Something has happened.
Just when I think I get a handle on this whole transition, something happens to reveal yet another layer of complexity or beauty or awe. Maybe it was the extremely low weekend, which left me nowhere to go but up. Maybe it was finally telling Milo and Annabelle yesterday. Maybe it was meeting with Chuck today. Maybe it was my visit to the library on Monday to begin collecting new information about my April 11th paper and finally feeling like I could return to academic research after a very long and painful absence. Maybe it was meeting in an omnibus therapy session Monday with Chuck, Mary Jo, and her therapist, Cheryl, in which we got to issues of Mary Jo’s pain at having to be the strong one for me, and never being able to rely on my being the strong one for her. Maybe it was the call out of the blue from my lifelong friend Slade to tell me he would be visiting on Feb 13th, approximately the same date I had intended to write him. Maybe it was writing Gerald out in Santa Barbara today and receiving an amazing reply. Maybe it was Miles and Khloe’s frantic phone call last night about gossip. Maybe it is the incredible and adaptable love of my children.
Whatever its origins, I feel I’ve entered an entirely new and beautiful stage of this process. And I’m not worried at all. I feel not only surprisingly calm but magically excited to be connected to so many loving friends.
Where did the sense of impending doom go? Where is that train wreck? What happened to the fear and depression? I’m sure these things haven’t gone for good, but I feel as if they’ve been driven far into the shadows by unseen, but related, forces of love and friendship.
I can hardly keep up my thinking and writing with the pace of surprise and revelation — I feel like Whitman, lying in the grass and simply marveling at it all, the grandeur of nature, the magical connections between events that create meaning, the infinite possibility of it all. Where’s my stenographer, my scribe? I’ve got this burning ember in my hand, but by the time I make it to the computer, it’s faded, and all I’ve got is my recollection of its intensity.
There must be something about a friend breaking down and finally coming to grips with her essential self that brings people together, and I’m realizing that I’m part a group that’s growing and whose love, acceptance, and understanding is simply astounding. It’s all quite incredible (literally, because it’s hardly believable, and I wouldn’t have believed it possible 12, 6, or even 1 month ago). And what’s most weird and beautiful and incredible isn’t the trans-ness, at all, but rather the depth of feeling and connection that exists across time and distance in this web of friendship.
I am incredibly lucky and blessed.