A Daddy That Serves… in Pain: One man’s perspective on loving and giving – and yet, being invisible

One night I was reading through journal entries on a website, and I stumbled across this: a man’s plea to be heard and be loved for who he truly is.

He is a transman, that is, someone who was born and brought up female who now lives as a man. As it is, men are already trained not to be able to share themselves intimately and society often expects a gray, lonely stoicism from them; this man’s situation poses a ton of other challenges – greater feelings of being invisible; feelings of never being able to be fully loved and understood, despite feeling and sharing so much love with others.

Here is what he wrote about his life, his grief, and his hope that caught my eye.

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Being a Daddy has offered me so many ways to help guide, support, nurture, love, and care for. The more I give others, the less emptiness I feel inside.

The hole. The hole in my soul that grabs at everything of this world to try and fill it. A Daddy that serves? Yes. I serve adults with developmental disabilities during the day (10 years now Monday through Fridays). A Daddy that serves? Yes. I serve drug and alcohol addicted adults. I offer them hope, a way out, and a mirror to help them find their beauty, strength, passion, and promise of a clean slate Every day.

A Daddy that serves? I worked 5 nights, 2 jobs, for almost 8 years. To pay for the home in a good neighborhood for my children. Hours spent with homework, taking them camping, listening to their greatest and saddest part of their days.

A Daddy that serves? I moved 3000 miles away to love a woman. I offered her my strengths, fears, insecurities, help, guidance, honesty, and acceptance of her. Trips, flowers, jewelry? All that which pales in comparison to hours upon hours asking for her views, beliefs, desires, passions. Cooking, cleaning (20% of all she did in those areas so I do fall short).

A Daddy that serves? I worked 5 days and 5 nights to provide for my family. My clothes? Good-Will. Their clothes? $75 dollar jeans. My shampoo, Suave, theirs, whatever they need to feel good about themselves.

A Daddy that serves? Baths filled with bubbles and a gentle washing of my wife where I bath her in compliments, listening, trust, and constant effort to show her all of her beautiful traits.

A Daddy that serves? To fly my mother from coast to coast for weeks at a time. To listen as she processes all of her past pains and hurts. To offer flowers and cards, just cuz. To paint her house, mow her lawn, deliver her my perspective of her greatest qualities of love, kindness, and wonder.

A Daddy that serves? My brother who I fought every person who taunted or picked on him for his weight, or teeth, or insecurities. Listening to him for hours as he calls me drunk and confused over how his life in shambles hurts him. Christmas eve he tells me he “suddenly remembers that in 3rd grade, when he was 6, I raped him every day of his life!!! He calls old neighbors, past friends, and family members telling them I was not his protector but his perpetrator. How can I defend memories that do not exist except in the mind of a wounded man who drinks his life into oblivion and blames all for his problems?

A Daddy that serves? I listen for hours to my family and friends that suffer from the pains of life. I point out their unique traits, the importance of their very existence, their value to so many.

A Daddy that serves? To shovel the elderly woman’s driveway because her husband has passed on and she would be trapped. The neighbor who lost his wife so I cook many dishes to he eats and tries to find a way to bring her back into his heart.

A Daddy that serves? To wash my girls feet, to comb her hair, to write her beautiful poems, run her aching body, listen for hours to her past pains caused by those she loves most.

A Daddy that serves? To know God gave mt this life for his use, for his children, for his love.

A Daddy that serves? Driving a disabled son to school spending hours with his homework to later bail him from jail for another chance.

A Daddy that serves? To watch my grandson for 7 months to have him stripped away because I seem to have mattered too much for him.

A Daddy that serves? Who took the sexual abuse, asked for help, and was told “he probably thought it was me because he was drunk. Take 2 aspirins and you’ll feel differently in the morning after you apologize for hurting his feelings for telling and putting the family in pain.

How blessed I am to Ever have been loved. To Ever received a phone call from anyone! To always have a place to lay my head, even when my apartment burned to the ground in front of me.

I have had my chest cut away, my organs stripped from my body, surgery after surgery, hormones, clothing, haircuts, counseling, 12-Step programs that require I look at EVERY aspect of what makes me a human. Hours of exercise, dieting (lost 50 lbs at one point).

I must confess to all of my fellow brothers, sisters, Tops, bottoms, slaves, Masters, Doms and Dommes, switches, gender benders, straights, queers, bi’s, and all other colors of the spectrum……

I Desperately needed to be heard tonight. My heart shatters in so many pieces they slip through my fingers in pools of self pity and despair. I am so, so, very lonely.

I sit in a room, home, building, car, forest, event, and day of friends, family, strangers, acquaintances, and people of Every walk of life. I feel invisible, as if the winds of life pour through my soul and yet they touch nothing.

A Daddy serves? I have served to the point where the sound of my voice makes me want to break down in tears. My thoughts remind me that Transgender people like me belong no where. I have heard lesbians call me a traitor for not being “butch enough and a let down to the sisters”. I have had gay men tell me “your a wanna be man”. Straight men have laughed at my body as I try and change quickly in the gym locker room. My parts are too small, my scars are too hideous, my hands and feet look like that of a child. A straight woman actually pulled her child away from me. It seems there is a fear that I am “contagious”. Womens’ leather events have let me know the letter M on my drivers license means Unwelcomed. The men on the softball team informed me that “even though you threw away perfectly good tits, you’ll never be a man”.

A Pinocchio. I too wish I was a “Real Boy”. The child in “A.I” only wished to be allowed to live and be loved. David slayed the giant. How do I slay the voice of my father who told me “no matter what you do, what you wear, you will NEVER be a man”.

A Daddy that serves? I ache. I ache to be looked into the eyes and not hated because of my scars. I ache for companionship that is desired, not because “you fuck longer than anyone I’ve ever met”, or “could you fix my house/car, I’m sure you couldn’t screw it up like most “Women”.

I ache for a cup of coffee sitting across from each other by a fire and share in the wonder of the beauty of the canopy of trees with stars that twinkle in splendor. I crave for someone to walk with me, not behind, not in front, just by my side. I crave to be held until I gather the strength to cry. You know, really cry where it’s OK to make a sound, where I feel safe, cared for, and not humiliated for having emotions I pushed down for so long so that I could Serve.

I desire a friend. The kind that will meet me half way. The person who loves to laugh, be silly, and find joy in touching the morning dew on the sweet grass at sunrise.

Do I ache for anything that everyone else does not want? Does service mean use and abuse? I refuse to take my pain and Ever throw it another beautiful human heart in anger. My father taught me to “hurt them before they hurt you so they Never think of causing you pain”. LIES! No body on this earth deserves to be dismissed, pushed to one side, traded like baseball cards of higher dollar value. Everyone wishes to be listened to don’t they?

Don’t we all wish to be loved as we ARE, not how others Think we should be? Can’t we sometimes agree to disagree as your opinion and mine matter equally? Can’t I hold open your door, take your shoes off after a long hard day, and make you your favorite dinner, “just because”?

This Daddy that serves……………..simply aches to be seen. Let us serve each other equally, with purity of heart, compassion of a thousand hugs, and a tear wiped away by the lips that speak kindness, not judgment.

My crime? My verdict of guilt? I Serve. I am human. I make mistakes and pray with all my heart and soul……..that my very EXISTENCE…..is not a mistake.

Please forgive me dear reader for my rambling on. I simply am putting a flier into the night in hopes that someone can see me. I pray that someone understands what I feel, knows the loneliness in a crowded room, understands that self judgment is not only unfair, but cruel. I hope that someone, anyone, can truly SEE ME!

Thank you all for allowing me this chance to share my fears, my pains, my journey, my walk. I hope that someday soon……someone…..will walk with me and share their greatest gift…………Themselves@@@@

In gratitude,

D.R.

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If you want to express any feelings of camaraderie, solidarity, or empathy to this man, just leave a comment here below and I will inform him.

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5 Responses to A Daddy That Serves… in Pain: One man’s perspective on loving and giving – and yet, being invisible

  1. Starkat says:

    It will get better. I don’t know everything about your situation, but maybe it’s time to stop serving others, and instead serve yourself for a while? If you had friend who felt as you do, wouldn’t you help them relax? So help yourself. Take time off, and do what’s best for you.

    That’s the best I can say. I book I’ve found very helpful at times like these is “Hello, Cruel World” by Kate Bornstein, who’s a transwoman author/performer. You might want to check it out.

    My thoughts are with you.

  2. Rachel says:

    If you ever need someone to talk to under the stars, a quite moment in the maelstrom, or a serenity in the madness please email me. I understand the place you are in (I am MTF), and appreciate the aching that comes from seeking a place for yourself in the world.

    I am happy for you to email me – rachel@randomacts.biz, so if you would like to talk please feel free to contact me.

    Rachel

  3. Dustin says:

    That was beautiful. Thank you for sharing something precious.

  4. straight guy, suffered child neglect and abuse says:

    I can relate.

    • But of course you can relate. :-) Truly, after all is said and done, though our experiences be vastly different, they all point back to the same burning holes in our souls that cry out to be healed.

      Good luck to you, dear reader.

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