So with a few hours of sleep (four, but who's counting?), I thought it might be a good idea to put up a quick follow-up to last night's - or, really this morning's - semi-coherent post.
My point - and there was one, honest! - was that my gender dysphoria was particularly acute the past few days.
I suspect it was a combination of exhaustion, the emotional toll of losing a family member, and, simply, far, far too long since I have been able to be myself for more than a few hours.
A friend asked last week how I managed to switch between multiple identities on a daily basis - one at work, one at home with my parents, and, of course, my real identity, which is the one I most need and the one I am least able to be, at least for now.
The answer: with increasing difficulty. It is draining, particularly since I have no chance to be myself for more than a few hours at a time. My parents, quite literally, NEVER go out. Ever. They are ALWAYS there. And I am nearing the breaking point. I desperately need my own space, my own time, to be me.
I viewed an apartment late last week that I really, really hope I get. It's gorgeous, in a perfect location, and reasonably priced (for here, at least). And the landlord, who lives upstairs, seems to be a genuinely kind person.
I've learned over the years not to allow myself to get my hopes up; it hurts too much on the too-frequent occasions when it doesn't work out. The disappointment at my most recent job interview is a case in point.
As I've learned to like myself the past year and a half, I've come to appreciate that I'm a good bit tougher than I ever gave myself credit for. Perhaps resilient is a better word.
Either way, I'm pretty determined when I decide - REALLY decide - to do something. I don't let anything stop me.
And if I don't get this apartment, I won't let that stop me either.
But it would be lovely if I did. I could use a base from which I can navigate the next part of my journey.
My fingers are crossed.
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