[Trigger warning for the first paragraph: grief, loss, death of parent.]
One year ago it was probably the worst 4th of July of my life: I was devastated by grief as I had just received the news that my father had been hospitalized for the final time and been given less than two weeks to live. Thousands of miles away, he lay dying in a hospital bed and would never know the true me.
Two years ago was my first 4th of July as a Colorado resident and my second 4th of July here in Colorado (the first one having been the previous summer). I spent them both with friendly acquaintances who still saw me as a “woman” (albeit androgynous and/or boyish). The 4th of July of three years ago was the first that most of us were spending in company again after the worst of the pandemic and I had just started using “they” pronouns. Today, when I go to the community event hosted for the 4th of July by a local cafe later, I’m pretty sure I’ll be seen as a guy and referred to as “he”…
In the space of three years, so much has changed that the world has in ways turned upside down for me — my gender journey being only one (albeit the most prominent) of the big changes.
Two summers ago, as I was settling into my new State (Colorado), I was living temporarily in a big house by myself, part renting, part house- & garden-sitting. And I often felt so lonely that I had little attacks of anxiety.
Now, after over a year and a half of living with housemates, I’m living by myself again, once again housesitting for friends. There are still moments of loneliness, especially in the mornings, but nothing like two years ago.
Despite all my fear of a sad and lonely summer, moving out of my housemate’s place three weeks ago was one of the best things for me and probably just the right moment for me to do so. A year ago, it was a blessing to be living with my housemate and her son and partner. Now, I need space for myself. And as I relax on my solitary evenings going out by myself to listen to live music or traveling to visit other friends or immersing myself in a book, I feel a delicious spaciousness inside me.
I feel that I am creating space — or letting space be created, letting space take form — inside me.
I am letting my mind, my heart and my soul declutter.
There’s been a lot of cluttering in the past year and a half. Some of it necessary or inevitable, like all the phone calls and appointments for the practical things I’ve needed to get done for my moves, my career change, my gender journey, and my injuries/surgeries; some of it forced upon me, like living in a house filled with someone else’s clutter; some of it caused by myself, as I’ve gone through periods of seeking out new connections to build new relationships, sometimes spurred more by loneliness or fear of loneliness than actual availability/need for connection.
The clutter in my living situation is gone now, and this per se creates, or allows for, an immense amount of space — physically, around me.
The “clutter” in my practical life around job-hunting, house-seeking, and medical issues is not over but I am managing to keep it at bay and put it on hold for a while.
The “clutter” in my emotional life is the one I am most healthily getting rid of. I am not letting my fear of loneliness dictate the dynamics of my relationships. I value relationships, I treasure friendships and am intentional about them. But sometimes, especially after all the “departures” and moves and losses from the past several years, I seek out and try to hold onto more friendships than are healthy for me or hold onto relationships even when they’re not really working. I think that’s the main thing I’m learning not to do anymore. I am taking what feels like leaps of faith, sometimes scary, by choosing to spend more time by myself and/or by severing ties that aren’t serving me (or anyone) anymore. This creates emptiness, inevitably. But it is precisely that emptiness that is allowing for more healthy space, more space for me to actually listen inside me, to find myself more clearly and grow further — to slowly understand or discover who I am deep inside and what I want to do next (even from the practical viewpoint) with my life. And in this phase I realize that old, well-established, platonic relationships and/or male friendships are what feels comfortable and healthy for me now: people who really know me and whom I know well, without needing to explain too much or to put on some kind of “persona”. Relationships that are simple in their depth and established trust. That doesn’t mean they don’t require effort or intentionality: but for me it means there is a security in knowing where the effort & intentionality lie, and thus there is more space in my mind & heart to be able to be myself and grow into myself.
When I am with these people and when I am by myself, I can actually feel the space within me, more space within me, as I can relax and breathe…
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P.S.: I’m not saying I don’t ever feel lonely anymore. I still do feel lonely sometimes — e.g. I wish I had close friends or partner(s) or family with whom to grill and watch fireworks today/tonight. But I also know this loneliness is partly due to social conditioning, partly due to my own attachment wounds, and probably also a necessary part of my own personal growth…
The Little Prince and the Fox 