Life! Sometimes it simply sucks itself right out of you. In a flash, a simple combination of words, conveyed in a short message, the kind of message we get in a text message, a Facebook comment, an e-mail; and all the breath that is your hope, your dreams, your purpose, it all evaporates. And I ask, “Why did that happen?” Why didn’t I see that coming? The reason we don’t … the reason I didn’t see that coming, was that it came from sources I would have never suspected. The worst part is that it must be born alone.

The words to Gilbert O’Sullivan’s “Alone again … Naturally!” come to mind. “… reality came around, and without so much as mere touch broke me into little pieces, leaving me to doubt, talk about God and His mercy, who if He really does exist, why did He desert me? In my hour of need, I truly am indeed, Alone again … Naturally!” The words are probably out of order but the feeling remains, and there are so many ways to describe it.

I’ve spent more hours alone than I care to remember; all nighters alone on a tractor going back and forth with nothing to do but think; late nights on lonely highways trying to get home before exhaustion gained the upper hand. The lonely nights haven’t all been on the road. I’ve lost count of the lonely nights at the office preparing proposals for clients. For years, the nights on the road and the office were usually spent with a bottle of liquor to dull the sense of loneliness.

Loneliness at this point in my life is different though. In years past there was always an end to the loneliness in sight. There was someone at the end of the loneliness to share the day’s successes … and especially the disappointments with. Those times didn’t always require conversation. As often as not, the simplicity of the touch of a hand did more than a book of words.

There were many times when being alone was welcomed. As you might suspect, those times were often times when the thoughts were not something other people would understand. They were times when the two halves of this soul were engaged in a tug-of-war over how to make this dual nature work in a way that satisfied both and the thought of another human being understanding what was going on was incomprehensible. All in all, loneliness has had certain advantages, but the disadvantages have begun to accumulate.

The years learning to live alone before I met Marilyn were tough, but there was an end to those. The five years it took to research, write and publish “Dear Mom and Dad” were spent mostly alone but I felt there was a purpose to it. Maybe there is a purpose to the current loneliness but I don’t see it yet.

I feel as though I’m probably just being a whiner, but I sense a huge change coming in my life and frankly it’s unnerving as all get out. One of the greatest parts, if not the greatest part, of my life is withering and it’s breaking my heart. I find myself complaining to just about anyone who’ll listen, but that’s not what I should be doing and I’m not certain what, if anything, I should do. I have for the last five years found in my church family a certain sense of security which has camouflaged the real need. The fact is that I miss the security of un-loneliness.

At times I want to scream at God so I do. “What did I do to deserve this? Are you ever going to forgive me for those years of ignoring you except when I was desperate? Why did you make me this way?” And in that last question is the real crux of the problem.

I realize that for a “tranny” (dual natured-tranny if you will) I’m extremely fortunate that God gave me a body and other characteristics that work quite well to make my life far more pleasant than many others in the same circumstance, but … Like so many others in the same situation I’m caught between the devil and the deep blue sea; be who I am and suffer the slings and arrows or be who the world thinks I should be and be miserable.

Straight people just simply don’t care for us all that much, most gay men are nice to us but don’t want to get too close and the lesbian community while far more accepting is, for the most part, just not interested in anymore than a hug, maybe a little kiss and conversation, but that’s it, because after all … we’re not the real McCoy. Pinocchio had it better. In the end he got to become what he longed to be … real. True, he had to go through the long nose bit, and the donkey’s ears and tail, but in the end those “unpleasant parts” vanished and he was accepted as … real, with a heart and soul.

And that’s the point … It shouldn’t matter what’s under my skirt and no one but my doctor knows for sure, and the one person who’s not going to care what’s there will know for sure, because it’s my heart and soul that count. Until that happens, I will suffer with bouts of temporary long nose, donkey’s ears and tail … loneliness … its part of life.