Friday Night, Starbucks
I look out of the corner of my eye to the left and note a couple enjoying Starbucks by candlelight. Dusk is beginning to settle into this corner of Happy Cow. I note her smile, easy laugh and the fellow she is with is doing the same.
They reach across the table, holding each other’s hands, discussing various memories, their lives, etc. They talk; laugh as their discussion goes on into the early evening.
Coffee shared is an experience.
I think I’ve forgotten.
My truck went in for service earlier this week. Not that getting your truck serviced is news, but more my reaction to my service manager. She’s a lovely 40 something woman, single Mom and I found myself relating really well with her. I was explaining this to a co-worker at the clinic and she mentioned if my “residual male” had kicked in. I realized she asked a fair question and I quickly figured out the service manager related to me as a male person (I remain essentially androgynous at work and scrubs and clogs allow that freedom) and whether I was relating to her in that fashion. I realize once the cover of my scrubs came off, my evolution would be brutally obvious to her. I avoid as best I can any resemblance of romance, flirting, etc, (though a large part of me wants to) given my situation and my desire to not intentionally cause emotional harm to others.
To be honest, I’m quickly growing weary of this stage. My assistant earlier this week asked if I was wearing a bra (which I was) and reminded me that I can’t hide the girls anymore. I do enjoy being related to as a woman and more importantly my reacting to people with joy, a smile and often a song in my heart. I find joy in the long flowing skirts and heels and have been caught dancing to my own drummer in various places in and around Happy Cow.
I had my annual visit with the endocrinologist. I haven’t made what seems like a whole lot of progress this year in terms of weight loss. I lost seven pounds, most of that in the last two months. I have a lot of work yet to do on this front. My health and overall well being are worth it.
A garden variety of thoughts passed through my mind as I travelled down and back. I often thought about my work and remember I once had a life until I let my job eat it.
I don’t play well with others. I’d just as soon be left alone to practice my craft, not continually deal with interruptions. Growing up on a farm in the Midwest, we just got up and did what we needed to do. Not much needed to be said and over the years, my Dad and I could look at each other and know just what we needed to do to get the task done.
I tend to do emotionally better when I’m doing something. Cleaning some mess off the floor, knocking out some of the backlog of paperwork my job has become, or completing a workout. I often find myself just stopping because the mountain of paper, mess, etc just seems too much. It has taken time to get to that point; it’ll take time to get out. There are days where simply getting up is the challenge.
Transitioning is not a sprint, but is more like a marathon, especially when done later on in life. It simply takes time to learn new ways, discard unneeded ones and adapt what you can.
Things have definitely changed. I’m no longer unhinged by people’s negative reactions for the most part. I’ve been referred to as an “it”, “freak”, have had a person who works at the clinic tell me that they didn’t want to talk to me, but to my assistant about a patient who refused to come into the rehab clinic because I was “different”
It would have been easier to be “gay.” It’s just that I couldn’t relate to folk in that manner or to women as a male. I would have saved much cash, along with not having to essentially tear my life apart only to need rebuilding it.
I simply grew weary of being a basket case attempting to hold it in and myself together.
I remain alone for the most part and more often than not, find myself looking in, even when surrounded by a group of friends. I simply remain quiet, learn what I can and move forward from there. I don’t try to cause scenes.
Not a whole lot of change to speak of.
They reach across the table, holding each other’s hands, discussing various memories, their lives, etc. They talk; laugh as their discussion goes on into the early evening.
Coffee shared is an experience.
I think I’ve forgotten.
My truck went in for service earlier this week. Not that getting your truck serviced is news, but more my reaction to my service manager. She’s a lovely 40 something woman, single Mom and I found myself relating really well with her. I was explaining this to a co-worker at the clinic and she mentioned if my “residual male” had kicked in. I realized she asked a fair question and I quickly figured out the service manager related to me as a male person (I remain essentially androgynous at work and scrubs and clogs allow that freedom) and whether I was relating to her in that fashion. I realize once the cover of my scrubs came off, my evolution would be brutally obvious to her. I avoid as best I can any resemblance of romance, flirting, etc, (though a large part of me wants to) given my situation and my desire to not intentionally cause emotional harm to others.
To be honest, I’m quickly growing weary of this stage. My assistant earlier this week asked if I was wearing a bra (which I was) and reminded me that I can’t hide the girls anymore. I do enjoy being related to as a woman and more importantly my reacting to people with joy, a smile and often a song in my heart. I find joy in the long flowing skirts and heels and have been caught dancing to my own drummer in various places in and around Happy Cow.
I had my annual visit with the endocrinologist. I haven’t made what seems like a whole lot of progress this year in terms of weight loss. I lost seven pounds, most of that in the last two months. I have a lot of work yet to do on this front. My health and overall well being are worth it.
A garden variety of thoughts passed through my mind as I travelled down and back. I often thought about my work and remember I once had a life until I let my job eat it.
I don’t play well with others. I’d just as soon be left alone to practice my craft, not continually deal with interruptions. Growing up on a farm in the Midwest, we just got up and did what we needed to do. Not much needed to be said and over the years, my Dad and I could look at each other and know just what we needed to do to get the task done.
I tend to do emotionally better when I’m doing something. Cleaning some mess off the floor, knocking out some of the backlog of paperwork my job has become, or completing a workout. I often find myself just stopping because the mountain of paper, mess, etc just seems too much. It has taken time to get to that point; it’ll take time to get out. There are days where simply getting up is the challenge.
Transitioning is not a sprint, but is more like a marathon, especially when done later on in life. It simply takes time to learn new ways, discard unneeded ones and adapt what you can.
Things have definitely changed. I’m no longer unhinged by people’s negative reactions for the most part. I’ve been referred to as an “it”, “freak”, have had a person who works at the clinic tell me that they didn’t want to talk to me, but to my assistant about a patient who refused to come into the rehab clinic because I was “different”
It would have been easier to be “gay.” It’s just that I couldn’t relate to folk in that manner or to women as a male. I would have saved much cash, along with not having to essentially tear my life apart only to need rebuilding it.
I simply grew weary of being a basket case attempting to hold it in and myself together.
I remain alone for the most part and more often than not, find myself looking in, even when surrounded by a group of friends. I simply remain quiet, learn what I can and move forward from there. I don’t try to cause scenes.
Not a whole lot of change to speak of.
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