Watching HeartStopper makes me feel bittersweet. Jealous. But most of all… alone.

Nicholas “Nick” Nelson came out to his Mom and friends (new and old) as Bisexual with a response that most people of the LGBTQ+ community are absent of having: support, love… A Hug. A hug layered in a deep and rich sense of support that even with minimal understanding, they are there willing and able to learn. The raw tears and emotions for at first being scared of being judged or rejected, turning into a euphoric feeling of comfort and acceptance. The literal embodiment of “Home is where the heart is”.

…But not for me. Not when I decided to tell my world and those in it.

My Partner

I told my partner first (an INTJ, for those curious), and he met me with a kind of shock that was inexplainable. A deafening one at that. It would be many years, even somewhat still till this day, that his learning about my identity (Non-binary/Trans Masculine and Panromantic/Pansexual) would be a long and painful process. I suppose luckily we both also identified as demisexual, which I could pick up on when we met at first. It was never that I didn’t know I was at least non-binary; I just never had the words for it outside of “androgynous”. There would be times I’d hear him talking to family and having a hard time trying to describe my gender identity with such failure that the only thing that he could materialize was my new pronouns (they/them) and my new (eventually legally changed) name, Kris. It’s still an uphill battle as people would passively disrespect me, and he would be too oblivious to know what’s going on due to his own level of understanding. Thankfully, he’s been both supportive and loving throughout the journey we’ve been on for the past 12+ years.

My Family

Family is a touchy subject for me. Always has been for a multitude of reasons. In this case, it was because my father (because I already blocked my mother, and I guess technically her side of the family) was already homophobic. Southern Baptist, God-fearing man, and one of the two youngest in the sibling group of four. Upon going to therapy (finally) to wrestle with my demons and even go over my new unlocked and growing identity, I learned how much of my childhood trauma was not only caused by Mom, but also by him with the new addition of rejecting my identity. He was what they call emotionally immature, and probably a narcissist. His focus was about optics and little understanding, even for the non-Christian (Muslim) family members. He could never do any wrong. It was always about him. So much so that he could not even stand with me in my truth in front of the family. He couldn’t even share and defend me and who I am to others in the family, including his actually Narcissistic and toxic mother. My father has always sought for approval from and by the family. His family. So much that he wanted to be seen as the new Patriarch when Grandpa died, ignoring his older brother as the obvious and most emotionally mature “choice”.

I suspect he thought he grew when the following two years later he sent me a birthday card that focused on calling me a “bun” instead of calling me “daughter”. The same limited understanding that I kept running into with everyone. Missing the point, especially when still trying to have some kind of “father-daughter” connection that honestly was never there to begin with; all the words but no action. Never there but wanted the title, association, attachment. Especially when I would go on to achieve things that only I could do and did by myself. Claiming LGBTQ+ people are against God, despite not knowing that it’s actually a clerical error. I’ve since grey rocked him and the rest of his family; I’m not actually welcomed there. They dead name me religiously. Not to mention treat me in the most misogynistic way that even my partner has to step in at times to quiet the chatter and disrespect or ignorance. They even overlooked the violence I experienced with my sibling just so they can have their stupid holiday dinners and get togethers. I feel grateful for my partner’s support against my toxic folks; however, I still long for more through understanding.

Friends

Normally with some friends you grow apart, but in this case… who you are just doesn’t matter.

Not all. But to many. Yes, the pronouns and maybe even the name is hard to learn… at first, but for years? Some had been with me since college or I met at a previous workplace. Though my identity was the straw that broke the camel’s back of revelation. It brought a true reckoning that later revealed, even through my therapist, some people’s true colors. People that I had thought were my friends even prior to coming out all shades of the rainbow, revealing the dark truth of my unresolved trauma. The reason it made me realize and take so long to come out to begin with. Because even with my parents, I learned some of my friends were just like them, where I only exist to serve and preserve what they want from me. I couldn’t tell you how many times I had been challenged about being invited to “Girls [insert event here]” when I had to keep saying I’m not one. The laborious amount of having to shove information at most of them and educate beyond my personal need to do their homework was heartbreaking. It felt like I was cosplaying. Like “that’s cute”, but you’re basically “girl lite”. It’s even more painful when they are conflict-avoidant and won’t defend me to others or correct other around them (their partners, wives, friends). The worst betrayal came when one so-called friend called me just to defend my father; A man who’d caused me immeasurable harm. Others erased my milestones, ignored my Master’s degree in Psychology, my creative work, my existence. Some were even in my (failed, but out there) YouTube documentary about… you guessed it. Being Non-Binary.

There’s so much pain in both feeling erased for the person you are and becoming, and being asked if “things can go back to how things were”. Treated like how they want to see you and not who you are. Never seeing and appreciating the person they see in front of them.

There’s a unique kind of grief in realizing people love who you were, not who you are.

… So what hug….

I’ve stopped expecting the Heartstopper moment. The tears. The embrace. The “we love you no matter what.”

But I’ve also stopped waiting for it.

I’ve been grateful, though, for the friends that remain and try, even if extremely much fewer… I’m even grateful for the one friend I also made, out of pure luck honestly, on Reddit, who I adore and appreciate so much. She certainly has shown me so much what true friendship looks like. What real care feels like. And to know that she has a cousin who is transitioning medically (as opposed to mine socially) and that she is learning and doing her own research makes me realize that there is hope after all. And even as a bonus her level of understanding when it comes to intersectionality! It makes me feel like I don’t have high standards, but rather normal, rational ones. I’m so grateful for her and those who remain in my life by choice and not obligation.

I hope one day I can slowly expand my circle, including more of the energy, love, care, and support that I’ve clearly been starving for a very long time.. ❤️‍🩹