He was at a cliff, back then. An end to the path, overlooking the ocean. Above him, endless sky that he couldn't traverse, that he couldn't reach; before him the sea of endless possibilities. If he fell from the cliff, if he jumped, or tumbled, or lost his footing, it meant certain doom.
And yet he persisted. He stood on that cliff, wondering what he should do at what felt like the end of time.
He could turn back, walk away from the cliff and ignore the feeling of missing something until it inevitably haunted him enough to return and stare out at the sea to wonder once again. He'd done it enough times to know that he would always come back. He would always think of what would happen if he carefully descended the cliff, like others had done before. What would life be like once he reached the beach below? How would he sail that vast ocean, full of trials and hardships that he had never seen before?
He knew others had sailed that sea, and found a happiness in that life, and that as they sailed onward they discovered their own new lands and a happiness unbound by feelings of guilt or shame or.. or pure, existential terror. That ocean stripped away one's identity to the core of their being and rebuilt them. Few returned to ever scale back up the cliff, some damaged, others ragged, but the vast majority stayed gone, leaving a husk of who they used to be behind as they forged a new, better life.
Who was he to challenge what he was born into? Who was he to wonder what a better life could be when he was already stable and employed?
He was who he was, of course. And when he told his closest friends, they became his pitons- his stability. And when he joined support groups and made more friends from all over the world they became his harness. And when he told the person he was most afraid to tell, his lover, they told them they would still, and always, love him- and they became his rope.
And he descended. It was quicker than he thought, for the cliff was tall. A mountain cut in two by society fighting between what is Normal and Tradition and what is Good and Valid. He descended and took rest and checked supplies before carrying on again.
And when she reached the bottom of the cliff she looked up and saw the work of her descent- the many pitons left in the wall from not just her journey but the journey of others as they too descended bravely forward. Some paths had many anchors and were lucky; others had barely any. Some, it seemed, descended freely with no support at all. She was not envious of them, but sad that they had gone through that harrowing trip in such a state.
And when she looked out at the sea before her, the short, churning waves pushing into the shore, it looked so beautiful. It was life unbound by the thought of inadequacy or regret, and she cried. She sobbed long and hard until her tears dried and her eyes ached.
And when she had finally recovered and stood to look again, she wondered what had taken her so long to make the descent. Down the shore, she saw others completing their own descents and found similar reactions.
She approached the shoreline, letting the water wash over her bruised feet. The coolness felt like nothing else.
She saw a skiff approach the beach, an older man rowing slowly in the waves.
"Hi there, young lady. I'm glad you finally made it down. I want to tell you that you aren't alone."
She nodded, and the man rowed his little boat away, going to each and every person on the beach to tell them the same thing. Men and women alike came up to the shore, greeting the recent climbers and gave them tips to build their own boats. How to make them strong, how to sail when the weather gets nasty. And, of course, that they were welcome in the Sea of Transition.
This is a short story inspired by someone very close to me, and my own personal experiences. I originally posted it on Tumblr, but since there are so many people jumping ship right now, I thought it best to post it here too. The story is about being trans and while I think that metaphor was obvious as hell, the reading comprehension on tumblr fucking sucks and I haven't seen much discourse on Cohost so I can't tell yet.
The point is: I love you. I want you to hear that. I love you. You are loved and accepted and I love you. You are not alone. Trans man, woman, nonbinary, fluid, aspec, whatever you are, whomever you are,
I LOVE YOU.