Waking is Bravery

T: are you coming tonight?
K: I don’t know yet.
T: Silas is going to be there.
K: I love him.
T: I love him, too.

basically: my friends are awesome.

Today I asked my friends to start calling me by a male name and pronouns (for those of you who didn’t hear from me, it’s not a slight in any way — I’m trying this out in Columbus first, and since I haven’t told many people back home, I simply haven’t told anyone.  Expect an e-mail soon; in the meantime, call me whatever you’re comfortable with, but please don’t say anything to anyone yet.  There are still a few people I need to talk to, and I’m not out to my parents yet at all so I’m paranoid that it’s somehow going to find its way back to them, even though no one from my hometown reads this).  I’ve decided on Silas for the time being, and people have been so incredibly supportive.  I’ve gotten e-mail upon e-mail from friends and classmates telling me how happy they are for me, addressing me as Silas, etc.  I met my friend’s little sister today and she introduced me as Silas without hesitation; it means a lot to me.

The thing is, though, it feels weird.  The pronouns feel right — a few of my friends have called me “he” in the past, and it’s felt really fucking good.  But the name thing…I don’t know.  I haven’t been able to stop crying all day.  Every time someone says it, it just…I don’t know.  I like the name Silas.  It feels like it’s my name.  But at the same time, I feel like I’m mourning the loss of my old name.

I’ve never been all that attached to it.  My parents named me Lindsay at birth and it’s just been…kind of there.  It’s okay.  It’s not my favorite name in the world, but it’s done alright by me.  It doesn’t feel especially feminine to me.

What I am attached to, though, are a couple of nicknames.  My brother has always called me Lin.  My closest friends call me Linds.  And the last couple of years of undergrad, I was “ay” because one of my closest friends was Lindsey (“ey”).

I think it has to do with the love behind those nicknames.  When my brother calls me Lin, it’s affectionate.  When my friends call me Linds, it’s always full of love.  When Lindsey wrote e-mails to me and said, “Dear ay,” it always felt like our own kind of inside joke/this expression of our closeness.

All day long, I’ve been thinking about the conversation I’m going to have with my best friend in Columbus, eventually, about this big change.  I keep trying to picture her reaction, think about what she’s going to say.  And every time, in my head, it starts with her saying, “Linds.”  And I have such complicated fucking feelings about that.  Because what if she does?  Will I be relieved?  Will I be upset because she’s calling me by my birth name, instead of the name I’ve chosen?  Will it send me the message that she doesn’t support my decision, even if she says she does?  And what if she doesn’t start with that one syllable?  What if she says “Silas” instead?  Will I be relieved that she gets it, that she wants me support me?  Or will I mourn the fact that she won’t ever say that to me again, won’t ever call me that one syllable name, bursting with friendship?

And shouldn’t I hate my name?  If this is really who I am, if this is really the right decision for me, shouldn’t I be grateful that my friends have so readily adopted my chosen name?  Does this mean that I’m wrong?

the last 40 minutes of this movie are so fucking hard to watch.

i’m doing my best to hold it together by not actually paying that much attention to what’s happening on the screen.  ugh.

hipster baristas making horror movie jokes.

help.

and laughing about the fact that they are so shocked by the scene where Brandon gets ready in the morning by binding his chest and packing because it just seems so familiar to me.