Member-only story
Recently it was time to take our car into the shop for an oil change. When I learned I needed to accomplish such a simple task on my own (with no help from my wife Liz), my anxiety level began to rise up.
All my anxiety stems from my early upbringing when I was struggling to find my footing at all as a male type person. On a fairly regular basis, my brother and I would accompany my Dad when he visited his best friend who happened to own and operate a auto salvage yard. For better or worse, my brother and I got to see so-called pet alligators all the way to dynamiting ponds and salvaging the fish which floated to the top, to eat.
On occasion, the experiences were fun but at other times I was wondering how I could ever break out of my well hidden feminine tendencies and be a man in the mold of my Dad who was in many ways a man who fit the stereotype of a self made man. He rose from struggling through the depression to become vice president of a bank and building his own house. I never came out to him during his life. I forever grew up in his shadow and always experienced huge doses of anxiety when I needed to participate in any male-centric activities. Which included going to any sort of auto parts stores.
Which brings me back to my oil change experience. My basic problem was I thought I could have been taken advantage of since I am a transgender woman.
