This Is How It Always Is

Once Upon a Chrysalis

Imagine, if you will, a world where the very essence of your being is a question mark in the eyes of others, where the skin you're born into feels like an ill-fitting garment you're expected to wear with grace. That's where my story begins, in the tender cocoon of childhood, a place that should have been safe and nurturing.

I was born Claude, the youngest of five boys, a name that clanged like a heavy bell, echoing a melody that wasn't mine. I grew up in a loving family, but even the warmest embrace can't always shield you from the chill of confusion when your soul whispers secrets your life doesn't seem ready to hear.

Perhaps you, too, have felt this discord, a sense that the role you've been handed doesn't showcase your truest self. Like a script for a play you never auditioned for, you perform day after day, waiting for a moment of revelation, a sign that there's more to your story than the lines you've been reciting.

That's the thing about life, isn't it? It's a play where we're all understudies to our own characters, learning as we go along. For me, that sign came in the form of a dress, a cascade of fabric that felt like freedom, the first time my reflection didn't feel like a stranger.

It was a simple thing, really, but isn't it often the simplest things that wield the most power? The softness of the fabric, the way it swayed—it spoke to me in a language I'd been aching to understand. It was the beginning of a transformation I could barely articulate but knew I needed to embrace.

The Unfurling of Wings

Life's metamorphosis is rarely a solitary journey. For every step I took, my family's footsteps echoed alongside mine.

They grappled with the unknown, a concept that can be as frightening as it is exhilarating. They learned to say 'Poppy' when 'Claude' no longer fit, a new name for a spirit in bloom.

We stumbled, we fell, we picked each other up. It was in those moments of vulnerability that our bonds were tested and fortified, like steel in the forge of adversity.

I wonder if you've felt that too—the tremble in the hands of someone you love as they try to hold your truth, even when it's heavy. It's a weighty thing to ask someone to see you, truly see you, when you're still learning to see yourself.

Yet, isn't that the crux of our shared human experience? We're all seeking connection, recognition, a mirror in the eyes of another that reflects our most authentic self. My parents, a doctor and a writer, faced their own odyssey, a navigation of the heart's complex geography as they sought to chart a course for a child whose map was drawn in unfamiliar constellations.

They wrestled with decisions that bore the heft of my future, each choice a stepping stone or a stumbling block on my path. Their love was the compass that guided us, even when the way forward was shrouded in the mist of uncertainty.

The Art of Becoming

Throughout my journey, I encountered teachers, those silent custodians of wisdom who saw more than a name or a gender—they saw a person. There was Mr.

Tongo, who taught me that the world's palette is vast and that every hue, every shade, contributes to the masterpiece of existence. His classroom was an alchemy of ideas, where questions were more valuable than answers and where 'different' was just another word for 'unique.

' Can you remember a time when someone's belief in you was the wind beneath your wings? When the right word, at the right moment, was a key turning in the lock of your potential? We all have those moments, those people, who help us unfurl a little more, to stretch towards the sunlight of our aspirations. Mr.

Tongo was that person for me, the one who taught me that becoming isn't a destination; it's the journey itself. And then, there were the less benevolent instructors, the ones who unwittingly schooled me in resilience.

Their skepticism and rigid expectations were the sandpaper that smoothed my edges, honing a strength I might not have found otherwise. They reminded me that opposition can be as formative as support, that sometimes our greatest lessons are wrapped in the guise of adversity.

The Language of Love

My siblings, a raucous band of brothers, were my first companions in the dance of life. Their acceptance was unspoken, a given as natural as the air we breathed.

They taught me the language of love, not through grand gestures, but through shared laughter, through the shorthand of mutual history. They showed me that love doesn't question; it simply is.

Maybe you've known that kind of love, or maybe you're still learning its dialect. It's a language that transcends words, a communion of souls that understands without explanation.

It's the kind of love that says, 'You are mine, and I am yours,' without reservation or condition. We all crave that connection, a place where we can be our most unguarded selves and still be embraced.

But love also speaks in tough truths and uncomfortable conversations. It challenges us to grow, to confront the parts of ourselves and each other that we'd rather leave in the shadows.

My brothers were my mirrors, reflecting back at me both my light and my darkness, helping me navigate the complexities of identity and belonging.

The World Beyond the Door

As I ventured beyond the safety of my family's embrace, the world greeted me with a spectrum of reactions. There were those who embraced my truth with open arms, allies in the truest sense, who stood as bulwarks against the tide of misunderstanding.

Their solidarity was a lighthouse in a sea of judgment, a beacon reminding me that no journey is made alone. Have you felt that? The solidarity of strangers who become friends, who become family? It's a testament to the human spirit, our capacity for empathy and our innate desire to uplift one another.

In these connections, we find the strength to stand a little taller, to assert our place in a world that often feels made for someone else. Yet, there were others whose fear and prejudice erected walls where there should have been bridges.

Their words, like arrows, sought to pierce the armor I'd carefully constructed. It's a universal experience, isn't it? The sting of rejection, the ache of not belonging.

It's a pain that carves deep, but in its hollows, we can choose to cultivate compassion rather than bitterness. These encounters, though painful, were the crucible in which my empathy was refined, teaching me that even in our most harrowing trials, we have the power to transmute pain into understanding.

A Tapestry of Moments

My life, like yours, is a tapestry woven from moments both mundane and momentous. The first time I wore a skirt to school is a thread of vibrant pink, a declaration of self that rippled through the fabric of my existence.

The whispered conversations, the sidelong glances—they're all there, too, in shades of gray and blue, each a part of the story. Do you see your own tapestry in the making? The threads of your choices, your joys, your heartaches, each contributing to the work of art that is your life? We're all weavers at our looms, deciding with each passing day what patterns we'll create, what legacy we'll leave behind.

Our stories are different, yet they're woven from the same material: the human experience. There were milestones, too—my first kiss, a tentative meeting of lips that tasted like promise and peppermint; the first time someone called me 'she' and it felt like truth; the day I realized that my family's love wasn't just enduring, it was unyielding.

These are the golden threads, the ones that catch the light and remind me that, despite the shadows, there is brilliance and beauty to be found.

The Journey Continues

Now, here I stand, a traveler on a path with no end, a seeker of horizons ever-expanding. I've learned that identity is a mosaic, each piece a facet of who we are, and that love is the mortar that holds it all together.

My story, like yours, is ongoing, a narrative written in the ink of experience and the parchment of time. Perhaps you've recognized a piece of yourself in my tale, a reflection of your own struggles and triumphs.

Maybe you've seen that, despite our differences, we share the same fears, the same hopes, the same yearning for acceptance. Our lives are different chapters of the same book, narratives that intersect and diverge, but always continue forward.

I invite you to ponder the lessons woven through my story, not as a preacher from a pulpit, but as a fellow traveler sharing the wisdom of the road. Consider the power of empathy, the strength found in vulnerability, and the courage it takes to live authentically.

As you turn the pages of your own life, may you find the grace to write a story that resonates with the truth of who you are. And with that, I gently encourage you to seek out the book "This Is How It Always Is" by Laurie Frankel.

Within its pages lies a masterpiece of storytelling that delves deeper into the joys and challenges of a family navigating the complexity of gender identity. It's a narrative that echoes with the truths I've shared, offering a broader canvas upon which to ponder the nuances of our shared human journey.

In it, you'll find laughter, tears, and a family's boundless love—a story that promises to touch your heart and perhaps, change the way you view the world. With warmth and solidarity, Claude/Poppy