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Rain was falling and I was tossing and turning.  Everything annoyed me.  The bed was too short, the blankets were too thin, the air was too still, my knees hurt and the rain wasn’t soothing enough and, and, and there was a vague sense of feeling like I was trapped in a body I did not belong in and there was no escape.  I was in contention with everything and every one and most of all with myself.

The morning bell rang at 6:15 and I was eager to get up, eager to get out of the muggy tent and out of my body which had become a stranger to me ever since agreeing to start taking Testosterone again in the hopes of building bone mass so as to ward off for a few more years, the dreaded Osteoporosis  that the medical profession tells me I am at risk for.  I trudged down the hill in the early morning chill and did the only thing I could – I sat.  I parked my ass in a chair, pulled a blanket snug around me, closed my eyes and tried to focus on my breath.  Fat chance!

I felt fat.  I felt armored.  I felt my heart tight and closed down, and I watched as my testosterone fueled mind churned up anger, rage, hatred, and fear.  I watched as the stories took on more depth and color and broadened out.  I watched  without getting hooked in the stories – watched without identifying with the anger and rage and watched as the hatred and fear that had found a home in me gently disappeared and passed as all storms eventually do – if we allow them to do so without latching on and without getting sucked into the eye and as the storm clouds parted I saw what I needed to do.

Window PaneI have Klinefelter’s syndrome.  It is genetic.  It means that my body does not naturally produce much if any Testosterone and because of that it means as well that my brain is wired slightly differently, that the way I put the world together is a little askance from the ways men with XY Chromosomes or women with XX Chromosomes put the world together.  A Klinefelter has 47 Chromosomes we are XXY and there are differences and I wish to explore them and I wish to embrace them.

Instead of hiding my genetic condition which many of us had to do in order to obtain health insurance, and which I was taught to do by my gay father who did not live in a time or a place where one could openly come out of the various closets we all have and stash things in….Instead of taking the path I have most often taken in this life when presented with an opportunity to do something brave and courageous – run/hide – this time I think I will do something noble.  I think I will actively practice loving myself – all of myself – not just the parts of me that I like or are acceptable to society – all that is.  And I think I will become active in the community of others who are classified somewhere along the transgender/Intersex spectrum and I am embracing those aspects of myself that I have long rejected and refused to claim as essential qualities of who I am.

So, I am opening my arms and heart to these differences, I am  searching them out and I am joining with others I am claiming my place within the rainbow.

Among all the known genetic disorders that occur, Klinefelter’s is the most predominant.  Statistically wise, it occurs 1 in 500.  So in a world with lets say 6 Billion people – that’s a lot of guys just like me walking around trying to make sense of the world.  This is an open call to any other XXY folk out there to send me an email.  I’ve never met, to my knowledge, another Klinefelter male and I’d surely love to do so.

 

 

 

 

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