I haven’t been publishing much this month.

Starting a draft, I’ll pretty quickly decide that I have said this before and no one heard it, so why bother doing it again?

People heal in their own time and in their own way.   They mostly hold onto their fears, their rationalizations, their separations, their survival structures until they don’t work anymore and they have to turn to love, to vulnerability, to connection, and to transformative growth to move to another level.

This means that I have to love them fears and all until they can get to the point that they are able to open up and be present for me.   One of my greatest challenges is to be like Shaw’s tailor, measuring people anew every time that I meet them and holding open the space for their transformation.

Most of the time, of course, people are not going to have changed, not going to have opened and blossomed, not going to accept the miracle of seeing the world in a new way, not going to have moved away from their old habits, but sometimes, yes, sometimes, they might see a bit of light and then it’s my job to say “yes,” to encourage them to own the new possibilities that crack of  illumination holds.

It can take a long, long time, take many interactions for this to happen, and during that time, they still can act out of fear, anger and frustration.   When they act out against me, I need to be able to turn the other cheek, need to be able to respond with grace and with love, rather than reacting from my own unhealed places.

They last out and I need to be able to take the hit and move on, holding them tenderly as they give the call for love.  This often leaves me bruised and isolated, needing my own healing, but as a transperson on a very individual path, that is just one more thing I have to do on my own.

All of this is codified in “What You Need To Know About My Transgender” from 2002, it exists in my writing before that, and has been elaborated on in great detail over the past fourteen years.

Will saying it again make a difference?   Can I now find a way to package it up so it people can understand and mirror me, be present for me in a way that serves me with love and compassion?

Every communication expert will tell me that sharing demands work both on the part of the sender and the receiver.

I have, ever since I needed to understand why my Aspergers parents couldn’t be present for me when I was very, very young, striven to become a better receiver, a better listener, really being able to engage the meaning of what other people are sending, to mirror it back to them, to care for and about them.

Finding receivers who are ready to return the service, the love, well, not so easy.    I am too stupid, overwhelming, queer, intense, difficult, complex, complicated, sharp, challenging, demanding, sensitive, visceral and a whole mess of other words for people who we just have decided to put into the “too hard” basket.

Why bother spending the time, the effort, and yes, the hope to say it again with the desire to really break through this time, really offer a kind of sharing that opens minds and hearts, really gives people an access point and motivation into being present with and for me?

So I start and end, keeping notes on what I want to say, what I need to share, but then not doing the work to finish up and publish anything.   Who is going to hear?  What impact will I have?  Isn’t it all just pointless?

Plenty of me out there to go through, though I know that few people will find time, energy, desire or need to go back and engage what I have shared over the last eleven years of this blog, the past twenty five years of my writing.   They want new and simple, easy and fresh, because that’s easier to get and ignore.  It’s like all those therapists who want to start from a new beginning because it’s their model of me that counts, not the real and rich history of my own. Linking back, well isn’t that just the past, and we need to work in the present?

I know why people don’t hear, why they can’t hear, why they are consumed by their own challenges, their own stages of their own growth.   I know that because I listen, like a mother, and I have been doing that from a very young age when my mother had no capacity to listen to me, and for a very long time even as people looked at my body and wrote me off as another guy, because how could I possibly have the heart of a mom?

I can share this all again and again and again and again, knowing that service takes persistence, takes commitment, takes investment.   Try, try, try again, take the blows and get back up, keep going, because where there is life there is hope.

This month, though, it all feels rather pointless to keep paying the price and getting back bubkes.

Winter comes, you know?