The Little Prince and the Fox

… And I also know the reason why the lack of space for me, the fact of there not being any room for mutuality, for me to be really seen, in these two relationships is so painful or disappointing for me right now: it’s because with both of these persons there has been intellectual and emotional closeness and even physical attraction. We’ve been important for each other in several different ways. But neither of them knows about my profound realizations and important changes, particularly around my gender, from the past few months, and yet they are both people to whom I’d be yearning to say, “I’m a boy! Do you see the boy I am?”

And maybe even, “Do you see the boy that you fell in love with?”…

But that may be too much…

“Feel it. That thing you don’t want to feel. Feel it. And be free.” [Nayyirah Waheed]

It’s pain. Pain behind the anger. And it’s behind the anger, not underneath the anger, because it’s more as if the anger were like a veil hiding the pain.

I tend to be a joyful (and I believe also incorrigibly optimistic) person. When I get upset my “go-to feeling” is anger. I don’t hold grudges but I fire up and can feel anger extremely intensely in the moment and for a while later.

I’ve always been like this. Only relatively recently, though, have I discovered that my anger often is a shield for my pain: often when I get angry it’s actually because I’m deeply hurt.

I’m strong and independent but also extremely sensitive, I feel very intensely and deeply. So I guess anger, particularly as a “go-to” emotion, is a way of protecting myself. In that way, I think it’s helpful and healthy for me, especially since I don’t hold grudges.

“Feel it. That thing you don’t want to feel. Feel it and be free.”

Yesterday, it was anger. Today it’s pain, some sadness, even some disappointment – and these deeper emotions are the true source of yesterday’s anger.

Yesterday’s anger was real and justified. A person I’ve known for a while, for the n-th time did something unprofessional/impolite/immature/inconsiderate towards me. That’s a fact and a just cause for irritation. But the justified anger I felt towards this person wasn’t the whole of it: there was also anger towards myself for letting something happen that had already happened so often before in similar ways. I was frustrated with myself. For caring too much, I guess.

And this morning the deeper emotions and causes have surfaced: the pain, the sadness. Pain and sadness because yesterday’s incident left me with the clearer sensation of there not being any space for me, of there not being any room for mutuality, for me to be really seen, in this relationship.

And actually, in this moment, I should say “in these relationships”: because incidents last week with another person who’s very close and dear to me also left me with the same clear sensation of there not being any room for mutuality – at least, not now.

With neither of these persons is this a new situation or sensation: it’s all happened before, with both of them.

I’m slowly learning to set better boundaries that are healthier for myself and keep a healthy distance if/when necessary. But incidents still happen where I’m caught unawares: incidents that lead my anger to flare up, leaving me to have to deal with the debris of the explosion, and then under all the rubble finding that same pain, again.

These explosions are getting smaller, though, and less destructive. And under the rubble I think I’m learning to also find little treasures and blossoms in the debris.

And climbing buddies can be wonderful! 

The mental fatigue started during the pandemic, partly from my own illness and isolation and partly from the extra stress of teaching online (without the right tools or preparation to do so properly). Being on leave this semester definitely helped — that’s why I was put on leave in the first place: because I was burnt out from work- & pandemic-related stress and trauma. Being away and focusing on something very different from showing up in a classroom (whether real or virtual) really helped. But I still pushed through huge mental and emotional endeavors in these past six months. The move (which is still incomplete), the uncertainties, my thyroid illness, practical issues with my car and housing, the big insights and decisions related to my non-binary/trans identity, finding myself and a new place for myself in the world. And also, getting my textbook written, and done on time — with all the rest of the shit hitting the fan. For better or for worse, I was conditioned to be extremely self-disciplined, and I tend to be very self-motivated. And it certainly paid off with this huge textbook project. But now I’m really tired. I’m still trying to unwind and decompress. It’s taking me longer than I expected it would, I guess. 

I’m mentally tired.

And it really hit me on an outdoor climb yesterday. 

I tend to be quite a dare-devil. I take risks — calculated risks but still risks, and I enjoy doing so, I always have. Fear isn’t usually a feeling I struggle with or feel in an overwhelming way. Fear is usually an emotion I can handle well: it alerts me to whatever risk or danger (physical or emotional or practical) I might be facing, but it has hardly ever paralyzed me or put me in “freeze” mode. Despite the many risky situations I’ve been (or gotten myself) in, I’ve really panicked only a couple times. 

And yesterday I realized how much an already-tired mind is so much more prone to freeze from fear. 

I didn’t panic, but I got close to it. I had to fight with my mind, to control fear that usually I wouldn’t have felt in such a situation, and not even in more dangerous ones. The effort to stay calm and focused yesterday was enormous in some moments. 

But fortunately I was with a bunch of people (actually, all of them strangers except one, at least until yesterday!) who understood. And fortunately the one person I knew already before going to the climbing meetup yesterday is one of my best (albeit recent) climbing buddies here. I would dare say he’s a friend. 

He roped me into this climbing meetup with a bunch of strangers and we encouraged each other to go despite tiredness and busyness because we both know how much we each want to meet new friends and climbing buddies here. We got there quite late because we were both super tired and slow yesterday morning. And as we were approaching the climbing area, we got to a portion that had to be scrambled, that I wasn’t expecting but that in normal circumstances I would have just scrambled up and enjoyed without much thought. Yesterday, I froze. He scrambled up to scout it out and then patiently let me make up my mind on which way I’d go up. But I couldn’t. So he patiently waited and gently offered a couple options: he could down-climb and then climb back up together with me, or he could belay me off one of the trees there so I could have the safety of a rope (totally unnecessary in practice but mentally really helpful). I opted for the latter and joined him where he was waiting for me half-way up to the meeting point. Then comes another portion to scramble, and I freeze again. The rest of the climbers at this point are visible to us, on a long wide ledge just 20-30 feet up. I started feeling so tired and mentally fatigued that I thought I’d just go home, turn back and go home. I told my buddy to just go join the other climbers and I’d go home. I knew how much it means to him to meet new buddies (I’m feeling the same) and I sincerely wanted to let him have a good day without stressing myself out. And I told him, “Don’t worry, go and meet the new people and have fun. I’ll go back, and we’ll just climb together some other time. It’s really okay”, and I meant it. But he replied to me, “But I don’t know them. I know you. So if you’re up for it, I don’t mind at all belaying you up. I know how you’re feeling in your head, it happens to all of us sometimes”. It was really wonderful. Lovely. 

So my buddy gives me the rope with which he had just belayed me to coil up while he goes up to scout out the area where the other climbers are, with the plan that he’ll belay me up for this last portion as well (which also wouldn’t have needed it in reality!). And as I started coiling the rope, letting my hands, my body just do this thing I know so well automatically, and probably as my friend’s words sunk deep into my head & soul, my mind calmed down. I looked up at the past portion and knew I could do it. I called to my friend to just take the rope and put it away: “I can do this”, I said. He looked at me and asked once, “Tu es sûr(e)?”. “Oui, je suis sûr(e)”, I’m sure. I knew I could do it and so did he. When I got up and joined him and the rest of the climbers, he said with a big smile on his face, “A. is back in spirit! You conquered your fear”! 

So I was and so I had, at least partly. And I was able to do so party because I’ve learned to know myself and handle myself and my emotions, even the most difficult and overwhelming ones. But also thanks to my buddy’s attitude, for his being supportive without being pushy. I felt seen, I felt understood. I felt that I had nothing to prove, neither to myself nor to him, nor to any of the other climbers. Everyone was patient and understanding with me. All climbers have been there. 

Mental fatigue is real.

I’m so overwhelmed by emotions that I can hardly bear it — despite them being by far mostly positive. 

I want to cry from the relief and joy, and even exhaustion. 

I’m cat-sitting for friends until Monday and as I was walking down the main street in downtown, in a small city here in Colorado that is one of my top-three favorite places in the world, I felt so well that I could hardly believe it and couldn’t stop smiling to myself. Surrounded by rainbow flags and “Happy Pride” signs and by plenty of queer persons just walking around everywhere, and just soaking in the generally outdoorsy-hippie vibe that this place and the people here have always, it felt like paradise. I felt safe and comfortable, seen without sticking out and yet visible and accepted. 

I am trans. There’s no question about that and now it’s just so glaringly evident to me, and probably to most of the outside world as well, that I wonder how it could have taken me so long to realize this… And then I remember, and remind myself, that I have felt like this, somehow, my hole life but just didn’t have the vocabulary, concepts, or support to express it. 

I see my reflection in shop windows and mirrors, and it’s a non-binary body that could really be trans-masculine or trans-feminine at this point — either way, it’s so clearly non-binary and trans, and I LOVE IT!!! 

My voice is also deepening, and I love this process and can’t wait to have a non-binary voice that doesn’t gender me as female anymore. 

Astronomically, it isn’t quite summer yet — it’s close but not quite there, yet. But for me, today, a new season of my life has begun. Or maybe it really began a while ago but now it has exploded, and it’s this explosion that I’m overwhelmed by, albeit in a mostly positive way. 

Yesterday I finally completed my textbook and submitted it to the publisher. I feel immensely relieved and proud and joyful, and even in disbelief, from this. But especially, I keenly feel the closing and closure of a phase of my life and the beginning of a new one. Therefore, although it’s not quite summer yet, for me it’s summertime already and a new season has begun for me today. 

I’ve been in Colorado for almost half a year now. I haven’t officially started my new job and I’m not even sure, yet, in which town I’ll end up living. I’m still afraid that changing to a new health insurance, because of a new job, I might have issues getting the medical gender-care that I’ve had in the past few months and have come to realize that I really, really want. So there are still several unknowns for me and some fear related to them. 

But I also know and feel deep inside of me that this fear is a good sign, it’s a healthy fear: it’s the healthy fear of a new beginning, the healthy fear of a rebirth, the healthy fear of losing things that I know I really want — which means that now I know what I really want!!! That is so great, so wonderful, and feels so good. There are hardly words to express how good that feels. 

I know who I am, I know what I want, and I’m not afraid to express it, to show it, and to reach as far as I can to achieve it. 

I’m leaving a whole phase of my life behind me. And it feels so good, so necessary, like such a relief. And the best thing about it is that I’m leaving that phase of my life behind me without rupture, without fleeing it or negating it or regretting it: I’m wrapping it up nicely, I capped it off with my textbook which I leave as a beautiful (at least to me) legacy, grateful, hopeful, and happy to move on. 

I’ll still be there for whoever needs me, including all those (ex-)students/mentees who might still need me as a professional figure. But I’m also looking forward to relinquishing some of those responsibilities in my next job, at least for a while. I need this break, this change, even from all those responsibilities — professional, almost public, responsibilities. And I’m realizing fully now how much the relinquishing of that role, of those “public” responsibilities, has allowed me and is continuing to allow me to find myself and liberate myself and express myself and be myself more fully. 

This is probably going to be a transitory phase, but nonetheless an extremely important one that I need deeply and that I’m really looking forward to right now. 

For a new beginning. My new beginning. Another rebirth.

As Arys’s thyroid function renormalizes, their body is getting leaner again, the small breasts are shrinking; and as they exercise and strengthen intensely, the muscles show, the shoulders broaden, the arms grow.

To top off and celebrate this renewed masculinization of their body today Arys got a boy’s tank-top at their climbing gym and then wore it with no bra for the yoga class. Feeling an intense gender euphoria very similar to a runner’s high.

Then, the image in the mirror. They saw him. A boy, the boy.

Then, they saw the Boulderer. That’s when they saw it as clear as day: the reason they had fallen so intensely in love with that guy, the reason why that guy had gotten so much under their skin: because they felt him in their skin. It wasn’t just the mountain of mutual interests and experiences and feelings that Arys and the Boulderer shared; it wasn’t just that they could relate to each other on so many different levels. On top of all that, Arys saw their boy self in that guy, even physically – those shoulders, those arms, they felt like their own, like the ones they wished they’d have and identified with.

It was exactly like the feelings expressed in the book (& movie) “Call me by your name”: it’s falling in love with someone because you like and love that person but also because you see yourself – or your potential self – in that other person.

It can be intoxicating. But also extremely liberating – and gender euphoric – when recognized.

From the book “The disordered mind” by Eric R. Kandel (winner of the Nobel Prize in Medicine/Physiology):

‘Stressful life events – the death of a loved one, loss of a job, a major move, or rejection in a love relationship – can trigger depression. At the same time, depression can cause or exacerbate stress. Andrew Solomon, a professor of clinical psychology at Columbia University and a superb writer, describes the onset of depression following several stressful events in his life:

“I had always thought of myself as fairly tough, fairly strong, and fairly able to cope with anything. And then I had a series of personal losses. […] I managed to get through those crises more or less intact. Then, a couple of years later, I suddenly found myself […] “in terrible trouble”. And that was when I finally sought antidepressants and began the serious treatment of my illness.” ‘

So yeah, I guess we have a ready answer to give to whoever tells us, when we’re going through the n-th loss or struggle hitting us repeatedly over the course of just a few months or years, “I hope you can be grateful for this pain”. We can reply by giving them the scientific proof that too much pain is bad.

P.S.: I also love how my body looks and feels right now. This slight masculinization, this androgynous body in a skimpy summer dress!

[I need to write this down, to say this now, because I need to have a record of this feeling. Some proof.]

“Feel it. The thing that you don’t want to feel. Feel it. And be free.” [Nayyirah Waheed]

That’s from the guided meditation I did this morning. And it’s really what I needed to hear today.

So I will feel it – or, at least, acknowledge it, and then get on with my day of work. Feel it – or, at least, write it down and say it out loud, so then maybe I can get some restful sleep tonight instead of another sleepless night haunted by troubled emotions and thoughts.

I feel pain. And sadness. Some loneliness. And anger. And even some fear.

Pain and sadness from all the losses, including a recent breakup and the upcoming losses that will be a consequence of my “starting a new life” in Colorado.

I feel loneliness, pain and sadness also, in particular, from some routines I miss. In the last four months or so that I spent in California I had finally found a nice group of climbing buddies with whom I met more frequently and almost regularly; and in particular, my non-binary climbing friend & I were hanging out basically every weekend until I moved to Colorado in January. For a couple months in the spring here I had found a similar routine, meeting up with two or three friends on different days regularly every week. For logistical reasons this hasn’t happened with my new, but already good, friends here in about a month. And with my non-binary climbing friend from California it hasn’t happened in long time, of course, and might never happen again since now we’re in a break-up phase.

I enjoy my freedom, I like having my own space and time to myself, but I enjoy and thrive in such routines with friends and/or buddies – be it for walk&talks, profound conversations, or fun activities.

I’m feeling this loss keenly now, and with it sharp pain, deep sadness, and loneliness.

I also miss two other people from California, two guys with whom there were/are special, deep feelings. I can rationalize this loss all I want to, and usually don’t feel it as I’ve moved on and know our relationships have evolved to a stage that is much healthier. But still, in moments of loneliness and loss like now, I miss them. I miss seeing them, talking to them, flirting with them.

Then, there’s the anger. I’m angry for a sentence that my non-binary climbing friend wrote in one of the emails that finally led to our break-up. They wrote, “I hope you can be grateful for this pain”. I’m pretty sure they meant it in a kind way, or just stating a fact, a well-wish. But to me it comes across as condescending, and as such it really pisses me off. It also makes me feel like they haven’t realized how much loss and pain I’ve been through, and how much of it compounded in the past couple years, and in this way their sentence causes additional pain as well as anger, as I feel that they’re not seeing or hearing me – and haven’t really seen or listened to me for more than six months of supposedly deep friendship between us.

Sometimes pain it just too much.

I tend to have an attitude of gratitude for everything I go through – I’ve learnt to look at things this way, thankfully. And indeed, I am grateful for the recent clarification & consequent fallout with this special friend because it has helped me see and understand what I really want and also helped me find the courage to follow my own needs and desires, to be true to myself, and thus has brought me relief. But sometimes pain is simply too much.

Emotional and mental pain can be like physical pain: sometimes there’s just too much of it, or it occurs too often, and one cannot be grateful simply because one cannot recover enough to find the energy or strength for gratitude. Too much pain is bad – a colleague of mine once said to me, “All pain is bad, no matter how small it is”.

Too much pain, emotionally and mentally, in like a physical injury: you need a break from it. You need to get it to heal. You cannot be grateful for such intense or prolonged pain – at least, not for a long time until you’ve recovered from it. So what the heck – I still wish things hadn’t gone this way with that person. I don’t feel grateful for this extra dose of pain from this recent fallout that I really didn’t need now!!!

For now, I’m going to feel this pain, feel this anger. And I’m going to honor these emotions now.

I’m angry. And sad.

This hurts.

I miss those particular two people from California – I miss all the special moments and special feelings I had with them and might never have again because those persons are, for me, connected to experiences and parts of my life that have been fundamental and irreplaceable.

I’m going to feel it and I’m going to say it (first of all, even admitting it to myself), and hopefully then I’ll be free.

Some days I wake up with a distinct song playing in my head and a strong desire to listen to it.

This morning, it’s this one:

“Short change hero” by The Heavy.

I feel like one feels at mile 12 of a half-marathon: one has run 12 miles and has only 1.1 miles to go, and yet that last 1.1-mile stretch often feels like the hardest.

The half-marathon I’ve been running in the past six months has definitely been a trail race, one in the mountains with lots of ups and downs and tricky terrain – and also some beautiful views.

But it has required so much effort, mental even more than physical, that I have no energy left, hardly any mental energy left: any activity that requires even the smallest amount of planning, if it isn’t strictly necessary, I just eliminate it for now. I don’t have the bandwidth for it now.

I need a break so bad. A total break. One in which I can just lay in a grassy meadow, or sink into the sand at the beach, or even just lay in the grass in a park. With no need to plan, no logistics, no schedule, no timeline.

I recognize this type of tiredness: these desires are typical for me this time of year.

Despite the stressors having been different this winter & spring from those of the past few years, the exhaustion and need for a total break that I’m feeling now are the same.

I just want to get away in nature. I wish it could be done without too much planning… Just relax and melt into nature.