I find myself with not very much to say. There’s no context. Everything is new and blank, and I’m forced to move on, to start again. Any attempt to salvage my old life is met with disgrace. There are some things, like my education and a handful of core relationships (absurdly repurposed core relationships) that I’m taking with me. But attempts to, say, utilize my network of professional contacts, are yet to succeed.
My new body is comfortable; it is also unfamiliar and somewhat disgusting. I’m sick of standing up straight.
I want to hate myself, but I can’t find any clear reason to, other than being so consistently out of my depth, not knowing my sexual orientation with any precision, being afraid of random shit, and crying too much. But I can’t bring myself to hate myself for these things.
I feel lost and also without a need for direction.
I would ask myself why.
Leia asked me to try on her ballroom dress the other day. I’m sure it’s expensive, it feels expensive, and I kind of dive into it.
“Don’t stretch it!”
After figuring out how to maneuver the lining and where to put my arms, I heard myself ask her to zip up the side. And we kind of stood there in front of the mirror. Actually, we definitely stood there.
Leia: “That’s amazing…”
I realized then, in that moment, in a red dress, that I could totally pass.
Days ensued, joy and panic interspersed between hours and minutes. Fear and longing and the stark, stark realization of how much this is going to hurt.
Then I seem to have wrestled this rushing sense of inevitability to the ground. I can’t do this.
But the dress fit perfectly. It was beautiful, I was beautiful, and now? Now I’m completely lost in this undefined social space. I know I’m a woman, but what does that mean? I ask myself, “Can I pull this off?” And I do, I have to, it just is.