I Was So Good at Being the Man That I Forgot I Wanted to Be the Woman.

While my partner—my husband—is putting the bed together, I thought I’d write a post, but I didn’t know what to write about—and then suddenly, thoughts started coming to mind. I remembered the time when I used to assemble furniture and was the “strong one” in the family. I grew up without a father, and from a young age, I did all the “men’s work” around the house. No one forced me to—it’s just that my mom either didn’t know how or didn’t want to—but I wanted to live in a house where everything worked and nothing was broken. And without even realizing it, I learned to fix appliances and furniture using whatever materials I had on hand. And I enjoyed it. Over time, I took on other “male” responsibilities as well (solving problems, making decisions and taking action, paying off the loans my mom had taken out to buy herself a designer dress). And then, as an adult, I met men who couldn’t do anything with their hands, couldn’t make decisions, and couldn’t provide for a family. My childhood experience of playing this “foreign” role played a cruel joke on me.

I continued to play this role—the one I’d known since childhood—into adulthood. I expected men to fulfill their role so that I could finally play a different one. But the problem was that I didn’t know any other role. I hadn’t yet tried living as a Woman myself, so men ended up playing that role. It drove me crazy—I wondered if there were really no real Men left in this world. But the point was that men are different; I was simply choosing the ones with whom I could play a familiar role. The fact that it caused me pain didn’t matter to my brain—the main thing was that it was familiar.

And then, after trying out different scenarios, I found “My Own”—the one according to which I want to live my life—and I simply began to live it, and a miracle happened. Completely different men started appearing in my life; I simply stopped wasting my time on those who weren’t “right for me.” This change didn’t happen overnight. It took some time and a certain number of actions.

And now, as I sit here writing this post, I realize that it doesn’t even cross my mind to doubt whether my man can do this (make the bed, as in this case). And I’m so happy about it. It’s very important to me to be proud of my man. It’s important to me that with him, I can be a woman.

That’s how important it is to see what role we play in life and whether we want to continue playing it.