So, it’s Christmas morning or whatever. Cool. I like Christmas. A lot, actually. Like for real. I have all those wonderful and fond memories of waking up on Christmas morning as a privileged white “boy” in America. There were seemingly endless presents under the tree, a loving family, a wonderful dinner, and all the wholesome feel-goodness of an ABC Family Christmas special.
But the thing is, I woke up in my own bed this Christmas morning for the first time in my 31 years on this planet. That’s not so bad on the surface. I mean, I don’t even have a bed at my parents’ house anymore. For about a decade now, my brother has taken up residency in my old room without vacating the one he had. And besides having to sleep on the couch and be woken up by the same brother coming home at 3am every year, Christmas is simply hectic as an adult. My family. The wife’s family. 70 miles between them. Oof.
This year, we’re doing none of that. Thanks to no longer having a relationship with my in-laws due to my being trans, I haven’t had to make the trip to see them in three Christmases now. The wife still goes to see them for dinner because family and all that, but now I relax at home after the drive back up from my being with my family for Christmas Eve and Christmas morning.
Now, like I said, I woke up at home this morning for the first time. I’m not seeing my family today. This actually has nothing to do with me being transgender directly, they accept me as their transgender daughter 100% without question. Being trans is a non-issue for my family. I’m not seeing my family because I haven’t spoken to my father in three months and have no plans to change that any time soon. See, he’s kind of an ass. Not your deadbeat father kind of ass and not abusive or anything like that. I don’t really think the particulars here are important, to be honest. However, I do fully believe if I wasn’t trans I’d be at their house right now. The issues with my dad weren’t directly caused by my transness, but my transition did help to show how little he actually wants to be a meaningful part of my life. That, in turn, helped me finally realize I could save myself a lot of grief by not bothering with him anymore.
So here I am on Christmas with a simple plan…exchange gifts with the wife, go for a run, watch A Christmas Story a few times, and then put on the Doctor Who Christmas special. It’ll be quiet and relaxing, but it doesn’t feel like Christmas…despite this towering 9-foot tall tree that’s been mostly cleared of ornaments by our menagerie of felines.
To be honest, this post doesn’t have much of a point. I just haven’t really posted in a while and the whole thing has sort of been on my mind.
So anyway, merry Christmas!