McCoy: Dunsel? Who the blazes is Captain Dunsel?
(cut to Chekov and Sulu, both expressing uncomfortable recognition of the reference)
McCoy: What does it mean, Jim?
(Kirk slowly exits the bridge without a word)
McCoy: Spock? What does it mean?
Spock: Dunsel, Doctor, is a term used by midshipmen at Starfleet Academy. It refers to a part which serves no useful purpose.
I came out as non-binary / transgender in the early 2000’s. I did it by slowly changing how I dressed, waiting for someone to say something about it: no one ever did. Instead, I found acceptance from my colleagues and management. It was a good run – until early 2011, when I was layed-off and needed to find a new job. That was a stressful time as it meant cutting my hair, donning the suit and tie, and doing my best impersonation of a ‘man’ all for the purpose of landing a job. It worked, and I was employed again in less than three months.
After a few months, I was able (again) to present as I needed, and for the next seven years I enjoyed the support of my colleagues, and of the firm itself. I slowly became more visible, more vocal, and ultimately seen an a leader in the LGBT community at work. Over the last two years, I finally felt that I once again had a career as opposed to just ‘a job’ – and that I had found my place and my voice. For possibly the first time in my life, I started to truly feel good about my self – that events in my life were finally falling into place in a way that was life-affirming – that maybe I could feel ‘happy’.
For the past seven years, work had been my support network. It is where I have been the most ‘out and proud’ – it is where I have had the most support when I need it – it is where I have had the most encouragement: from my team, my colleagues, and even senior management. It is where I have been recognized for both what I do and who I am.
I was laid-off January 2nd, 2018. I lost my support network, my friends, my outlet. I am home alone every day, looking, emailing, applying. It’s my fourth month of looking, and things are moving at a glacial pace.
My wife and I are fighting more lately. She has this almost paralyzing fear about what is going to happen, and as a result she feels the need to try and ‘solve’ this, which has manifest itself as her advising / directing / controlling everything I do – criticizing every step I take looking for work. I am emotionally exhausted trying to manage my wife’s sense of impending doom because I am not working.
I have this view of life, that people are the most honest when they are angriest. There is no ‘filter’ when you are angry – just raw emotion delivered unprocessed. There are the apologies afterwards, about not meaning any of it, but by that time the bell has been rung. The monster keep caged has gotten out and done their damage.
The other day, during a shouting fest over a missed call from a potential job, (because I turned off the ringer on my phone at the interview that same day) the monster made their appearance.
“You’re just fucking sitting around, not fucking doing anything.”
Succinct, unfiltered, truthful. What my wife sees, now that I am unemployed.
I have spent thirty one years providing for my family – my wife, my two daughters. I have worked hard to be successful professionally. I have fought against who I am so I could be a good provider – so my wife could stay home and not have to work for fifteen years and raise our daughters. I have swallowed my pride, compromised my personal integrity, all so I could do the right thing for everyone else. Rationally, I know my wife recognizes (some) of this when she not spiraling uncontrollably in fear of what will happen to us…
But deep down inside, I am a dunsel to her. I can do nothing right, I have nothing to offer – I no longer serve a useful purpose.
I feel like I have lost everything, and accomplished nothing, with every day sucking just a bit more from me. I go to sleep hoping that I don’t wake up – that I can finally be free of all of this.
Because right now, I am just so tired of being alive – and I have no good reason to continue.
Wandering Aloud 