Tomorrow Never Knows

Thursday, August 9, 2012

It's been a frantic week. 


Here's some of what happened.

I'm afraid I need to begin with some sad news.

My cousin passed away yesterday after a long bout with cancer. 

He was a wonderful person, a loving husband, and the father of two.

He was only 51 years old. 

Life is short, it is fragile, and it is precious. 

And it is not to be wasted.

Goodbye, R.


Things came to a head at work this week. I will spare you the details, but I can say that while not perfect, it is at least not as awful as it could have been.

Most important, I won't have to go to the other office (which would make my transition exponentially more difficult), although things are a bit more tenuous that I would like.

But for now, it will have to do.

Sometimes that is the best you can do.


I received a long message from a dear friend several days ago.

She wrote to me after reading about my decision to go full-time next July.

She has been a stalwart friend from the beginning.

Not once has she ever told me what to do or what to think. She offers her opinions, and tells me about her experiences, but has always maintained that only I can know what is right for me.

I value her opinion with the same level of respect that I value the opinion of my friend F.

That is high praise, believe me, for there is no one I hold in higher esteem than F.

So when she expresses her concern, I take it seriously.

We had a lengthy conversation back and forth, one that helped clarify my thinking.

She was concerned on two counts.

First, she was worried that I may need more time than the next twelve months to become comfortable with presenting myself *as* myself (as opposed to presenting as "him").

Second, and more important, she was worried about the seemingly ceaseless stress I have had to cope with the past four-plus months, both at home and at work.

She told me how proud she was proud of the hard work I've logged in terms of the emotional aspect of transitioning - the part it is far too easy for us to neglect when transitioning, sadly.

But she added that she was worried about the toll that living at my parents house and working in such a chaotic environment have taken.

As my therapist reminded me last week (again), I am in transition in every area of my life right now: physically, mentally, at home, and at work. I quite literally have no stability in any of those areas.

As I was leaving at the end of my session, she reached out and touched my elbow.

"You MUST take steps to get out of that house as soon as you possibly can," she said. "Ideally, before our next session. That environment is TOXIC for you. And that is a word I don't use lightly."

That is pretty strong language from a therapist.

And she is right, as is my friend.

After thinking long and hard about it, I suspect that picking a date was my attempt to gain control over SOMETHING in my life.

It is so fragmented, and has been such for so long, that I need *something* to which I can anchor myself.

I still think setting a date is a good idea... but I think I need to acknowledge that it's a goal at this point, rather than something set in stone.

My friend told me she also set a date... and then changed it. Several times.

It amounted to about a year or so after her original date, which under typical circumstances is not an inordinate length of time.

But there is nothing "typical" about transitioning, as we all well know.

Twelve months is an enormous amount of time, especially for someone still in the relatively early stages of transitioning. (I'm approaching nine months on HRT.)

My friend told me she waited until people were convinced she was a girl, even when she was presenting as a boy. She wanted to wait to see where she was, both physically and emotionally, in her transition, before making the decision to begin living full-time as herself.

I don't know where I will be, physically or emotionally, one year from now. No one in this position can. It may turn out that next July is exactly the right date.

But it may not.

So, I think I need to regard it as a goal.

One to attempt to reach with everything I can muster - and I give myself enough credit now to believe that that is a not-inconsiderable amount - but also one that can (and if I am being completely honest, most likely will) move out.

And that's OK.

It wont be wasted effort either way.

I WILL get where I want to go.

Nothing is going to stop me.

I have come too far, and have seen enough glimpses of how much better my life is going to be (and already is, in some important ways), to do otherwise.


I would like to end this by saying, simply: thank-you.

Thank you to good friends, who inspire us to dream, and help us on the journey to making them come true.

Even when it means telling you something you might not want to hear.

Thank you, each and every one of you.

I love you all.


Addednum: Since I wrote the original draft of this, I found what I dearly hope will be my next home. It is a gorgeous apartment in a quiet neighborhood with a landlord who not only lives in the home, but seems like a genuinely nice, sweet person. (She called to express her condolences after I left a message mentioning I would only be able to view the apartment tonight because of my cousin's passing, offering to rearrange her schedule to allow me to come by.)

Sometime a place just feels right.

Like home.

This feels like that.

I hope I get it.

Stay tuned.


Because you can never have too much of the Beatles in your day:


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