughts; it's like I’d been by myself in a quiet room and suddenly know I’m not alone.

 

Oh good, this seems a little stabler, the presence muses. I recognize the silky texture of Anne’s thoughts, though they’re much less noticeable than our conversation in the courtyard, and realize they seem to be radiating out from the bridge image. Then I get a flash of an image: Anne in her leather armor, standing on the tip of the root bridge just off the dock, with her arms slightly crossed and her form a little ghostly, like she’s not fully there.

 

Hi there, Erick, she thinks. The idea brushes against my mind like a soft spring breeze. 

 

I make a face of annoyance, stuffing my hands into the front pockets of the hoodie and hunching my shoulders as I focus on following Matt out of the shadow of the library. I do my best to push the thought of ‘Hi, Anne,’ in the general direction of our connection, though I doubt I'm successful in hiding my irritation at her appearance.

 

Ah, she says, I forget you’re of one mind. The sentence is more defined than the ones before, more like the memory of spoken words than a vague concept.

 

I blink, and can’t stop myself from thinking back, I’m what now?

 

I get an even more detailed memory-message this time.

 

“It’s like, your mind functions as a single entity,” Anne explains aloud from the edge of the bridge. Her voice is the same soft, low contralto she’d had back in the center of campus. 

 

“Or more simply,” she continues, “you’re not used to talking to other people in your head.” She cocks her head slightly, eyes seeming to peer deeper into my soul than they had any right to. “At least that’s what it seems like? Sorry if I’m assuming.” 

 

I take a deep breath as Matt and I come to a stop at the corner of an intersection. I glance at the counting-down ‘DON’T WALK’ light ahead, and catch Matt giving me a questioning look. 

 

Ah fuck, I think tiredly. My steadying breath had been the first noise I'd made in several minutes, and he’d probably noticed my beleaguered body language. I grimace at my friend, and say, “Sorry, I’m okay, just thinking about... stuff.”

 

Oh! I’m sorry! Anne immediately think-says at me, I didn’t realize you were in the middle of something!

 

Matt nods at me understandingly. “Do you want me to leave you to it for now?”

 

I nod gratefully. “That would probably be easiest. I promise I'll talk more when we’re in the car,” I reply.

 

"Of course," Matt says, "and hey, there's no pressure to talk about anything unless you feel comfortable with it, okay?" 

 

I can feel Anne even more strongly in my mind, like she’s followed me from the beach to the street, watching through my eyes and listening through my ears. 

 

"Y-yeah," I reply aloud, feeling a surge of affection towards Matt. "I appreciate that."

 

If you're real, can we talk later? I think-ask Anne as I finish speaking.

 

Yes! she responds, I think I’ve got a good idea of how this works. I’ll do my best to leave you alone, at least until we accidentally connect again. I’m still not sure how to stop that. 

 

Thankfully the light changes and Matt turns away before he can see me start nodding eagerly to myself. Yes, please, please give me some time to talk, and sleep, and figure my shit out, I practically plead. 

 

Of course hun, Anne says firmly. One last question before I go: are you planning to tell anyone about me in the near future? 

 

I take a moment to digest that as I cross the street. There are a lot of people joining us as we near the parking garage. Five in the afternoon is a common ending class time for students here.

 

Maybe? I think uncertainly. I really don't know if I'll be able to bear lying to Matt if he asks me about my weird headache after D&D. Is that a problem?

 

Not at all, she replies. If you think it’s safe for him to know about you, I’m certainly not going to stop you. Just, stay safe? 

 

I feel genuine concern for my well being leak into my mind, and I feel both confused and a little reassured. The other side of the street beside us is filled with a line of cars waiting for the light. The traffic begins two blocks ahead at the parking garage exit. Looks like Matt and I will have plenty of time to kill waiting to get out of there.

 

Um, I’ll do my best, I think after a minute. You too? 

 

There’s a flash of the beach scene again, like I dip into a daydream for a few seconds: Anne is smiling at me on the dock. “Good luck,” she says, giving me a little salute before she turns and starts walking across the bridge back to her side of the connection. I feel her presence retreat steadily from my awareness.

 

The possibility that I might get some uninterrupted time to spend with Matt does wonders for my mood. I follow him with a renewed spring in my step, and a few minutes later Matt's pushing through the glass door to the elevator lobby of the parking garage with me hot on his heels. He even holds the door for me as I follow him in. 

 

I give him a warm smile, and he grins in response before turning and walking toward the button panel on the wall ahead. I wrestle thoughts of Anne to the side as we wait for the lift, and do my best to ground myself in the physical world. I breathe in the scent of lavender that pervades the room, and listen to the faint rumbles and groans echoing down the elevator shaft. It isn’t long before my eyes flick to Matt’s, and I find him watching me quietly with a little smile on his face.

 

My stomach does some very interesting gymnastics as his eyes widen and he looks away with cheeks slightly redder than they’d been a moment ago. I feel extremely present in my body all of the sudden. And intimately aware of all the things about it that don't quite fit me right. Matt looking at me like that, while I look like this? I don’t know how to parse it. My arms hug themselves close to my chest without my input, and I feel heat rising to my face as I look in the direction opposite the cute boy beside me.

 

This is going to be an interesting car ride.

 

---

 

We make awkward small talk in the elevator, about what games we might play tonight, how late we should stay up, that kind of thing. Neither of us is able to meet the other’s gaze for longer than a few seconds. I get the feeling that I’m not the only one with a lot on my mind.

 

A few minutes later and we’re finally opening the doors of Matt’s little honda civic in unison. We slide into the front seats and get ourselves settled in. There’s a minute or so where we’re both buckling in and figuring out what to do with our backpacks, and then it’s over. I’m sitting beside my best friend with my heart hammering in my throat, silence descending around us. 

 

I find I have no idea what to do with my hands. I fidget for a few moments, before clasping them in my lap, and turning to glance at Matt. I find his amber-colored eyes already on me, looking as clouded with uncertainty as my own gaze must be. He’s quick to give me a little smile though, and he says, “Do you, uh, do you mind if we sit here for a little while? I’ve had a long day, and I could use the break before we hit the road. Plus there’s a ton of traffic right now anyway.”

 

His words cut through my rising anxiety. “Oh, sure!” I reply. I feel more heat rise to my cheeks, and I find myself saying: “We can take as long as you want! I’m, um, not really sure where to start, or what to talk about? Oh! Do you want me to read your texts first?” I almost trip over the last few words.

 

He shakes his head. “Nah, don’t worry about them,” he says reassuringly, “All I said was that I’m really happy you found all those articles and did all that research. I looked through the links you sent, and a lot of that stuff was... new, to me.” 

 

The way he says it, and the fact that his eyes skirt away from mine at the same time, make me regret my barrage of texts even harder. Does he think I’m a creep? Shit! 

 

I have to forcibly wrestle with the panic. I know Matt better than that, there’s got to be another reason for his hesitation. He started this whole conversation by giving me those subreddits, he’s not going to shame me for actually reading through them!

 

There’s quiet for a few moments, while I internally combust. 

 

Then Matt says, in a soft, kind voice, “It sounded like there was a lot on your mind the other night, about all this stuff. Do you want to talk about it?”

 

I grimace. Part of me absolutely does not, but I’m starting to think it’s fighting a losing battle. This is Matt. I know Matt, I trust him. I know he’s not going to judge me, no matter how much I fear otherwise. I know he genuinely wants to help. And y’know, maybe, just maybe, getting some of this stuff off my chest will help me feel a little less like I’m on the brink of a panic attack.

 

“I... don’t know,” I say at last, into the silence of the car. I’m staring straight ahead, out the windshield at the cracked concrete wall before us. “Like, I don’t really know what to talk about, because I don’t really know how I’m feeling? Last night I was... I was overwhelmed and scared about all the things I was reading. But a lot of it made a strange kind of sense to me.” 

 

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. Then I dive in. “I don't know if I'm trans, yet. But I also don't really think I'm cis? Apparently it’s very common knowledge that a cis guy likely wouldn't be doing all this thinking and researching, but even knowing that I haven’t been able to stop. It all feels so real to me, in a way that nothing else in my life ever has.”

 

Oh, wow, I just said that out loud. With my human mouth. Fuck. But when I peek furtively over at my friend, I see him looking at me with a patient, almost happy-looking smile. Alright, that’s good enough for me. 

 

“So,” I continue, “I don’t know if you read the ‘null hypothecis’ thing, but basically it says to ask the question ‘am I cis?’ as seriously as you ask ‘am I trans?’. So I did that, and I kind of... well, like I said, I’m doing a lot of things that cis guys wouldn’t do, if they were happy with their body and gender role and everything.”

 

I risk another peek over at Matt, and find him nodding. His smile is, if anything, bigger than before. Oh crap, what’s he thinking? What if I come out wrong, or disappoint him?

 

content warning: internalized transphobia

 

“I’m not sure of anything besides that though!” I say quickly, “I don’t know if I want to transition! Or, like, I don’t know if I’m strong enough to. I can only imagine how hard that is, and I really don’t know if I can deal with all the stress.”

 

I catch a wince of pain on Matt’s face. My arms are hugging themselves against me again; I feel extremely vulnerable, like I’m made of glass.

 

“I’m not even sure what I’d want to transition to,” I continue quietly. I turn to look out my window. “Like, if there was a button I could push that would give me a cis girl's body, I'd hit it in an instant. But there’s not. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to pass as a woman to myself, let alone the rest of the world. It basically feels like a choice between living a life that I low-key hate, or living a life in a world that high-key hates me, you know?”

 

I try for a rueful grin. Like ‘ah, life sucks and we’re gonna die, am I right?’, but my heart’s not in it. 

 

end cw

 

“I guess, for the time being, I’m ‘questioning’ my gender. And also my whole identity, future, and sanity,” I finish, before quickly mumbling, “Though uh, that last one’s unrelated to gender.”

 

I take a few shaky breaths. When I glance over and meet Matt’s gaze, I find him looking deadly serious. He doesn’t say anything though; he’s got his thinking face on, no doubt trying to put his own feelings into words. 

 

For my part, my chest feels ever-so-slightly lighter, after saying all that out loud. But at the same time I feel constricted, confined. I’ve never put it all together at once like that before, I hadn’t even decided whether or not I was cis until I’d said it. And realizing that reality, as well as contemplating those two paths before me, makes me want to curl up in a ball and despawn from this hellish world. 

 

But, just as I’m about to speak up to apologize for ruining the mood, Matt breaks the silence.

 

“Thank you for sharing all that with me, Er- er, you,” he says softly. “I really appreciate it. You’re one of my best friends, and I want to be here with you to support you, to help you with your questioning however I can.”

 

He drums his fingers on the bottom of the steering wheel, and I can practically see the gears turning in his mind. 

 

“I have a lot of things I’d like to say,” he says a little hesitantly, “but I need to start with the most important one: I think I know how you feel, in my own way. I’ve had thoughts almost exactly the same as what you describe several times throughout the past few years.”

 

I turn to look at him with wide eyes, what?

 

“Y-you have?” I ask, confusion and surprise flooding my mind.

 

He gives me a pained smile. “Yep,” he replies, “and for most of the reasons you just listed, I’d never given it serious thought. I’ve been able to ignore and repress my desires because I don’t think I really have any ‘traditional’ gender dysphoria; I’ve always felt basically content with my body and my life. I love being Sky’s big brother, and I’ve never felt quite as depressed as you sounded just now.” 

 

He rests his left arm on the driver’s-side door, looking past it at the truck parked beside us.

 

“But that button?” he asks, his voice dropping to a murmur, “I’d hit it too. If I could keep everything about my life the same, but be seen as a woman? As a girl? Yeah, I’d take that over being Matt in a heartbeat.”

 

I lean back in my seat, staring at the back of his head. I’m shocked at how surprised I am by what he’s saying. I’d noticed of course, during my time browsing countless ‘signs you are trans’ lists, that Matt hit at least as many of the points as I had. He’d denied it so thoroughly every time it came up though, that I had assumed he really was cis. I’d thought I was alone. 

 

“I used to think that was reasonable for a cis guy to want, maybe even normal,” he’s saying, “I told myself shit like, ‘who doesn’t want to see what it’s like on the other side of the fence?’. But then,” he pauses for a moment, turning around to give me a wry smile, “then you went and did the research. You sent me all those links, and I couldn’t not look at them. I went through everything during my lunch break today. And I just, I couldn’t justify it to myself any longer. That turn-me-into-a-girl game? That was... well, that was really eye-opening.”

 

There’s a pause, as Matt runs a hand through his messy light brown hair. I stare into my lap, memories of that game flooding my thoughts. I feel heat rising to my cheeks at how quickly I’d pressed that particular button. I’d almost convinced myself I was a girl then and there, when that ‘Congratulations, you’re a girl!' screen came up in my room at 4 am this morning. But I’d hesitated for a moment, and that had been all my anxiety needed to lock such a silly dream out of my reach.

 

Matt takes a deep breath beside me, and when I glance at him again, I find his eyes shining with an emotion I can’t quite place. Hope? Fear? Whatever it is, it coats his next words with a strangely confident, almost defiant air.

 

“I’m pretty sure that was the moment my ‘egg’ cracked,” he says firmly. “When I realized how incredibly happy I felt watching that progress bar tick up, turning me, heart by imaginary heart, into a girl.”

 

I stare at my friend, turmoil roiling through my mind as I process what he’s telling me.

 

“So, you’re...?” I start to ask, my voice low and filled with wonder.

 

“I’m a girl,” she says, with a confidence I can only envy. “I’m going to be using she/her pronouns with my family starting today, and I want that to include you. From now on, you can call me Dawn.” 

 

There’s a familiar gleam of happiness in her eyes: it looks like she’s about to start vibrating off the seat with excitement, and her mood is more than contagious enough to go to war with all the worries and doubts and fears that had been filling my head.

 

Outwardly I have to restrain myself from trying to somehow leap to my feet and give her a hug across the center console of the car. There's so many emotions churning through me that no reaction feels anywhere near appropriate. In the end, I settle for exclaiming, “Holy shit that’s so amazing Dawn! I’m so happy for you!”

 

She beams at me, relief washing across her expression. “Thank you! I’ve been dying to tell you all day, but I knew you had a lot you needed to say, first.”

 

I pause, trying to remember all the things I’d just said about people like her, people like us. 

 

“Why did you wait to tell me until after I said all that?” I ask curiously.

 

“I wanted to hear your honest feelings, hun,” Dawn says, “without my own decision coloring them.“ 

 

It’s the first time he’s - fuck, she’s -  used that term with me, ‘hun’. It’s a simple, stupid thing, but warm energy fills me like I’m a flower being touched by the first rays of the sun.

 

“You’re right that the road ahead is tough for people like us,” she continues, “but I have to do this. I can’t lie to Sky like that, or myself.” Her eyes lose a little of their mirth, but she has an aura of steely determination about her.

 

“I don’t know what’s right for you, E,” she admits, “I desperately, desperately want you to find happiness. But only you can actually figure out what makes you happy, what gives your life meaning.”

 

I feel tears prickle at the corners of my eyes. My emotions are going haywire, happiness and hope warring with dread and despair. It’s too much, too fast. The flower of my heart begins to droop, its pastel orange petals furling closed a little tighter. The moment begins to stretch. 

 

“I-I, you,” I stammer, “I don’t, I can’t...” I feel the hesitation setting in, stalling out my attempts to voice the thoughts barrelling through my mind. Then a soft whisper cuts through the air around me.

 

“Shhhhhhh,” Dawn says gently, putting a hand on my knee. Her face is gentle, kind. As it always is when she’s calming me down from a panic spiral.

 

“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” Dawn assures me softly, “I’m not pressuring you to make any sort of decision, it’s important that you have all the time you need to question this stuff, to try on different labels and see what fits, okay? And we don’t have to talk about this any more tonight, if you don’t want to. We can just hang out, play games, and chill like normal.”

 

I feel a tear trace its way down my cheek. She’s being so nice to me. I feel like a lost puppy she’s coaxing out of from under the couch. And what she said, about trying on labels, part of me seizes onto it like a lifeline. 

 

“Th-thank you,” I say shakily, “Can, can I maybe try new pronouns out, tonight?”

 

The smile that she gives me is beatific. “Absolutely, hun. Which ones would you like?”

 

“She,” I say immediately, before I can hesitate, “and her.”

 

Dawn nods. “Do you have anything you’d like me to call you, name-wise?” she asks quietly.

 

I take a shuddering breath. “Not really,” I admit. “But, you just called me E a bit ago, can you keep doing that?”

 

“Of course, E,” she says emphatically. 

 

---

 

We talk for about half an hour more in the car. Mostly to recover from the intensity of our mutual coming outs. We plan out what kind of pizza we’re going to make tonight, and she lets me know that I’m welcome to stay the entire weekend as far as she’s concerned: her dads won't have a problem with that. Slowly but surely, my heartbeat starts to slow down. 

 

Dawn calls me ‘E’, ‘girl’, and ‘hun’ as often as she can, and each time I feel a little less awkward about trying out this possible facet of my identity. Somehow, she makes me feel safe enough to enjoy the tingles of delight I feel whenever she femininely genders me, and my anxiety about how inconvenient it must be for her to switch her perceptions of me around like that is offset by the genuine happiness I feel doing the exact same thing for her.

 

I’m working tirelessly to see my best friend as a girl, as a woman. And it is work, because I’d spent so long thinking of her by a different name, a different gender. But that doesn’t deter me in the slightest. I know I’m capable of making this kind of mental change. I’d done it for Sky when they’d first come out. It had taken a few weeks before I’d stopped screwing up every time they were in the room, but it had gotten easier with practice. And now that same practice is doing wonders in helping me shift my perceptions to focus on the feminine features of Dawn’s face and mannerisms, to hear her talk and categorize her voice as a woman’s. It helps that she's already so damned kind and helpful, so effortlessly caring for a scared, confused kid like me.

 

When we finally decide to hit the road, it’s mostly because we’re both starving. Dawn puts the car into gear and maneuvers us out of the parking garage and out through the campus streets and into the city proper. We talk about how we’re going to break the news to the rest of Dawn’s family, and even though I’m terrified at the prospect of explaining myself to them all, Dawn’s confidence rubs off on me. Her folks had made every effort to help Sky feel safe and comfortable in their home, after all, and we both have faith that they’ll react to us in the same way.

 

By the time we make it onto the highway, we’ve lapsed into a comfortable silence. Dawn tells me to pick whatever music I want for the ride home, and so as we speed up to match the rest of the traffic, the rising drum beats of Bikini Kill’s Rebel Girl thrum through the car.

 

Dawn lets out a whoop as she recognizes the song, and she turns the volume way up as we zoom down the freeway. I can’t help but sing along with her as the lyrics kick in. I feel almost giddy as I realize we’re two newly-minted rebel girls with our entire lives ahead of us, and with that revelation comes a heady, almost overwhelming sense of rightness.

 

End of

Chapter 6 - Breaking Through