Three years ago, I had just gotten back to California from the 10-day “fun girls trip” I had done in Colorado with a dear friend. After such a wonderful trip in company of a close friend, and with still lots of unsettled emotions (that had been one of the reasons for our trip), I felt extremely lonely at my arrival in California, but fortunately was able to go spend the night at another (girl) friend’s house.
[July 4th, 2020 can just be added to the long list of holidays, and even normal days, that I spent alone in the year the pandemic broke out in the U.S.]
Last year, on July 4th I had just arrived in Colorado, for a second vacation here, which in many ways was very different from the trip I had done two years earlier with my friend. Not better or worse, just different: because I was changed, the world was changed, circumstances were different.
But both trips to Colorado marked important moments, or steps, that eventually, finally, led me to settle here this year. And spend my first 4th of July as a resident here. My third Independence Day connected to this area of the world, to this part of Colorado, and my first one as resident here!
In so many ways, such a wonderful Independence Day for me here today!
I wish I could elaborate on the horrible news of the U.S. Supreme Court overturning Roe but I am so upset that I cannot. I’m feeling sick in the stomach.
Access to abortion is a human right. Period. How can it still be put in question and attacked in any civil, humane society?
“Take criticism seriously, but not personally. If there is truth or merit in the criticism, try to learn from it. Otherwise, let it roll right off you.” [Unknown]
My sister has more than once said to me that I am “immature, selfish, and self-centered”. It has hurt me and upset me, but her criticism comes from a place of anger, from a refusal of dialogue; a judgement without really knowing me (anymore) and without sharing anything of her own life with me. So after the initial pain, I can let it roll off me.
When it’s some of my dearest and closest friends, though, saying that I’m selfish or self-centered, then I need to sit and think, and learn from it. It’s hard for me not to take such words personally when they come from a dear friend, but I am thankful for the food for thought that such truthful criticism brings.
Why am I so selfish sometimes, or self-centered?
Am I an awful, egotistic jerk?
Is it the symptom of some personality disorder, like narcissism, or a mental health issue, like depression?
Is it the consequence of not having had enough space and/or attention and/or approval for my true self when I was younger, when I needed it in my development and growth in critical, vulnerable years?
Or is it, instead, the consequence of sometimes giving too much to others and then needing to revert to myself and overdoing it in the opposite direction?
Or the sign that I’m going through a lot and just focus on myself because of the effort to get through/over something together with my natural tendency of being a reflective (sometimes overreflective) person?
Should I worry about my selfishness/self-centeredness?
Regardless of the cause, I’m sorry. To all those friends or people whom I might (have) inadvertently hurt by my moments of selfishness or self-centeredness: I am sincerely sorry. I didn’t mean to be that way and will do my best to learn from the truthful, kind, constructive criticism.
From the daily guided meditation I listened to this morning:
“May you meet this moment with kindness
May you meet this moment like a good friend”
May I meet and sustain this moment of renewed sadness and concern for the future with kindness. Because sadness, in fact, is what I’m feeling now. It seeped in again through the cracks of a tired soul yesterday afternoon and evening despite the lovely company of my adventure buddy & friend & host here. The sadness crept into this limbo of a week’s break, in this two-week limbo between the closing coronation of one phase and the unknown opening of another stage. A sadness that is heightened by the particular date today: exactly three years ago I was starting a “fun girls trip” in Colorado with one of my best friends, both of us in need of distraction from difficult and confusing heart-breaks/crushes; and six months ago, I was heading out of California towards Colorado with a car-load of uncertainties – and now I’ve been living in Colorado for six months… that’s half a year, already…!
So many things have changed since that trip with my friend three years ago, and yet so many things seem to have remained similar, or have come full circle – for better or for worse.
And although I do have some certainties to which I can look forward for the upcoming months and lots of wonderful accomplishments from the past few months/years, in this moment I mostly feel the weight of what I don’t have, of what I didn’t get or achieve, of what I’ve lost or am leaving behind and will be losing. Together with the weight of the unknowns I’m still facing.
So today kindness towards myself (as well as the world around me, of course!) is a must.
One of the songs I enjoyed the most (& listened to on repeat) on my road trip yesterday was “Aftermath” by R.E.M. (from an album which I originally connect to a specific phase of grad school).
Here it is with small adaptions for some of my recent and current emotions, in an overall feeling of joy and relief and renewed freedom:
Now the radio stutters snaps to life Some sour song that sets it right And when London falls He’d like to call But the stars collide
They’re beautiful and much maligned In a universe where you see the worst And it’s up to you to fix it
Now I’ve worked it out And I see it all And I’ve worked it out And I see it all And I want to shout How I see it all
It’s easy to dismiss the “what’s it all about” crowd There is no doubt, it’s this, here, now And I close my eyes I’m not going back So I work it out, overfeed the cat
And the plants are dry and they need to drink So I do my best, and I flood the sink Sit down in the kitchen and cry
Now I’ve worked it out And I see it all And I’ve worked it out And I see it all And I want to shout How I see it all
Now the universe left me for a runners lap It feels like home when it comes crashing back And it makes me laugh and it makes me cry When London falls and I’m still alive The radio stutters, it makes me laugh And the aftermath opens up my eyes I’m so alive
Now I’ve worked it out And I see it all And I’ve worked it out And I see it all And I want to shout How I see it all Now I’ve worked it out And I see it all How I’ve worked it out And I see it all
Yeah…
“Now I’ve worked it out And I see it all And I’ve worked it out And I see it all And I want to shout How I see it all”
Having allowed myself to first feel the anger, and then the pain, later allowed me to feel compassion as I realized that those two persons, in particular, cannot give me that mutuality I would like. Not because they don’t want to but just because they are not able to – not right now, maybe not ever. But I also can give them only what I can (or want to) give.
And finally, as I once again hit the road, anger and pain were all gone, leaving room for my whole, full, deep joy.
Joy for my freedom, joy for the opportunity to live my life authentically, as myself fully.
And joy for exploring another beautiful part of this country that is new to me while also visiting a friend who has moved here – one of the adventure buddies I met in Colorado last summer, with whom I connected then and stayed in touch for almost a year and I’m now visiting. Whom I can visit now because I am free!
… 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?”…
“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.
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.
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.
The Little Prince and the Fox 