The Marrog

I was thinking about a few things this morning and a line or two from a poem I remembered from childhood came to mind. The particular line was "and nobody, nobody knows" which is really where my thoughts had led me after a conversation with my Mum where it was stated that not a single person in my extended family knows about my transition.

Before I explain about the situation and eleborate on reality, here is the poem that I was thinking off, found after much searching of the internet and copied from here and available in The Random House Book of Poetry for Children:

My desk's at the back of the class
And nobody, nobody knows
I'm a Marrog from Mars
With a body of brass
And seventeen fingers and toes.

Wouldn't they shriek if they knew
I've three eyes at the back of my head
And my hair is bright purple
My nose is deep blue
And my teeth are half-yellow, half-red?

My five arms are silver and spiked
With knives on them sharper than spears.
I could go back right now, if I liked-
And return in a million light years.
I could gobble them all

For I am seven foot tall
And I'm breathing green flames from my ears.
Wouldn't they yell if they knew,
If they guessed a Marrog was here?
Ha ha they haven't a clue-
Or wouldn't they tremble with fear!

'Look, look, A Marrog'
They'd all scream - and SMACK
The blackboard would fall and the ceiling would crack
And the teacher would faint, I suppose.
But I grin to myself, sitting right at the back
And nobody, nobody knows

I think it sums up my feelings pretty accurately and I wonder if looking like the Marrog I'd actually be happier with my appearance! But the main thing is the line "And nobody, nobody knows"; the only family that do are my parents and my sister and of those only my Mum talks to me and tacitly acknowledges my transition.

I got a Christmas present from my sister yesterday, which was nice, addressed using my 'old' name, which wasn't so nice. It almost made me feel like the last couple of years haven't happened, as if they can somehow not have my transition be a reality by using my old name. My sister has seen me as me and should be well aware of my name change - if I hadn't told her directly my Mum certainly does know and would have passed that information on.

I can't see my last remaining grandparent, in fact haven't for probably over two years now. She is getting old and will likely go to her grave blissfully unaware of my transition and likely wondering why I haven't visited and whether I really care about her anymore, I do obviously. It seems now like my Dad has absolutely no intention of ever seeing me or even talking to me now.

Really, I might as well be the Marrog from Mars