The Ariane desert

My mother-in-law came to stay with us for two weeks. This saintly woman – the phrase ‘sweet old lady’ doesn’t do her justice – normally lives with my sister-in-law and her family a couple of miles down the road. They went on their annual two-week summer holiday. She couldn’t travel with them because at her advanced age (she's in her 90s) she's too frail to travel long distances. So her holiday is to stay with us instead.

Although she doesn’t need specialist care, she’s quite unsteady on her feet. She can’t use the stairs unattended and she shouldn’t be left on her own for any length of time. The rest of my family are out at work during the week so I am the first line of defence. I don’t have to entertain her but I do need to stay around and maintain occasional surveillance. Sometimes I can arrange daytime cover so that I can do the shopping or get out on the bike, but mostly I have to be at home.

I am happy to do this, because it’s the right thing and the family are depending on me, but it does limit what I can do. I was surprised at how restrictive it felt – both psychologically and physically. I haven’t be able to dress as Ariane at home, because I’m not alone in the house. And mostly I haven’t been able to go out as Ariane. My immediate family have not (so far) seen my femaleness in a positive light, so I can’t use it to explain my need to go out and socialise.

I did manage one social outing. Last Thursday I went out as Ariane for early-evening drinks with Yvonne at The Cricketers in Farncombe. That meant changing off-site and I wasn’t out for very long. But at least I could be who I really am for a short time and that felt liberating and refreshing. It was natural for me to walk into the pub presenting as female. The bar staff treated me normally and none of the locals stared at me. I am beyond the stage of feeling self-conscious as Ariane now.

Spending this length of time away from the girl is disturbing in a way. Living in boy mode starts to feel normal again. And it's so much easier – I don’t have to use make-up or take care who sees me or wear clothes which are sometimes uncomfortable. OK, I know that’s a fashion choice and I’m not complaining. But the enormous benefits of identifying correctly start to fade away and I’m left with the feeling of slight inconvenience that presenting differently from usual can bring. So it was important to get out with Yvonne last week.

Yesterday the period of surveillance came to an end. My sister-in-law and her family returned from their holiday, a handover was arranged, and we left to go on ours. This is a week in Scotland with my immediate family and added girlfriends. It’s quite amusing to contrast the tropical forecast for southern England next week with the continuous rain and lower temperatures we can expect in the Highlands. But this is a beautiful part of the world and it will be refreshing to be outdoors in the countryside.

I haven’t brought anything of Ariane with me this week except my sense of who I am. There would be no point. There are no opportunities here to get dressed and made up, and spirit myself away into a world of femaleness.

Life will return to normal after the holiday in many ways. Not least in that I will have much more freedom. I will be able to live as Ariane more during the day, and go out as Ariane, and be with people who know and understand. I can return to presenting socially as Ariane with a few close friends and in the accepting church communities where I belong. In the first week of September I will visit St James’s Piccadilly for their quarterly Pride Eucharist, and also take part in an online meeting with new friends in a national network of trans Christians that I only recently discovered. And I can make plans for the future which recognise the girl’s growing need to be heard.

But for the moment, I’m alone in the desert with a definite sense of incompleteness. So this is a verse from Painted Desert by Pat Benatar:

Walkin' in the sundown, I search in vain
Waitin' on the wind that whispers out your name
Through concrete canyons echoing a world of other faces
No direction looks like home
Where is my oasis?