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Becoming Me

Becoming Me

by Jennifer Ann Burnett

Oct. 26, 2003

 

 All through my life, Lord, I must say, I’ve never really been Me;

            When I looked into the mirror, I saw only a false reality.

The world knows a different image than what’s really in my soul.

            All my life I have been longing to be made complete and whole!

 

It’s beyond an easy answer- How can one’s gender be all wrong?

            The very thing most take for granted, has been absent in me all along.

Growing up was such a horror, always struggling to fit in

            Always thinking thoughts of a body change”; how could this not be sin?

 

So through the years I’ve used my power to (mostly) live within the bounds

            Of this world’s manly expectations- “walk the walk” and make the sounds.

But this only has resulted in creating a façade,

            The real person, crushed within me, would still cry out unto her God!

 

When life’s problems and great pressure, sapped my powers to repress

            The female soul within me would come out and I would dress

And do the things I felt were “me”; dream of changing my own body,

            (But knowing that I’d never be what most men would call a “hottie”.)

 

But only for scattered moments could I express my femininity,

            To briefly feel the pleasure and joy, of my emotions living free.

Then be compelled to stuff “her” back, into that deepest, darkest place,

            For my world would surely crumple if people saw mascara on my face.

 

So many times I’d ask the Lord, “Why did You make me so?”

            “Why can’t I be like others, why must my suffering grow?

No matter how productive, my life was still a mess.

            I was never really happy, each “success” meant less and less.

 

In praying for a healing, to either change my body or my mind

            I never got an answer, God kept me waiting a long time!

Until, of late, I despaired of life, even wishing I were dead,

            My health deteriorating, my weight growing more like lead.

 

Soon no matter what I tried, it failed. I could no longer get “on top”!

            The “box” was gradually breaking down; I could not make it stop.

My female self was emerging; I was powerless to keep it in

            Even though I felt so guilty, I knew I couldn’t win.

 

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