The Little Prince and the Fox

I think this might be the hardest phase… 

Three days ago, on the morning of Thursday, January 26th, I had my gender-affirming top-surgery. And now I’m in this in-between phase: neither having that body I had been used to for years, for decades, nor yet having the partly new body that I’ve been craving for so long. 

I’m somewhere in between, like a hermit crab in between two shells, when the old one has been shed and the new one hasn’t been found, yet: weak and vulnerable, almost naked, and partly in need of hiding. 

Hopefully, this phase won’t last too long. And while it does, I’ll be as gentle as I can to myself, to my body and soul, and let all the loving support around me keep seeping in and embrace me warmly, safely.

Keep that vulnerable little hermit crab warm and safe.

Funny how time stops beating regularly in these phases before some big event, some huge leap of faith — minutes drag on like centuries, hours are gone in seconds. 

One year ago in these exact same days I was preparing for my partly unknown move, my transition, from California to Colorado. 

Now I’m preparing for another partly unknown move, another transition: from my given body with breasts to a new one rid of female breast tissue. 

On January 26th, 2022, I arrived at my chosen destination in Colorado. 

On January 26th, 2023, I will be undergoing surgery to align my body with my gender identity. 

I know it will be months before my “new” body, my chest actually looks like what I’m hoping for — just as it took months before I was able to rebuild a sustainable and somewhat steady life here in Colorado. This is what makes these moves, these decisions, these events, momentous leaps of faith. 

It’s the third time I’ve been through a momentous life change precisely around this time of year. Yesterday, in fact, was my “anniversary of liberation”: the day I got on my flight from Europe to California, liberating myself seven years ago. 

This is “my moment”. Even this “frozen week” before the “big day”. This is always the hardest moment or phase of these huge events in my life: the worst or hardest and most terrifying phase for me is often the one or two weeks before the actual event. It’s this last phase of hectic activity that somehow also feels “frozen”, frozen in space & time, like a still snapshot out of a rolling video. The surface is a frenetic turmoil, a frenzy of last-minute activities and urgent errands, emotions flying on a wild roller-coaster; but something deep seems to be frozen. Doubts and last-minute or deeply-buried fears arise and explode almost uncontrolled and on the surface seem to cast a doubt on the final decision, but the final decision is really made, unmovable deep down inside, set in stone in some unfathomable conviction arising from a visceral sense of inevitability. 

Inevitability because, no matter what the future arising from this momentous decision, from this big event, might bring, the present or current situation has simply come to be unbearable. 

“Change is not necessary unless it is necessary to change”, my beloved maternal grandmother used to say (from her privileged WASP position). 

The need for change might not be apparent or obvious or clear here, and I myself fear it in some ways; yet, it truly is necessary for me in ways and for reasons that I cannot fully explain in words but that I feel deep down in my gut, that I know to be true viscerally. 

So in this last week of frenetic frenzy and frozen time, all I can really do is trust: trust my gut; trust myself, i.e. trust my own feelings and thoughts and decisions that have been unraveling and that I have been processing and evaluating (even with professional support & guidance) for months & years; trust the people around me who care about me and will take care of me.  

And hopefully, once again, this time of year will prove itself to be a wonderful “time of liberation” for me…

Getting on testosterone feels like one of the best decisions of my life. 

As my arms & shoulders squeeze into, stretch out, or simply can no longer fit into my old tops, as my thighs fill my jeans in a different way, as I see my body in the mirror morphing slowly but surely, one of my oldest, most vivid memories from childhood comes back to me. I must have been somewhere between 5-8 years old. My father had one of those home-exercise resistance bands made with springs, also called “chest expander”, to strengthen the upper body, particularly pectoral and bicep muscles, that he kept stowed in one of the lower shelves of one of his closets. I wasn’t allowed to use it, of course, as it was deemed “dangerous” and also “very inappropriate” since I was AFAB (even now if you look for these devices on Amazon, for instance, they’re still aimed at a very “buff” male audience). And my vivid memory is this: of me sneaking to find this device and use it whenever I could, when my parents were out and I was free to do my thing. And I truly loved it — not just the thrill of doing something forbidden but also, and mostly, the fact of doing something explicitly and clearly meant for boys/men! 

But what does one do with a pretty little girl with golden locks and big blue eyes (at least of my generation whose own mother had wanted to do ballet and hadn’t been allowed to by her own mother)? Of course, you take her to a ballet school and put her in a tutu. So for years I did ballet, slowly starting to do other physical activities such as running track, sprinting and playing soccer, as my light and lean body grew to be “just a little too muscular” for the “perfect dainty ballerina” (which was then the unhealthy model of classical ballet dancers). And here pops up another vivid memory: my fellow ballet students continuously amazed by my biceps and even some of my ballet instructors commenting on them (although by that time I had stopped using my father’s device). 

When I finally quit ballet and started swimming at age 15 and proved to have an excellent breast-stroke, my mother forbid me to compete on a swim team as well as to play water-polo seriously (so I only played that on an amateur co-ed side team) because of the risk of my “shoulders becoming too big and unfeminine and unattractive”. 

OMG, if my mother saw me now! 

The point, though, is that what I’m feeling now is not at all a rebellion against, or revenge or victory over, my parents forbidding me to do things as a child/youth. What I’m experiencing is much, much deeper and stronger and more positive than that: I feel that I am really coming into myself, becoming MYSELF: at last becoming my real self, that person that I had always felt & known that I was, since the youngest age. 

In the words from Dorothy’s song What’s Coming to Me, “I got what’s mine comin’ to me”.

[Trigger warnings: Trauma (particularly in sexual and/or relational situations)]

There’s clearly trauma that has been triggered for me here. 

The reply I gave the other person’s question about relationships on our date on Tuesday night came from a place of insecure attachment and the thoughts, emotions, and behaviors I’ve had since are clear symptoms of the unhealthy “fearful-avoidant” attachment style. And probably even the mere hypersensitivity of my reaction and my apparently “ridiculously strong” feelings in the past couple days are, in reality, the signs of my trauma having been triggered again. 

This person & I — both of us — exchanged glances at the gym that clearly meant mutual physical attraction; their “picking me up” at the gym and our two dates and even our kiss were fully consensual; there was no forcing, no pressure. In fact, while being upfront and a little bold, this person has been (and I believe is in general) a kind and very considerate human, and probably more tactful than myself in general. 

So why should I feel so hurt and almost threatened by someone with whom there’s clear mutual physical attraction telling me “you’re hot”? 

The reason is a little complicated and rooted in my trauma, but clear to me now after a couple of days processing it. It’s because that sentence came paired together with two other ingredients: on the one hand, behavior that showed or seemed or could have been interpreted by me as deeper, personal interest and/or the beginning of close emotional connection; on the other, the explicit phrasing of emotional/relational unavailability (at least, for now). So what is going on for me here really is that I feel deceived. I’m not saying that person is trying to deceive me — actually, I am rationally convinced that they’re not trying to deceive me at all, on the contrary, they’re being very open and honest and upfront with me. But my past experiences that haven’t been fully processed, yet, are shining a completely different light on the situation for me: this light is “true” and valid but it’s my own truth (not theirs) and it’s rooted in trauma. 

Yes, I’m hot. After years, decades of feeling uncomfortable in my body and even despising it at times, now I LOVE it, at last, and can say to myself, “Hello gorgeous!” feeling it deeply true inside me. If trusted friends make comments on my body, it’s totally okay: it feels safe, comfortable, appropriate, even helpful, validating, affirming. If someone in a professional setting makes a comment on my physical attractiveness, as it has happened to me with coworkers in the industry or even students, I get furious because I find it so profoundly inappropriate and disrespectful. If someone with whom I merely have mutual sexual attraction with a simple but somehow solid level of trust (e.g. a “fuck buddy”) says, “you’re hot”, that’s totally fine and actually flattering and probably something I’d be saying to them, too. But that same phrase coming from someone with whom I get the feeling that there is, or might be, emotional intimacy but with whom there isn’t sufficiently deep trust, yet — that will set me spinning in a loop of fear and pain because I will actually feel deceived and unsafe (even though it might not actually be a deceitful/unsafe situation). 

So now that all this is clear to me, how do I deal with these feelings of pain, fear, deceit? 

The long-term solution is, of course, therapy, which I’m already doing. 

The short-term, “here & now” solution for this specific situation with this particular person is, for me, to clarify. 

On the one hand, I can offer a more complete and truthful reply to their question about what I would want from a relationship now. On the other, I can — I actually want & need to — ask them to clarify their own answer/explanation. What it really boils down to, for me, now is to understand the following: does the fact that this person is admittedly “not ready to jump into a committed long-term relationship” (quoting them) but still approached me at the gym because they found me “hot” and they still asked if they could kiss me at the end of the evening, after our “relationship conversation”, does all this mean that they only want to have sex with me? 

This is all I really need to know now. Where do I stand? What is this about? How much can I safely invest? 

I wouldn’t be offended or hurt if they just wanted to have sex with me as long as it’s clear. I’ve had just sexual relationships and/or “fuck buddies” before and some actually really nice experiences in that way: but for me the key is clarity. Total clarity. I need to know where I stand emotionally. If we don’t want to invest emotionally and we just want to fuck around, fine, but I need to know. And knowing beforehand, I can actually make an informed, adult decision, giving my adult response rather than one rooted in trauma.

The physical, maybe teenager, part of me would undoubtedly give a loud “Yes!!!” reply to “just sex” with this person from the gym. But my adult response might still be a “No” this time around because I may still be too vulnerable for any intimacy at all with someone like this person with whom I also feel the potential for emotional connection and with whom it might therefore be hard for me to maintain healthy boundaries for now.

It’s 3:30 in the morning and I cannot sleep. 

Last night I went on my second date with the person who picked me up at the gym: a dinner date. 

On the outside, one could say it went really well: the conversation flowed pleasant and lively, never dull, continuously for a couple hours; the vibe was good; we evidently got along, there was a great connection or resonance; we got each other’s different “genderqueerness” and each seemed to accept important aspects of the other’s personal, and in particular gender-related, journeys; and the evening ended with a kiss and both of us saying we’d like to meet again. And yet… 

And yet, I cannot sleep because I’m upset by troubling feelings that started almost immediately as I was driving home last night. I cannot put my finger on them fully, they’re still somewhat confused, but they’re very intense and very troubling, so I’ll try and write down what I can figure out for now. 

The source of these upsetting thoughts and feelings of mine is clear: a question the other person asked me towards the end of dinner, asking me how I felt about, or what I expected from, a relationship now. The question caught me totally unprepared and I made a mess at answering it. At first, after trying to put my thoughts together sufficiently to give an answer, I actually deferred by asking them if they could give me their answer first. Which they did, and which was along the following lines: “I’m not really looking for a relationship now; I’m not ready to jump into a relationship because of grief that I’m still processing; at some point I’d like a long-term committed relationship again but not now; I need a lot of time to do my own things, including parenting; but I saw you at the gym the other day and thought you were really hot”. 

I truly and deeply appreciate the openness and directness of this person’s answer and, on top of it, the mature attitude they have been showing all along of just being extremely upfront and clear about things, bringing up topics and asking questions, even possibly uncomfortable ones, that should be brought up and asked in an adult relationship. On the other hand, though, there are two aspects of their answer that hurt and/or worry me. The first aspect is the fact of being perceived and defined as “hot”; it’s happened several times & with different people quite openly recently and while it feels initially, momentarily flattering, the deeper and longer-lasting sensation with which I’m left is rather painful: I feel like I’m seen and/or appreciated only for my “looks” (which will definitely not last forever and which I’m not particularly trying to emphasize) and not valued for my inner qualities. The other is the “I’m not looking for something now, I’m not ready to jump into a relationship” part: this sounds the “unavailability alarm” very loudly for me. On their part, telling me all this upfront and early on is honest, open, mature. But for me, it triggers pain and alarm from past experiences and other relationships in which I’ve been and, in particular, recent tendencies of mine in California of going for or falling for people who were unavailable: unhealthy patterns of mine which caused me lots of pain.

On the other hand, I’m also very unsatisfied with myself, with my own answer that I eventually gave them. I omitted telling them some of the more important things I need or want or really feel, such as my fundamental tendency towards polyamory and my desire to find a “principal partner” now while also having the freedom to have sexual and/or romantic relationships with other people. And I feel like I said too much on a level that is too personal or intimate, and also ultimately inappropriate or very biased by the social conditioning I received for so long, by telling them that I’ve never been in a relationship with a woman before. First of all, I feel awful about saying it because I know that, while not being straight out mis-gendering, it does not allow for or could seem dismissive of their genderqueerness; and I feel even more awful about it because I truly do see and appreciate their genderqueerness, I truly do see the “them” along with the “her”, and realize that this part of my answer came more from a deep, maybe childish fear of my own which is definitely very biased by social conditioning — and I, with my own gender journey and battles against normativities, should be the last person to make such a comment! Moreover, did I really need to tell them, so early on, that I’ve only been in sexual and/or romantic relationships with men and a non-binary person? Was that really necessary, relevant, appropriate? It just feels so wrong to me now to have said something like that to them. And even more so while not telling them about my real needs and wishes, like polyamory and my desire for having a principal partner soon. I feel like I gave them answers from a place of fear from my own previous relational wounds; answers from my own insecure attachment styles; answers from biased social conditioning from which I haven’t been able to liberate myself, yet, despite all my battles to do so. 

I’m terribly disappointed with myself, with what seems to me like an actual incapacity to be an adult when getting close in a specific type of intimacy with someone I like. 

On top of that, I’m also scared of getting into the usual pattern of falling for someone unavailable to me and getting hurt again — and diverting energy and attention from other things that are very important to me now, like my upcoming gender-affirming top-surgery, my career, and finding a partner who is really available for me while also open to polyamory. 

When it comes to intimate, romantic relationships, I feel like I keep making the same mistake over and over again…

These have been the best “holidays” that I’ve had in a while. 

One of the strongest feelings in December 2016 was the sense of liberation and joyous relief for not having to undergo the usual “holiday tour de force” into which I had been forced my entire life up to then (or, at least, for two decades since they stopped being fun when I “grew out of them” but wasn’t allowed to avoid or ignore them). 

Since then, my Christmases and “Gregorian” or Western New Year’s in California have varied a lot, still being less stressful or painful or triggering than how they were for me back in Europe but also suffering from the effects of the pandemic (and probably some of my own stress on top of it). 

I’m a little afraid of jinxing things if I write this but I’ve been feeling consistently grounded for over two weeks now. Things haven’t been perfect or “all good”. There have been hiccups and scares and worries — the frightening possibility of my health insurance not approving my gender-affirming top-surgery, some loneliness here & there, the non-ideal situation with my housemate, the fear of not having the support I need around my gender-affirming top-surgery, an upsetting conversation with a dear friend, and the ongoing concern always present at the back of my mind of my gender-affirming top-surgery actually happening in less than a month. But I seem to somehow handle these issues without getting as overwhelmed as I had previously, in the past months. Moreover, after the initial upset, I’ve been finding it easier to come back down to my “ground state”, to feel grounded and okay in a shorter amount of time and with less effort. And last but not least, I have been able to access more easily and more consistently strengths or skills or grounding habits that have always been part of my “internal tool-kit” but which had become less easily available to me in the recent past: a strong and clear capacity to put the upsetting thoughts or feelings aside after venting or processing them, without ignoring them fully but, rather, not allowing them to take hold of the whole of me; taking a very matter-of-fact problem-solving approach to the issues arising; turning to the positive things in my life and letting myself dwell on those more; a wonderful re-found grounding joy and peace (with much less impostor syndrome) in doing science, which has once again become what it has often been for me throughout my life — an anchor or safe haven.  

There are also, of course, many practical reasons for this groundedness I’ve been feeling and for these holidays having been so peaceful for me, including: being able to actually spend time in-person with friends and acquaintances here despite the holidays and being around other people who don’t celebrate Christmas, either (YAY!!!); feeling the affection and connection with remote friends who have been making time for me despite the holidays and, in particular, reconnecting to a couple of my oldest and dearest friends and communicating with them more often and deeply again; the fact that the “really important dates” for me this winter will be towards the end of January, with the anniversary of my move to Colorado and my gender-affirming top-surgery, which reduce the symbolic importance of the holidays, in a good sense, shifting it or spreading it out throughout this season; the excitement of possibly starting to date someone here; the weather, with its perfect (for me, privileged for not being forced to necessarily go out in the snow) alternation of snow, cold, storms, and sunshine, allowing me to enjoy both the coziness of the season that I seem to naturally need and the freedom of getting outdoors enough; the liberty to work from home on a very flexible and autonomous schedule and the fortunate coincidence of having re-found my scientific ardor & confidence to actually get work done. 

I am well aware that these last two points, in particular, come from a position of privilege that I have and can only acknowledge gratefully while trying to make the best of it — for them, as well as for the other reasons for my happiness & groundedness, I am full of gratitude. 

However, some of this I have earned and come a long way to find. A year ago, a good friend’s violent husband literally kicked me out of their house moments before Christmas dinner was put on the table; another of my closest friends bailed on me last minute for New Year’s Eve after we had planned it all out & built up a lot of expectations around it; and while struggling with depression and/or burnout, I was packing up (with the invaluable help of some very good friends) my Californian life to set out for Colorado with a plan reaching only as far as the following five or six months. I’m not a hero(in), I couldn’t have done all this, as most of the things in my life, without my loving, supportive friends and generous people around me. I just want to remember and celebrate what feels good now. 

My last snowy New Year’s before this one, supposedly relaxing and having fun in the mountains, was in reality leaden with heartbreak and forced companionship. 

This New Year’s weekend was a perfect, delightful balance between joyful company and peaceful solitude, between homely coziness and outdoor adventure. Something to celebrate, for sure!

Today I went on my first official queer date. And my first date ever with a woman. 

A little over a year ago, in September 2021, after a couple months of very intense climbing and regular weight-lifting, I had gotten as big & muscular as I had ever been (at least up until then), I had been using “they” pronouns officially even at work for about a month, and was finally really embracing and starting to feel more deeply, or more openly or consciously, the boy in me. And I can distinctly remember this one morning as I was getting ready to go to work: I saw myself, my strong (naked) shoulders in the mirror, I really saw the boy in me, and I realized all of a sudden that I felt less attracted to, or less interested in, (cis) men and then the thought came to me, very clearly, “Now that I am openly a boy maybe I don’t need to be with a boy as a partner”. 

Gender identity and sexual preference are definitely two distinct things. And yet, as my own gender identity has been evolving or, rather, coming out and expressing itself more openly and clearly (even to myself), my sexual preferences have also been shifting. Or maybe just as I’m finally allowing my “gender world” to express itself in a more flexible way — even beyond the “gender-non-conformity” that has always been part of me & my character — in parallel I am also allowing my pansexuality, which has always been part of me as well, to come out and express itself and find its way. 

It’s as if my gradual changes and growth had finally led me to say “Fuck it!” to the whole of heteronormativity. 

My entire life, as far as I can remember, I have been fighting or resisting or at least questioning norms that have always seemed artificial to me. But I have also stuck to some of them — heterosexuality (or the semblance of it), for instance. Maybe because it was so easy for me to be in romantic/sexual relationships with (cis) men… Or maybe because I felt the unconscious need to hold onto something, at least one thing, that was (perceived as) “mainstream” or “solid”. On the other hand, though, I’ve somehow always been peeling away layers of “mainstream” from my life and pushing my boundaries of exploration further and further, especially since moving to California. And now I feel like I’m finally letting go even of the last little shreds of “certainty” or “mainstream”. After embracing my own queerness — first in my polyamory, then in my non-binary/trans-masculine gender identity, and then in a romantic involvement with a non-binary friend — now I’m totally letting go of almost everything that I’ve known or done before in the romantic/sexual sphere and allowing my queer gut & queer heart to take the lead, at last. 

After having been a tomboyish & sexually oblivious girl, then turning into an attractive & (sexually) confident woman, I’m now in the shy, sexually/romantically awkward teenager-boy phase. Totally out of my depth. With hardly any idea of what I’m doing. Scared but excited. And fully relating to that favorite quote of mine by André Gide: 

“On ne découvre pas de terre nouvelle sans consentir à perdre de vue, d’abord et longtemps, tout rivage.”

(“One doesn’t discover new lands without consenting to lose sight, for a very long time, of the shore.”)

How do teenagers get anything done at all??? 

How can they manage to get schoolwork done, maybe a side job, get chores done, and eventually graduate? How can they focus enough, for a long enough time, to get anything practical or sensible done? 

Somehow, the memories of my own “first” puberty, my own female puberty as a teenager, are vague. In many ways, I guess, it was masked or subdued: it happened gradually and really not dramatically at all (from the physical/physiological viewpoint), quite gently, so I probably was able to get used to the changes almost subconsciously; moreover, it entailed the “normal” or “expected” changes as an AFAB, so I guess that made it easier to take so much for granted; on the other hand, my own family of origin hyper-responsibilized me for almost my entire life, often treating me like an adult or older than my actual age from a very young age, while sometimes instead treating me like a child for longer than appropriate, so at the end of the day I was hardly ever treated in the “age-appropriate way” by them; finally, and very importantly I think, I was going through a “standard” or “natural” or “normal” phase for my age (& body or external appearance) together with my peers, so I had the subconscious, natural, spontaneous support or, at least, acceptance of the world around me. 

My only really distinct memories of disruptive puberty effects are from the summer of my junior-into-senior year & last high school year: probably late for a “biological female”, my sex drive awakened all of a sudden then and I can very distinctly remember several moments in which I really had trouble focusing on what I had to do because of my sex drive. 

My “second” or “chosen” puberty now is often totally disrupting and distracting. There are so many moments when I can get hardly anything done or have to struggle enormously to get anything practical/sensible done because I’m so enraptured by the changes my body & mind are undergoing. I’m fascinated by the hairs growing on my body, really liking some of them while having mixed feelings about others, but nonetheless fascinated by the process. A lot of my attention and concentration are taken up by adjusting my voice — its pitch, the intonation, and other “gendering” details — very often even unintentionally. Plenty of my emotional and intellectual energy are taken up by getting used to the new perceptions I have of the world around me and of the new ways in which the world — people — around me perceive me, interact with me, behave with me, address me. And then, last but not least, there’s all the practical hassles with all the time and energy necessarily spent on paperwork, offices, doctors appointments, phone calls, etc. 

Now I really get it, fully empathizing, why many of my students dropped out of college while “transitioning”. 

I still don’t like, or identify with, the term “transitioning” for this experience I’m going through. For me it still feels like a further, even more authentic, step in my own growth and self-determination; it feels like “coming into myself” (rather than “coming out”); and like my second puberty, my chosen puberty, my “correct” puberty. But still, regardless of how we want to call or define this process and despite it being a consciously chosen process and in many ways a wonderful, beautiful, joyful process, it’s a hard process nonetheless: it’s difficult, it’s scary, it’s disruptive, it’s unconventional. And it’s happening at a time of (my) life when neither I nor the world around me are fully prepared for it — which makes it even more disruptive, unconventional, and in many ways lonely.

If everything goes well, I’m exactly five weeks away from my gender-affirming, masculinizing mastectomy! 

Having gotten a negative (i.e. OK) result for the mammogram I had on Monday and given all the symbolism in today’s date (exactly five weeks from my planned surgery, winter solstice…), I’m going to start a gender-affirming countdown to my top-surgery, not only to prepare myself for the big event but also to celebrate its arrival.

When I was finalizing my decision about moving to Colorado a year ago, I can distinctly remember a particular conversation I had with one of my “sailing uncles”, one of my older friends who are also a sort of father figure for me. I was telling him that I just craved walking in the snow-covered woods. And he replied, “Well, then, I think your decision is made”. 

I don’t know where that craving in me was coming from, but it’s still present and getting satisfied and rewarded now. We’re getting one of the most beautiful winter days I’ve seen yet. 

Yesterday evening it snowed heavily again. And then overnight the temperatures plummeted to well beneath freezing (-20 degrees Celsius or -10 degrees Fahrenheit!). And today it’s sunny. Actually so cold and sunny that the rare (at these latitudes) phenomenon of “sun halo“ can be observed! Everything is coated in a soft, puffy white layer and the light is so bright that everything is glowing. It’s like everything is more alive than ever and rejoicing in this winter liveliness. 

I absolutely love the full range of seasons we get here in Colorado! I love the dry heat of the summer, being outdoors and sweating it all out or having to simply slow down in the hottest hours and then come alive at night and/or in the very early morning; I love the explosion of colors and smells in the spring, the flowers bursting, the birds chirping, the squirrels running around and mating; I love the palettes of colors in the autumn, that quiet liveliness shining through the reds and oranges and yellows against the clear blue sky; and I love the winter, the dry cold, the frost, the bright sunshine reflected off the snow as well as the quiet, dark days, the dark snow-storm clouds, the long and cozy evenings — I like both being outdoors and indoors in this type of winter weather. 

I know this cold is scary and can be a nuisance. I know there’s lots of risks involved with it when I’m going on my outdoor adventures in the mountains or even just trail running in the snow and icy weather. I know that my car might not start tomorrow and that it will be a hell of a job to get it clean from the pile of snow. Just as I knew how risky it was to be outdoors in the summer heat. And yet, I truly love this all. It reminds me of all the weather variations I experienced when I was growing up and living in Europe and makes up for the “flattening out of the weather” in California.

And it makes me feel so alive!