Alone In The Dark

It's 3:41 AM on Sunday morning as I write this. I gave up trying to sleep several hours ago. I spent nearly two hours working on a post to summarize how I am feeling right now.

But I just read it, and it does not come remotely close to getting across how low I feel. As I usually do, I try to distance myself from how I feel through the words I use.

Well, I can't do that. Not this time.

I don't think I can get across the intensity of the pain I feel now. But I need to try.

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Calamity Cass: A Week For The Record Books...

Greetings and salutations from Medical Center, a/k/a my bedroom. It has been a week to remember in the annals of Calamity Cass. 

I have endured trauma - mostly, but not entirely, self-inflicted - to my upper body, lower body, and my head. As Kelli pointed out to me while we were chatting on Friday evening: "Damn girl, you don't do anything halfway, do you?" lol

Alas, she is correct, as always. :c) So follow along below the break for a summary of Cass's adventures in being a one-girl self-wrecking crew. :c)

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Hurt

I returned from electrolysis several hours ago.

I walked into my apartment and sank onto the couch.

I am still there.

It hurt so much tonight.

I'm not sure why.

We worked around my lip, mostly the upper lip and the corners.

Needless to say, these areas are less than pleasant under the best of circumstances.

Tonight was not the best of circumstances.

While I hardly enjoy the process, electrolysis is usually tolerable, even when we work in these sensitive areas.

But tonight was agony.

And I do not use that word lightly.

I will usually chat with M, my electrologist, during my session, even when we work in these areas.

But it soon became apparent that this night was different.

For some reason, I was unusually sensitive to each pulse.

I soon lapsed into silence.

I tried to focus on the sound of the clock ticking.

It didn't help.

I told myself that each pulse was another closer to the last one for the evening.

That didn't help either.

M stopped at one point.

"Are you OK, Cass?" she asked.

I nodded.

"You're crying, hon," she said, her voice quiet.

"You have been for a few minutes."

I didn't realize it until she said so.

"It's pretty rough tonight, isn't it?" she said.

I nodded again.

"Do you want to stop, hon?"

I thought a moment, then shook my head.

"No, let's keep going," I said. "It will be worth it eventually."

I hope, I added silently.

"Good girl," she said, gently rubbing my shoulder.

I could hear the smile in her voice.

Finally, it was over.

I stirred as I sensed M moving the light away.

"Don't get up, Cass," she said, pressing on my arm. "Just lay there a bit."

Secretly, I was glad. I was utterly spent.

As she applied the rubbing alcohol, I started sneezing uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry, hon," she said. "This was a really hard night."

"But be proud. We're using nearly the highest setting, and in some very sensitive areas. And we went the full hour."

"We should film just a few minutes of one of your sessions," she mused. "Then you can show it to anyone transitioning is a lark."

"No one would go through this unless they had to."

***

A dear friend has said on several occasions that transitioning is hard because it should be hard.

It should not be undertaken on a whim.

It should require a serious commitment, in terms of time, energy, and effort.

And that commitment will, at times, require pain.

Both physical and emotional.

I have felt both - intensely - this past week.

I would be dishonest if I said I never doubt whether this will be worth it.

All I can do is my very best.

So I can, finally, be myself.

Even if it hurts.

***

I can count on one hand what I think are truly great music videos.

This, by far, is my top choice.

I am moved to tears each and every time I see this.

Johnny Cash, and his wife, June Carter Cash, filmed this in February 2003.

June, whose haunted expression as she looks at her husband has stayed with me ever since first viewing this video, died three months later, on May 15.

Her husband passed away shortly thereafter, on September 12.

Their courage, their commitment to their art, and, especially, their commitment to each other, resonates even a decade later.

They faced their pain.

And they transcended it.