Goodbye support group

I am leaving Massachusetts again. For many reasons I now live in a van and stay where it is warm. This should be the first year I am able to spend the entire winter in the south, ideally never touching cold weather at all. I am very excited to get back on the road. I have many people across the east coast whom I care about, there are so many places I would like to see, and I find the pressures to stay away from digital life a peaceful feeling. I did not expect to spend so much time in MA this year but I am glad I did, and in some ways, I am sad to be leaving.

I learned so much from the people I have connected with. I have felt new feelings and learned how to process them. I was pushed to step in ways I wasn't prepared for. And I am so greatful to all those who have stood with me and watched the days role by. I will miss you.

I love the trans community, in ways we find it too cliche to allow cis people to claim.

I love it for the foritude, courage, and conviction it takes to make your own terms for life. I say fuck your world, I am going to live in mine. You don't have to live in the cis-het consumerist shameful disconnected digital world that's shoved at us. While I may hope everyone finds their own way into their own world, I have little patience for the cis people who are so resistant. So I focus on my siblings who are hurting so badly from a dissonance that can sometimes take decades to understand. To help them let go of the world our pupetteers have been smothering us with and accept a new world in spite of the shame you think it bears. The shame is not in being trans. The shame is being so afraid of change and freedom you would push others to conform. Fuck shame.

This is why I spent so much time at my local support group. I feel lucky. I found my path to overcoming the majority of my traumas and anxieties. I am not done, but I have done the bulk of the work. I also spent most of my life helping others heal and take great pleasure in watching others transform into happier healthier people.

This process is hard. Remaking your own world. Letting go of previous hopes. Finding any hope amongst a pit of despair. Falling down and getting back up over and over again. It sucks. And I promise you it will always kind of suck.

The silly advice

It became a lot easier for me to transition when I began zooming out on my life and looking at it from a distance. To take a grander shape of my own life and step back from the minutiae of my weekly life. I forced myself to look at my life in terms of the seasons, the moon cycles, the number of weddings I might go to. I began looking at my life in terms of chapters in a book. Which chapter am I reading/writing right now?

What if I tried to plan the next chapter? What if I envision a future version of me who's a little bit farther ahead then me and ask "How did that person get from where I am today to where they are next year?" Work back from the future to find the steps and write it down.

But what good is all that if you can't find any single moment of joy today? While I seem broken now that's not going to stop me from relishing the fact that I'm going to take steps forward. To prevent me from finding joy in as many moments as possible. To laugh at myself when I goof up. I only get to go through this once. And when I look back on it I hope I found a way to smile sometimes.