This article is important as it forms a crucial part of my life. In many interviews, I brought up this story but briefly. It was difficult to entirely relate my feelings then. Many friends would like to know how I coped with my previous identity and how I have started all a new with my new identity to face everyone. I could only describe this path as painful and full of hardships.
Some say life is like a race; once born, we will be on the route Heaven has designated for us to run. While running the race, many in their ignorance, ran off the track. Consequently they lost their direction, not knowing where to go.
I was in this race myself but the choice was not with me. As I was running, I sometimes found myself taking the form of a spectator by the road side, suddenly seeing another me running very hard with a grimacing face as sweat was pouring off. At that moment, I despised myself for not only running on the wrong track but was forcefully running, donning a mask. Why did I not return to my designated track? Was I afraid of other people’s discriminatory remarks, thus being an object of ridicule? Or afraid of hurting my family and those that I held dear to my heart? Or was I afraid of friends deserting me? I didn’t know for what reason. I only knew that she had been running wearily. Exhaustion had slowly eaten her up. It was arduous, helpless, tough and hopeless. In the end, she lost her bearing.
I admit I was once lost in a life of false pretences. There was no one that I could pour out my problems to. I pretended well, not leaving any signs for others to be suspicious of myfemininity. How I wished I would not grow up then! How lovely it would be had I been the little me, still. I could continue asking my mom to let me wear beautiful skirts, swinging around in front of a mirror, day dreaming of living in a world of my own. And I could wrap a towel around my head, imagining it was my long hair, my crowning glory. That was all of what was needed to satisfy my inner need.
But man can’t stop time from moving on. It was running fast ahead of me. When I discovered that my need was special and different from others, I cocooned myself. How could I face my family and friends? Or how could I even face myself? I hated myself. I blamed myself for what had taken place in my life.
Since the burden of carrying on the family business rested on my shoulder, I lived more fearfully, as I was afraid that what I did would be damaging to them. For endless nights, I sank my head under the pillow, crying. I couldn’t understand why it had to be me, why couldn’t I change that.
Lie, is what I despise most in my life. But my world was built on lie, since I had pretended to be someone I was not for the sake of those who loved me and those whom I loved. I was afraid my difference and disparity would hurt and disappoint them.
At all times, I had to be watchful. I kept my communication and body language well, so as not to reveal any of my femininity. When I failed to do that, unintentionally revealing the softer side of me, I could feel the haunting of jeers and sheepish grins coming from those around me, like a nightmare. More unbearable to my soul was the disappointed look of my family and relatives appearing in my mind over and over again. I didn’t have the faintest idea of what I should have done to run away from all these. Who could save me from this dilemma?
A change of my way of thinking, I tried. I delved into loads of books trying to find an answer. I even sought psychological counselling in the hope to be transformed into a normal person, normal as appeared to many. However, I failed to change myself and came to accept that this was an unchangeable fact. But how will other people accept it, I wondered. I knew they couldn’t. I hated myself. I hated this deceptive appearance.
I was irritated of this falsehood since I was 19 years old. I could see the road ahead was bleak and eerie with no plausible return. Shall I walk this road for good? Piercing shrieks were heard in my heart. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! Why has this happened? Would you give me a way out?” I pleaded.
It seemed that no one heard my cries. I was thrown into total confusion, like no one was able to tell me the reason for living. No one could prove that my presence was meaningful and of value. I felt that I was a failure, good-for-nothing and insignificant. Why should I then stay in this world that didn’t seem to belong to me? This negative thought kept lingering in my mind, piercing every part of me.
One day, my heart came to a conclusion, “Leave this place. It’s not mine.” Clad in a white T-shirt, I went out of my house, walking aimlessly. “It’s time to leave,” I told myself as tears were rolling down my face uncontrollably. The street was particularly quiet. I lost count of how long I had walked. I could only gauge the pain in my heart; it was excruciating. Somehow, that pain was slowly anaesthetized by my tears which were giving way. My mind turned blank. Emptiness roamed my heart. “Go, death will help me break away from this. Everything would be over when the heart stops beating. Why be undecided? It’s time to break loose,” I persuaded myself.
Exhaustion seized me as coldness of the night continued to penetrate deep into my body. I checked into a pub for some doses of alcoholic drinks, hoping that intoxication would churn my courage out to end my life. At this moment, feelings for my family, relatives and friends seemed to have deserted me.
Stars were scarce that night. Walking out of the pub, I felt as if the twinkling stars were bidding farewell to me. I could not recall how I arrived at the street. All I knew was that my body was swaying as I plodded down the street. Cold wind was beating at my face, like it was trying to bring me back to my senses. Sadly, it failed. It had only managed to dry the tears that soaked my face and had given the chill that froze stiff my body. The wind undulated to my back, shaking its head disappointedly before moving on.
Under the influence of alcohol and by a road side in Toronto, Canada, I eventually had picked the courage to bring my eyes to a lone oncoming truck. “Farewell,” I bade to every thing. With my eyes closed, I made a deep breath as freezing air filled my chest, summoning up all energy ready to crash myself unto the truck. Pictures of my body hitting the truck with a splat, severed and bloodied, dominated my mind.
And I moved my foot forward. Making my first step, suddenly, I heard a voice, a voice unheard before, “Please give me a chance and I will tell you the meaning of life.” The voice was soft and tender, yet was very clear to my ears. Those words overwhelmed me.
I was absolutely astounded. My other foot could not move forward for a second step, seemingly nailed to the ground. Dizziness seemed to have faded away. “Vroooom,” the truck flashed past in front of me at breakneck speed. Then, there was stunned silence everywhere.
Who spoke to me? My eyes rigorously searched in all directions. There was no one on the street except the passing truck which had disappeared into the darkness. My feelings were running high. That voice imparted a sense of love, comfort and mercy into my heart. I felt like being consoled after suffering from years of grief. My distraught had somehow turned into tears, bursting without control like a crying baby. I cried my eyes out, falling on my knees by the roadside. That voice was repeatedly played in my mind. A presence of warmth embraced the coldness of my heart. I was plunged into darkness but felt light dawned on me. I couldn’t reason it out over what had happened. Still weeping, I eagerly hoped to hear that voice speaking to me again. But other than sound of the cold wind blowing against the fallen leaves on the road, nothing else was heard.
After the emotional outburst, I regained my composure, wiping my tears away. Such peace that I had not felt before secured me. Those encouraging words were still clinging on my thoughts while I steadily came to my senses. I felt so strongly it was an answer from Heaven. Deep inside, I was persuaded and believed there was a purpose in my life.
With my hopes raised, I went home. Next, I was anxiously waiting for miracle to happen again, that was to be told the purpose of my life. I waited, not daring to step out of my house. It was a long wait that I felt I was part of the furniture. But answer was yet to come. I heard no voices either. After 2 weeks passed, feeling quite disappointed, I went out to a nearby convenience store for a walk. Suddenly, a man who had walked over to me asked, “My friend, do you want to know the purpose of life?” “Good heavens!” my heart rejoiced.
Hence, my life took a turn for the better from that day onward. I was not depressed anymore and I courageously tried to overcome the obstacles that I came across. I didn’t feel hopeless or lost anymore. I was determined to live on. Only then would I find the rainbow in my life. Now, I could boldly face and accept myself. I could be my true self. This is a new starting block for the race in my life. I will give myself another chance to start all over again on the correct lane.
My friends, relatives, family members and parents, especially my dad, have been very supportive. They have accepted me well and have given me their blessings, to the extent of encouraging me to come out of the closet, leaving the days of shunning myself from people as history. Through their encouragements, I have been repeatedly reassured that they have sincerely accepted me. That ended my fear of hurting them by my femininity. Thereafter, I have never felt so at ease before with them. Thinking of it now, I am glad that I didn’t end my life then but gave myself a chance. I do not regret believing that soft voice. Until today, that voice is still fresh in my mind. It reminds me to give myself a chance everyday. It reminds me that in my life, I ought to run a race that is rich in colour and meaning, a race that glitters and shines.
From Jessie Chung
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