Reflections on a Life in Transition
“It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”
That’s always been my favorite quote, from one of my favorite cross-dressing, barrier- shattering authors. It’s even written on my bedroom wall. But it wasn’t until 2020 that I began to understand what it really meant. To me.
2020 has been an exceptional year when it comes to endings and beginnings. And I’m sure many are talking and writing about the endings — the death, loss of security, friends, jobs, and in many cases the comfortable systems and institutions, many of us have come to rely on. Like government, education, healthcare, and even traditional family structures and traditions themselves. Others will write and talk about the beginnings — the connections, reconnections and opportunities they have seen happen and become real in the midst of all the chaos.
In my case, however, it’s encouraged me to reflect on a life of constant and repetitive transition and transformation. Like shedding layers of skin. Or, as my good friend and transgender thought-leader Mel Wymore once said to me, “It’s a process of carving the soap of our lives until we discover its core essence. Kind of like Aladdin discovering his own identity as the “Diamond in the Rough” or Mr. Anderson discovering that there are no spoons once he identifies as Neo. It’s the classic hero’s arc and journey.
For me, every 9 years of living, learning and trying to realize what I thought the world wanted me to be, was actually not at all a step about learning and realizing what “it” wanted. It was a journey into myself and finding out what I WANTED. What I want for and from myself. All alone. You see, I was raised to believe our meaning as humans (especially women) comes from the people, institutions and even labels we surround ourselves with. But I didn’t actually believe it. There was a glitch in the Matrix for me, and somehow, I could see an alternative path.
So, in 1984, when I first learned about and was drawn towards social justice, feminism, and nuclear disarmament, I figured my calling was to reject the traditional male and structured household I was raised in and expand my horizons to serve the world. And I did, I fought tooth and nail with my dad about every human rights issue under the sun. And made no progress, either in advancing the world or changing his mind. But that glitch in the matrix did get clearer.
My next step in the transition I can safely say happened as I took myself to Harvard in 1993, pretty much all alone and hoping a path in hard environmental science would choose me. I had already read and learned enough about climate change to be the Grete Thunberg of my day, but the world and Harvard weren’t ready (though I did start a small, and now very powerful, environmental on-campus movement). Instead, academically, I turned to studying the institutions and systems that so carefully shape our worldviews and behavior as humans. Social Anthropology was the study of that matrix I couldn’t quite get my head around. And, it blew my mind. Really. I had a reality crisis, when I understood my spoon might be your fork, or chopstick. But it didn’t matter anyway, because it wasn’t Real. Or the Truth. It was a cultural or artificial imposition of rules to “make sense of the world”.
So, I left school determined to carve a path outside the rules. Which I have to say, is REALLY PAINFUL.
In 2002, after rejecting the social rules and of a traditional, normative life of family of marriage and pursuit of a stable career path or motherhood, I was found by the LGBTQ community of others who simply “don’t fit” and openly break all the rules by expressing individuality. And it has been the warmest alternative family I’ve ever known.
By 2011, I had actually cobbled together what the world considered a successful, even award- winning, career within advertising, positioning myself as a social justice communications strategist, but it honestly felt dishonest to find a cause in disposable diapers or women’s razors. So, I ditched it, I went solo into the growing “gig economy” freelancing for clients I thought I could align with like women entrepreneurs and educational institutions (including Harvard and MIT).
But even there, all the historic stress of the matrix of my life and what the world expected caught up with me and pushed me to the brink of death. Really. Twice. Two rounds of barely surviving terminal cancer diagnoses finally forced me to look in the mirror and make a choice. A real choice. A choice between Me and the World.
In 2020 I chose Me, for the first time in my life.
As Covid-19 arrived in the USA, I was actually in Bermuda, planning to spend the year pursuing something like a physical Eat, Pray Love like journey… but that quickly ended as I returned home to sit in quarantine with only myself and my dog for company. So, my journey went inward looking for answers, rather than asking the world. The answer finally came back in August as I sat alone in a rental house on long-island after hosting a month of guests looking to escape the city. In a flash of a moment I finally saw my life and myself as others have always seen it. I am everything I’ve always wanted to be or might have been all on my own. I am the safe space for others to find love and support. I am the cause that brings people together. I am the laughter and joy that enters every room with me. I am the confidence that speaks truth even when it hurts. I am the middle ground when conflict arises. I am the inspiration for everyone seeking hope and meaning in life. I am the resilience that always gets up no matter how hard the punch. And I am enough.
And with that I charted a new path, this time, truly all alone. I moved back to Bermuda, and I began to practice and share what I have learned about my life with others, as a life transitions coach.
Beginning with you.
So, as you head into 2020, I leave you with another favorite from our friend, George Eliot.
“The strongest principle of growth lies in human choice.”
What will you choose to be in 2021?