Learning to Be Better

From a very young age I watched my father, as well as my grandfathers and uncles, do things that typically fall upon the man's shoulders. My dad was a jack of all trades. He loved taking things apart and putting them back together. He could also work with everything from a car's engine to a computers modem and everything in between. 2 of my 3 grandfather's had garages filled with tools and machines to take on just about any task you could think of that could pop up around the house. I grew up in a family where calling someone to fix a problem for you was unheard of because either my dad could fix it, or someone else we were related to could.

It should go without saying that even though I did not yet understand gender or anything, I was very into tools. I liked helping when I could and being able to fix things gave me a sense of accomplishment. My papaw (my mom's dad) made sure I had my own tool kit with a basic set up and would always let me out in his garage with him. We bonded over him showing me random things and what they were for. There were times when I was 4 or 5 when I would cry because I wasn't allowed to go fix stuff. Not that you can do much "fixing" that young but he still made me feel like I did something right.

My dad was quite different in his approach with me. He didn't really let me around his tools and didn't like when I asked if I could help him do things. He didn't have the patience to listen to my questions and would get very easily irritated so I would just stay away. But I would still watch him and try to learn from afar. It was hard to do since I couldn't ask questions. He wanted to make it clear to me that this is what dads and husbands did and that I wouldn't need to worry about it.

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Years later, around the time I was 20 or so, I had already been out as a transgender male for a couple years. This is around the time my dad decided that he was accepting of my change. He started trying to teach me to do certain things now that I was a boy in his eyes and "worthy" of knowing how to work on these things.

Growing up with a dad like this has caused me some problems in learning how to be my own man. My relationship with my father has always been strained but as of this past year, I no longer have contact with him or most of my family for that matter. But that is another story for another day.

Seeing as how I refuse to talk to my dad for my own mental health reasons, I haven't called him whenever I have an issue that I can't figure out. I have the entire internet at my disposal of course and I have a loving wife and two housemates who I adore to help me when I need it most. But I miss being able to call my dad because he always knew what to do and I didn't have to have a panic attack over my check engine light or my heater not working.

My support system has helped me more than I could ever begin to comprehend or thank them for. Everything from something as big as coming out as transgender to something as small as helping me pick an outfit. I have grown a lot mentally and I think it is because I have the perk of knowing what it is like on the female side of things. But that didn't stop my toxic masculinity from being so much harder to overcome.

I know in my brain that the fact that I can't fix something wrong in my house -something as simple as a lightbulb that needs replacing- does not make me any less of a man. But I get inside my head and the glory of an overstimulated autistic meltdown takes hold. I can't help but think about how I should be able to do this simple task. If only my brain were normal I could do this without having a breakdown. I'm the man of the house for christ's sake!

Eventually I calm down. I stop crying and dry my eyes. I clean up any mess I made because I am still responsible for anything that I did during my overload. But the thoughts stay with me. The thoughts of all the toxic masculinity I was exposed to, even as a person who was raised female. I would not be the man I am today if I had been AMAB so in some ways I am grateful. My masculinity is strong and secure. I know who I am now more than I ever have before.

Because this is part of breaking the cycle. You have to recognize that there is something wrong. You have to put forth the effort and prove that you don't want things to be the same for your kids as it was for you. Maybe my son (if I ever have one) will grow up in a time when little boys are can be sensitive and not get bullied and called a little girl for crying. Maybe that process has already started with others my age who are becoming parents and have also been able to break the toxic and abusive cycles that little boys go through.

I hope you are like me. I hope you have been able to break a cycle that you knew was bad for you. Or maybe you are trying and it is hard. I get it. You are so strong and I want you to know that I believe in you. Keep trying to be better. Be the parent that you wanted as a kid. Be the spouse you want to find for yourself. Treat others the way you would want to be treated if you were in their shoes. And always be kind.