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What one thing you ever done in your own personal history defines you?

For me, my defining moment was realizing that I would never have one.

I was in college with a low C average as a biology major. The classes were only getting harder. If I focused, I could pull out the Bs and As, but that was always hard for me. I thought about switching majors. I went down to the career center and read up a bit more on what was out there. I decided on psychology. Then I saw that for every 20 psych majors there was one job. I wasn't about to graduate from college only to go back in. I wanted to work. I wanted to do something other than sit passively and make grades. So I went down to the bottom of the "jobs per major" chart to see what was most in demand. Computers. I figured I could do that.

After walking away from the career center I realized that I would probably never figure out what it was I wanted to do with my life (the reprocussions of this non-epiphamy caused my girlfriend of 2 years to dump me for a guy who drove a BMW). But the thing was I was happy with this. I could make money and then do things with it that struck my fancy. So I still haven't figured out who I am or where I'm going and I probably never will. And that's fine, because I can explore what things there are when I feel like it.

How's that for shallow?
 

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A dream.

It was my early 20s. I had broken up with my soulmate, Kara, two years earlier -- not because I didn't love her, but because she wasn't ready to spend her life with me and I felt defeated and tired of waiting. I had seen people who kept clinging to the person who didn't return their level of love, and they pretty much universally horrified me (in the sense that I never wanted to be as miserable as they clearly were). So we broke up.

Shortly after this, I started dating a friend named Lisa. We fell in love and for a long time I thought Lisa was the right one for me. And in fact she could have been; we had our share of incompatibilities, but if I hadn't had Kara in my heart, Lisa and I might have been able to reach a compromise in the areas that weren't working out for us.

But one night I had a dream. I dreamed that Lisa drove me to Kara's and dropped me off. She smiled at me and told me it was okay. I was so happy because I was doing what I knew was right.

When I woke up that morning, I knew what I had to do. The dream wasn't about Lisa, it was about me and my lingering feelings of love for Kara. That day, I broke up with Lisa; I gave myself a couple of days to get re-oriented, and then called Kara. She was glad to hear from me, and it was clear that she was interested in more than what we had before. I visited her (ours had always been a long-distance relationship), and within the month she'd decided to move to Madison to be with me, and a year later we were married. And here we are, almost 11 years later. :)
 

I could think of a thousand things but I'll limit myself. Maybe I'll post more in the future.

When I was a little kid learning to swim at a class at AU, we were asked for volunteers to go off the high dive. To show my general superiority, I did it, andI was the only one. I climbed to the top, slower and slower as I began to get an appreciation for how high the high dive was. I reached the top, and discovered that it was indeed high, and I gripped the rails tightly and crouched, never once standing stright up. I was wet and I was freezing cold as I very slowly advanced along the board to the extent that the immensely helpful railing that I was holding reached I stopped. I thought about going back. The swimming teacher shouted up from below that I had gotten that far, so I might as well jump. I looked to the end of the board, and down at the water below me and then, very slowly, very deliberately, backed up and climbed back down.

I've been terrified of heights ever since, and of many other things. In many ways, I am a shadow of what I was before that time. I always wonder what my life would have been like if I had jumped.


In a nutshell I firmly believe that it is those things that we don't do that we will live to regret the most.
Why must you torture me so?
 

Ahnehnois said:
Why must you torture me so?

Because I know that one day you'll find the strength to overcome your limitations and become a person who doesn't think of himself as a "shadow of what he once was". If you didn't die between the time you posted that and the time you are reading this then there is still time enough for you to really live.

Know this: If you were to get up from where you are right now and go to the nearest pool with a high dive board, climb the ladder and leap off into the water, you will be a better, happier, more empowered person for the rest of your life. I guarantee it.
 

I was referring more specifically to your high-school sweetheart anecdote, but that's another story.

I assume I sound depressed or nihilistic, but I am not. I will become better than what I am now.
 

It struck me at an early age, but I fought it. I never knew what the feelings were, but with them came such guilt and shame. Some nights I would cry myself to sleep. It dominated my life from sixth grade onwards. I had a secret, festering in the depths of my soul. A secret no one could ever know. A secret I'd be hated for. Reviled for. I didn't understand it, but I knew it was wrong. I know I was horrible for having those feelings. It taught me to lie, to sneak, and to steal. I threw it all away, more than once, promising myself I'd be good, be normal, only to find myself digging it out of the trash again. I'd make mistakes, leave evidence, subconsciously hoping to be discovered, hoing to be hated and shunned so I could make myself stop.

When my mother did find me out, she told me "I don't want to live to see what you become." I'll never forget those words. They're burned into my soul. She's since recanted, and feels terrible abotu it, but even as I forgive her, I can feel the words weigh me down.

When I was in highschool, I decided to make a stand. I was better educated, and I knew there were other people like me. I'd learned that I wasn't a horrible creature, but that I suffered from a disorder that millions of other people shared. Best of all, I'd learned that I could do something about it. I could fight back, and win! It was a painful road, and I knew I'd be ostracised for it. People would hate me because I was different, but I could stop hating myself.

My throat is tight and my eyes are stinging as I write this, but I'm smiling. I feel like I'm becming a new person now. I know that the old me is going away. Slowly and surely, as changes occur, I'm becoming less him, and more me. It hurts, it'll cost me far more money than I have, it'll sting in social situations, but it's all worth it. Someday, I won't have to lie to anyone. Someday, I'll be able to love myself. And someday is getting closer every day.

- Kemrain the Transsexual.
 

Kemrain, that was a pretty moving story. The only part I didn't like is it being called a 'disorder'. Makes it sound like an illness or lack of something or bad. Now, I haven't really known any transexuals (really Rocky Horror is the only thing that pops to mind), but it seems to me to be more a natural inclination than a disorder. Just my thoughts.

Aaron

My definining moment/s surround my baby girl, Sunshine. The most amazing was when she was actually born. The moment I found out about it was pretty high up there too.

My defining moments just involving me, well, there are a few. Nothing much compared to some of the stories on here. But there was an instance, I was a freshman in college, and sent to a Leadership camp by my R.A. It was in the mountains in CA, in the snow. I ditched one of the seminars to go climbing (because I missed snow from my home in AK). I was walking along a ridge, when I slipped in the snow and started sliding down the side. It was kind of fun, but the slope started to increase and I started going faster. There were small scrub pines so I couldn't really see where I was headed. I started to grab them to stop myself, but they kept sliding thru my hands, leaving handfulls of pine needles and just slowing me slightly. There wasn't really anything for me to dig my feet or hands into, so I kept grabbing trees and gradually slowed. And eventually stopped. And looked down. About a foot from the end of my feet, the ground dropped off. I tried using the scrub trees to pull myself up from the edge, but it was too steep and they were too slippery and my hands were almost numb from the cold. I couldn't even work myself sideways. There was only one way to go, and that was down. So, I very slowly, very carefully, lowered myself down to the dropoff. And it dropped off. About 300 feet. I couldn't go up, I couldn't go sideways, I had to go down. And my hands were getting worse by the minute. It was at that point my fear left me and I got excited. I was freaked out by almost having gone over that edge, but I have spent most of my life in Alaska, free climbing mountains in all types of weather and temperatures. And it suddenly looked fun.

I had to get down. So I did. I think it took a good hour. I was shaking and laughing and crying all at the same time when I got to the bottom. I stumbled back to the seminar, which was just finishing it's 3 hour session for a break. I didn't know how to explain it to anybody, and didn't want to get in trouble, so I didn't. But, at that time, I realized that a) I can get things done when I need to, and b) I am an adrenaline junkie!
 
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Well.

To me it sounds as if a lot of feelings are being poured out in this thread. This may be obvious to others; it is to me, but I don't know what is obvious to anyone else.

I think that was a defining moment for me; the moment I realized that I can never know what or how others think. Even those with great communicative ability don't perceive th world in the same way.

This moment happened in first year Biology. We had those colour charts that have patterns of coloured dots, and a picture made by the dots. On a couple of pages all I could see were dots. Out of the whole class I was the only one who was colour blind in any way.
 

A defining moment in my life occured when, at the age of 26, I realized that I wanted to teach English. At the time I had been in the Navy, unhappy with the direction my life was going and unsure what I saw myself doing in ten years. I had actually been considering reenlisting for lack of any better idea; instead, I got out of the Navy, floundered for a few years, and eventually got on track with my goal. I'm now three weeks away from graduating with an AA in English, and I'm transferring to San Diego State in the fall. My life has taken a complete 180 and I couldn't be happier. For the first time in my adult life, I enjoy what I'm doing.
 

Sorry for the hijack. I feel it necessary to add this, though.
Hellefire said:
Kemrain, that was a pretty moving story. The only part I didn't like is it being called a 'disorder'. Makes it sound like an illness or lack of something or bad. Now, I haven't really known any transexuals (really Rocky Horror is the only thing that pops to mind), but it seems to me to be more a natural inclination than a disorder. Just my thoughts.

Aaron

Transsexuality has been classified as a Gender Identity Disorder, often called Gender Dysphoria. It's classified as such so thatthe medical community takes it seriously. Transsexualism used to be treated with anti-psychotics and electroshock. We've thankfully come a long way.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show is much more about transvestitism than transsexualism. Dressing in the clothing of the opposite sex, rather than a desire to be the oppoeite sex. While crossdressing was a part of my life when I was younger, I no longer consiter it to be crossdressing to wear a bra (I consiter it necessary).

So, yeah, I would call transsexuality an illness or a lack of something. It's a lack of the proper sex. In my case, a lack of ovaries. A lack of being seen and treated the way I feel within. I wouldn't call it bad any more than I'd call being born with a birth defect bad. It's the hand I've been dealt.

I think it's merely that some peopel don't understand why we'd want to give up a perfectly functioning male body for a non-functional approximation of a female one. Where some would classify it as a mental disorder, I prefer the physical malady description. I think it helps to illustrate the way I see this and the way I'm going about correcting my problem. I was born with an abnormality, I lived with it through adolescence and hid it, but now I'm correcting it, and I'm grateful that correction is possible these days.

- Kemrain the Hopefully Informative.
 

Into the Woods

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