Digging in the Dirt

"You can try to run, but you can't hide from what's inside of you"
"Any Major Dude" Steely Dan

I started my blog last March because I had a desperate need to express myself and be heard. It really started in February. One weekend I picked up a legal pad and starting writing the things that were going round and round my head. The first two entries in my blog were already composed before I opened the blog, and several subsequent entries were fleshed out on paper before I typed them. Eventually, I got comfortable in my writing voice, and started composing on the fly, which is the rule now.

But back before the blogging, I wrote a third piece, which I have never submitted to this forum. It was the piece I wrote that first weekend, and it spilled out of me a few sentences at a time over the course of an afternoon, with little editing. This is the oldest artifact of the Lesliezoic Era, and having run across it last week, I decided the time has come for it to see the light. A lot of the material within it has played out on these pages the last ten months. The extended metaphor is kinda obvious and cliched, but I have a soft spot for this one. Having lowered expectations (I hope), I present:

Two Hearts

I possess two hearts. The heart I've shown the world most of the last thirty years is something I cobbled together from cardboard, corrugated tin, and duct tape. It's genuine, it's handcrafted, it's uncomplicated. But it's falling apart, and doesn't have much value to me.

My true heart is made of a shiny metal. Not a heart of gold, but silver or copper, maybe. It's built to last, but it's been in storage for many years. It's tarnished but functional. I was born with this heart. It's original equipment.

My wife has really only known the cheap knockoff. She's attached to it. It's the heart she fell for. I'd like to retire this heart, put it out to sea and set it ablaze. A person only needs one heart. My wife doesn't want to know my true heart. You see, my true heart is female.

Why hide my true heart from her for so long? Fear of rejection. Fear she would think less of me. Fear that it would break her heart. I hid it from myself until very recently. How can you not know your own heart?

The fears are coming true. She rejects the idea of me being female. She thinks less of me for believing this silly notion. And ultimately, her heart will be broken. How many years must I be an imposter, lying to her and the world? I'm not fooling myself anymore, and it's getting harder to fool others. When do I start living for myself?

There you have it, my most ancient relic. As Tina told me recently, I've come a long way, baby. And I've reached a much better place.