We’ve finally made it. Today is the day that Megan and I fly to California. On Tuesday, I will have my GRS. A lot of people have asked how I feel. Excited? Nervous?
Honestly, this past week and a half have been a roller coaster of emotions. With Joey’s suicide and that fallout there, that has been the primary concern. I also had to stop all my hormones about 2 weeks ago, and so I’m sure my attitude and mood have been impacted. On top of all that, I’ve started on antidepressants. Basically, I tried to make things as complicated as possible. Holden fuckin’ McNeil.
But anyway, I’m almost to the finish line of this journey. There were times that I wasn’t sure that I could make it, or that I would. The story is fraught with harassment, discrimination, and hurdles. I’ve sat in my car many mornings and cried.
I have to finish packing, so I have to cut this short, but I hope to do a better entry once we’re in Cali and then one post op.
I’ve been meaning to update for some time. There’s so much happening right now, but it’s all running together at this point. The biggest thing going on right now is the worst thing also.
One of my very best friends committed suicide the other day. I’m finding myself left trying to pick up the pieces left in his wake. Once the initial shock passed, my first and most recurring thought is one of guilt. I think that I could have done more to have prevented this. I feel like we, his friends and I, saw the signs and we did nothing. Or not enough. Because that’s what we do. We act like nothing can ever happen and that everything will sort itself out.
Except it didn’t. My friend is dead. What’s there to sort out now? You can’t undo that. There’s no rewind. It’s all so surreal and odd. Just 30 minutes ago, on my way home from dinner with Megan, we passed his neighborhood…. and it’s just like “now what?”
My second feeling is one of anger. I’m upset with him for making such a drastic choice. While I’ve gathered that his problems were quite large and had snowballed into something with a life of it’s own, there was still a solution that wasn’t so final. A very permanent solution for a temporary problem. I’m mad that he didn’t reach out to anyone before ending his own life.
Of course, the other thing that’s happened is that I’ve been forced to do my own agonizing reappraisal of my own feelings towards depression and suicide. I mean, it’s no secret that I’ve been depressed, off and on, for years. Stressors at work and at home due to my transition have pushed me closer to the brink than ever before. Add in some hormonal mood swings and a couple of crushes and you’re dealing with a potentially lethal cocktail. When you sit in the car with the gun in your lap and just stare at it for 15 minutes and then put it away and go to work, things are not going as well as one might hope.
There’s always something that pulls me back from the edge. Usually my kids. I really can’t fathom intentionally leaving them behind. They’ve already lost their father, they shouldn’t have to lose a parent as well. Also, who would clear my browser history and dispose of my sex toys? (Just kidding, I have a friend who agreed to take care of that for me. Just like Harvey Keitel’s character in Pulp Fiction.)
“That’s thirty minutes away. I’ll be there in ten.” (nine minutes, thirty-seven seconds later)
But most of all, what I’ve come up with in the last two days is that I don’t want to put anyone through what I’m feeling right now. I’m hurt, I’m sad, I’m betrayed, I’m just scrambled eggs. I couldn’t bare the thought of my wife finding me, or my children. I wouldn’t want them to have to deal with all the emotions and the heartache. I feel like since starting hormones, I cry so much more than I ever have in my life and the last few days has had the volume turned up past the point of distortion. My eyes are tired and my cheeks are dried out from the tears and the constant wiping.
