I know you are so much more
For someone who doesn't have much in the way of faith, I am superstitious as all get out. I think it comes form being a frightened kid, trying to make sense of too many things without any good framework for what was real and what might not be. But I think it is not so unusual to think bad things come in threes - a lot of people believe that. Right now I think the three things are done and so I'm trying to let go of that hyperaware watchfulness and willingness to draw connections. This just has to be it, I keep saying, though I feel like I tempt fate with those words.
In three weeks I'll get a plane, hopefully not freak out in the security lines and get to see Sarah. That's what I'm holding onto - I can make it through the month for that.
Some days I feel fine on the outside. I'm wearing the bright, glittering armor of whatever protects my heart. I go out and do things and even interact like a human being. But there's always the time when I get home, when I find myself sitting still and the darkness comes rushing back inside.
Today I moped, for most of the morning. I couldn't get the PS3 working so I considered blowing off any exercise. But eventually I dragged myself outside to wander, listening to electronic noise and robot voices while I stalked the sidewalks. It helps at a little, at least in that moment, because I'm usually too tired or too pained to have many other thoughts beside contemplating a cold shower.
I also try to do normal human things. I bought a new swim suit. Buying a swimsuit as a dude is much less fraught than it ever was as a girl. I have new summer tank tops that aren't stretched in the chest now. These little things are joys to be savored. Over the weekend I went swimming in a public place for the first time in ages, and the first time since the surgery. It was fine. I was fine. It was a beautiful day and I didn't even sunburn.
In three weeks I'll get a plane, hopefully not freak out in the security lines and get to see Sarah. That's what I'm holding onto - I can make it through the month for that.
Some days I feel fine on the outside. I'm wearing the bright, glittering armor of whatever protects my heart. I go out and do things and even interact like a human being. But there's always the time when I get home, when I find myself sitting still and the darkness comes rushing back inside.
Today I moped, for most of the morning. I couldn't get the PS3 working so I considered blowing off any exercise. But eventually I dragged myself outside to wander, listening to electronic noise and robot voices while I stalked the sidewalks. It helps at a little, at least in that moment, because I'm usually too tired or too pained to have many other thoughts beside contemplating a cold shower.
I also try to do normal human things. I bought a new swim suit. Buying a swimsuit as a dude is much less fraught than it ever was as a girl. I have new summer tank tops that aren't stretched in the chest now. These little things are joys to be savored. Over the weekend I went swimming in a public place for the first time in ages, and the first time since the surgery. It was fine. I was fine. It was a beautiful day and I didn't even sunburn.