I think it’s been over a year since my last post. Kept meaning to write something here, if only to track my transition, but I just haven’t had the… energy? Spirit? I don’t know. I was starting to get better, starting to pull out of my shell. The panic attacks were subsiding… I actually was spending more days out of bed… and then my best friend died. That sent me into such a tailspin that there were days where I fell right back to the early days when I lost almost everything in my life.
Little by little, day by day… sometimes just minute by minute, I kept pulling myself up, forcing myself to do things like shower and eat when all I wanted to do was stay in bed all day long. I had to get up and let the dog out… sometimes venture outside myself for a bit, but the time when Kiddo wasn’t with me—half the week—was just… one long anxiety attack where either I felt like I was having a heart attack, couldn’t stop crying, felt too nauseous to stand, too exhausted to move… or a pleasant mix of all four.
(The days when Kiddo is here… those are always my bright days, even when I was at my worst. She makes me feel stronger because she needs me to be there for her. I can be almost normal, even if some of it is so exhausting I need to sleep part of the next day while she’s at school just so I can refuel. The days she leaves… those are still hard. But after… [Wait, how long? How long has been since my time with her was abruptly cut in half? Years, by now?] After however long… I’m no longer crying my eyes out for hours after she goes. I still cry every time… but it’s only a few minutes. )
Heh but I do still drink too much on those nights and make bad meal choices.
Top surgery in June went well and I was over the moon. It’s never fun to recover from surgery but this was such a load off my chest (ha ha) that it buoyed me in a way that I really needed.
Transition has been such a paradoxical thing for me… had I not transitioned, I wouldn’t have lost my job, my home, my relationship, my ability to trust, and half my daughter’s time/presence. However, because of my transitioning and finally living as myself, I survived all of it… I don’t think I would have survived otherwise. The thing that caused the worst thing in my life is also the best thing I’ve ever done.
And, I know it’s a common “coming out” theme.
Then, when things were looking up, again, right around the anniversary of M’s death, another friend died… the circumstances frighteningly similar to M’s. Given two weeks to live, he only made it one. Again… all forward progress for me was kicked back to square one, but this time… I found myself bouncing back. Finding strength I thought I had lost. New apartment (that I love) and the sale of the house has pushed me further into the light. I still have panic attacks every day, but it’s 2-3 times a day max, and they’re nothing like the hours-long ones I was suffering before.
But, my bandwidth is still very very small. Kiddo is my primary concern. Then it’s my poor, aging doggo. Then it’s care for myself. I barely have the “spoons” for those three things… there just isn’t room for anything else. Which is terrible timing because someone I care about is very sick and I just can’t be involved, no matter how much I want to be. I can’t even let myself think about it too much or else I start to shut down… and I can’t. Not again.
Right now, I’m keeping my head down, finding joy in doing things I love—like spending time with Kiddo and cooking… and… writing. Yes, this week I sat down and wrote several thousand words. I hung up a few more paintings. I unpacked a few boxes… I actually vacuumed. All the dishes are done. And now I’m writing a little more. Could it be that I’m actually going to be fine again, or close to it? I’d like to think so. It’ll take time still… but… I’m feeling ok. And that’s good.
