Lately, I’ve been experiencing a version of isolation that I haven’t had before. The way major life changes can distinctly separate a before and after, creating a stark line between chapters, I see my separation with my wife as one of the biggest turn of events of my life, one that I’m still recovering from on so many levels. During the first two years after separating, the pull to become a hermit and look inward resulted in me not socializing very much, and even had me side-eyeing just about every friendship. I’d learned from my sister that my ex was sharing personal and inflated stories about me. A lot of our shared friends seemed to empathize with her over me. The few people who reached out to offer support, I admittedly wasn’t very quick to take it. I was depressed. I didn’t know how to tell people I am trans. My ex outed me to people before I was ready to talk about it. I felt wildly misunderstood, however I was just beginning to learn how to let people misunderstand me and keep on living my life without that slowing me down.
The latest stark line was drawn on March 17th, a few weeks ago. An evening with my sisters that was presented to me as a night of pulling tarot cards and tapping into spirituality didn’t end up being that at all. The aftermath had me spiraling emotionally, in a very familiar and painful way. I wrote my memories of that night down here and later removed it because someone told me that my sister tells a different story of what happened and I felt absolutely insane. I know exactly what happened, the things that were said to trigger me, the dedication they seemed to share in trying to convince me I’ve lost empathy. While I felt in my body that I was activated, I managed to not have a big reaction or say anything I didn’t mean. They teamed up against me and decided in front of me that I’m not worth having a relationship with. The last thing my twin said to me was, “I’m making a boundary right now, you need to leave my house.”
Whether or not that was the intended outcome, I only heard what I heard and believed it. If they wanted me to argue or fight it, that’s on them. It hurt like hell. Part of growing for me has been releasing the sense of responsibility I was groomed to have, to decode other people’s words and intentions and bend my reality to theirs. In a way, my body felt this possible rupture long before it happened. When I tried to tell my brother what happened, his response was “(S) is going through a lot. (R) too. I’m not surprised that happened. It’s a shame this is happening to our family.”
What I have seen come from my family since coming out as trans is the awkward, avoidant, unacknowledged lack of support I was afraid of. I remember this from when I was 4 and 5 years old. The hardest part of becoming myself is learning to be kind to that young version of me. I hated myself very early in life and carried it with me until my early 30s. With realizing I will not combust or go to hell if I am openly trans unsurprisingly came self-acceptance and dedication to protect myself from harm. And my siblings, parents… they’ll never know the disappointment and pain I’ve felt from their absence. Because to them, my transness is a result of something influencing me rather than just who I fucking am. They can’t celebrate with me.
So this new isolation is while I have felt a big shift happening for me. I started talking about this phase of my life as a shedding of a layer, coming free from the cocoon I’ve been in. I have been more and more interested in socializing and making steps to do so. However, I’m living in a town that I never felt totally settled in and I’m actively looking to move to western Massachusetts. There’s a solar eclipse happening tomorrow afternoon and I feel this energy pulling me like the water rushing down the sand to return back into a huge ass wave, burying my feet and keeping me still. I’m ready for the changes that are coming, lonely as fuck as I am.
On March 15th, I legally took the name Liam Francis Nenno and I’ve had sparkly moments at random ever since, getting mail from my banks, new debit cards, new ID, all displaying my name. The little rewards amount to confidence and security in myself. Everything I’ve lost made room for gain. I’m so excited to keep becoming me. The tangible and genuine support I’ve felt from close friends and even some strangers makes this all possible.
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