Avoiding Emotions: Parents and their Trans Kid
I’ve never been good with expressing my feelings.
In my public speaking events, I joke that the “f-word” in my family is “feelings.” People generally laugh by the comment—I do too, because in a way it is a joke, but more so it’s just the truth. This lack of understanding feelings has caused my skin to become a barrier that keeps my emotions from pushing through the darkness I hold inside. I carry all that I feel in a chamber that runs between my lungs and the back of my throat, the heart being the container that holds what will never be expressed.
I don’t think I’m unique, I think many of us don’t know how to express what is felt inside through words. This is one of the reasons I am a writer—I communicate more effectively through written words versus verbally allowing them to exit my mouth. Due to this hindrance of emotional expression, when I give talks about my life, I may come off as cold, aloof or ambivalent toward my own past interactions with my family.
I recently completed a talk with a room full of two-hundred people, leaving it a standing-room-only event. I felt a little off during the talk, especially when I was asked about my parents or my previous relationship. Throughout my transition and my public speaking I have kept my families’ reactions and stories guarded. There are pieces that I’ve been willing to share, but many events I keep inside; some I was the only witness to, others are known and felt by all that lived within the walls of our country home. What I just wrote is all I am going to say about those memories.
People don’t like this.
I find that in our society today, it’s a struggle to keep all of one’s life and emotions private, especially when what you do is share your life with the world. But some things, including my rawest emotions expressed toward my family aren’t meant to be seen or heard by strangers.
Going back to the talk I referenced earlier, my guarded answers were picked up by a member in the audience who then felt the need to e-mail and tell me, “I lacked a connection to emotions and her heart went out to my parents.”
The first part of her statement is partly true, I even said that during my talk, but the second part pissed me off. I don’t want to take away the potential pain that a family member feels when they discover their child is transgender, but I also don’t want someone to slap me across the face with a statement that is basically saying, “You are emotionless, and I feel so badly that your parents have to deal with you.”
I would feel for my parents if I was the type of person that stole from them, abused them, and/or verbally lashed out at them, but the reality of the matter is, the only thing I did was try to figure out myself and make a life worth living. All while knowing that I wouldn’t receive the support that any kid deserves from their parents. My heart would go out to my parents if as a kid and young adult they would have supported my forms of expression, instead of trying to control or put me down. I grew up constantly apologizing for what I felt and who I was. I became embarrassed and ashamed by my body, my expression, and my personhood.
The e-mail obviously upset me. I’ve learned that when I have this type of physical or internal reaction to something it means it’s something I’m still dealing with. From this, I realized that for the past thirty-two years of my life I have also felt sorry for my parents. I felt sorry that they had to have a kid like me who didn’t fit into their world. I felt sorry that I had to put them through my bouts of depression, my struggle with an eating disorder, my coming out as lesbian and then as trans. I felt bad for the stress my mom went through and the six months of non-communication with my dad. I felt bad that they never really talked to me because they chose a life of travel and infrequent phone calls over seeing me or their other kids. I took out their avoidance and reactions on myself.
As I had this realization, I felt a rush of sadness overtake me, which included tears trying to push through my held breath and mind telling them not to come out. I know that I am not responsible for their reactions, and no matter how hard I try, my family will never be the family we all wish we had. It’s sad, but also ironic. My whole family adores the old movies that show families bonding through vacations, tragedies, hardships or laughter, but much like how my emotions are stuck, so are we. I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to fix it, but I know that because of this realization, I’ll continue to be someone other families can contact, with the hope they can open up to each other and develop a bond that goes beyond an aspect of one’s identity.
Ryan Sallans
Diversity Trainer & Consultant
www.ryansallans.com
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