Sarahjanus's Blog

December 1, 2010

Letter to a sister lost; for now

            One of the facets of being neurotic, (apparently) is that your emotions are unstable. A neurotic is easily knocked off whatever emotion they are experiencing by minimal stimuli. This is what happened to me yesterday. I was driving back from my painting class and I was in a wonderfully relaxed mood. I have been making progress in this particular class and I find that the pastime causes the hours to fly by.

So far I haven’t let anybody-else see my work because I recognize the very juvenile nature of my efforts and I prefer to develop some skill before I open myself up to criticism. I guess that’s another facet of being neurotic.

Anyway, I was enjoying the drive home yesterday and feeling particularly girly even though I wasn’t dressed, not even under-dressed. The mood was on me. I wanted to have a conversation in the car with another woman. I wanted a woman to woman talk. I wanted to have someone in the car who would accept the far-fetched premise of me being a woman and just run with the moment. That was the basis for yesterday’s blog; a letter from a make-believe woman to a non-existent sister. When I got home, the feeling was still present and strong so I opened up a page and began to write. It was going to be a gushy almost Valley-girl narrative. I used the opportunity to tell my little joke, the one I have been dying to tell but never remember when I am writing.

Then I told about my wife’s not being receptive to the idea that a man can declare himself gay after 20 years of marriage to a woman, and that spun me off-course, as it is beginning to now. I lost the girly mood and wasn’t able to recover it. It has taken until now, almost 24 hours for me to recover it.

So, my letter to a sister who loves me as I am; I missed you yesterday. I really wanted to have you in the car with me. I was coming home from painting class, I know you’re laughing already, me painting. My skills require a small roller and a big drop-cloth, but I’m trying to learn. And no, you’re not going to see the paintings until I’m comfortable with the result. But the effort put a song in my heart and you know how rare that is.

I wish you had been with me. We could have shared a latte from Starbucks; I know you’re a sucker for those. They’re more fun in the summer when we can sit outside and carve the passers-by for the fashion faux pas. You make me laugh with that dry wit of yours, so quiet, so cutting.

And then, I drove by Winners. I drove right by. I didn’t stop to even browse the racks. When I think of how much stuff I’ve bought in the past few months, I almost feel guilty. So much of it is summer stuff so it’s going to sit in the drawer til next year.

But we could have gone in, just for the walk-around. You have a pretty good eye for stuff that works for me. Have you seen all the shoes I’ve accumulated, I mean, what am I going to do with them?

I have to end the letter here because it isn’t flowing the way the mood did for me yesterday. Yesterday I was light-hearted. I did have that song in my heart but I didn’t have anyone to share the moment with. I’ve been diagnosed as being clinically depressed and I am on a prescription for that. I am a flat-line emotionally on a day-to-day basis, apparently due to PTSD. I have forgotten how to laugh and I don’t even know how to smile anymore.  When I was taking the photos that I posted in and Facebook I struggled (and failed) to find the muscles that would let me smile.

So, having a song in my heart was a “red letter” day. I wanted, really wanted that accepting sister to be with me and share the moment. I am a closet cross-dresser whose wife will not be accepting and understanding and facilitating. If she finds out I will be alone. This is the cruel irony that passes for my life. As a female, I can find the joy in moments that I cannot find as a male. As a female, when I dress in the morning and set about my chores and my work, I am at peace with myself and I am lighter in spirit. As a female, I can open up and let emotions bubble to the surface and across my face.

When the mood is upon me again, I will write my letter from a make-believe woman to my sister who understands, and I will post it here because sharing is something that Sarah does. Friends are important to her. Thank you for reading


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