Crash: the lows after the highs

Here it is, the low after the high. 

Ten days ago, I ran my fastest half marathon on trail, shaving off 7 minutes from the time my coach had projected for me and winning first place nonbinary. I was able to compete & be awarded fairly and to be proudly visible as my trans, nonbinary self, while also advocating for other trans/nonbinary athletes, and even exchanging numbers with one of them. That evening, I had dinner and spent some lovely time celebrating, sharing, and relaxing with my closest nonbinary transmasc queerplatonic friend here. It was a day filled with excitement, joy, satisfaction, pride, connection, and love. I was as high as a kite. 

The next day, I felt terribly empty. Tired and sad and lonely. 

By now, I’ve learned that’s how it often goes for me when I do a race, especially if I do well and have a wonderful day: the next day I crash after the high. 

Now, I’m feeling similarly after my wonderful “birthday week”. 

I spent a whole week doing things that were exciting and/or new and/or fun, exploring or having to really focus on an important goal, and most of the time in the company of loving, supportive friends. Life was high up on cloud nine. Now, life is “back to normal” and it’s feeling quite empty. I’m struggling to stay focused on the things that are important, that really matter to me, or that I have to get done anyway. I’m trying to hold onto the warmth of all the love & affection & support I received only so recently, while honoring the loneliness I’m feeling from a week with no plans in view with friends. 

And then the additional sadness coming from other sides, too. 

On the one hand, the sadness from the proof that the relationship with my other local nonbinary queerplatonic friend has ended — this final proof coming from the fact that they forgot or ignored my birthday, which they usually remembered. 

On the other, the sadness from realizing that the attempted reconnection with my European queer ex-lover is not going to work — this final realization coming from their latest messages, which I had put off reading until yesterday, as I didn’t want to jeopardize “my birthday week”. But it’s real, it’s really over: now I know and I have to deal with “losing them a second time”. 

And finally, there’s the dread of the looming holidays. Of Thanksgiving coming up next week with the reminder that I don’t have a “family” to spend it with — or maybe I do, a scattered chosen family, but it still requires a lot of effort in planning and reminding friends to please not forget me during the holidays while also trying to forget myself the pain of being estranged from my own family of origin that doesn’t accept me for who I am.