From irritation to anger to grief to self-pity, the road is never long. My running shoes are worn. Could someone please alter the track? I told the two close friends. They were, of course, shocked, but PC and supportive. everyone is PC and supportive – and grateful it isn’t them.
Is it denial to forget the sadness for awhile and find joy in the moment?
When I first wake up, I forget for a moment that the world has shifted. I am the me three weeks ago when I experienced a moment of deep gratitude that life was pretty smooth and pleasant. “Gotcha!” God said.
The view from the hotel is breathtaking. Sun rising behind me. Meditative walk. Guidance sneaking up. I can’t seem to feel better for long. It’s hard to get past memories of my infant/toddler, adorable little boy, and the realization that for him it was all wrong. I knew he was unhappy so early, but will he really be happier now? Accepted? No guarantee. I believe in process, but it’s strange to think of going shopping with my daughter I never had, discussing hair and make-up. And think of what my husband must be experiencing? Acceptance remains challenging, and I’m struggling with a crisis of faith regarding my Higher Power,
“Never more than we can handle.” Really?
Okay, i lost it at my husband, displacement of the lowest order. We’re booked for a weekend away and he is resistant, “Why do we have to do this?” I went psycho, screaming, throwing things. This was planned long before the news that changed my life. It ended with “Fuck you, I’ll go without you.” I left before I hit him. Good call. When I got back, he was packing, but as it turned out, I probably should have gone by myself. We probably need a break from each other. And from this strange situation.
He doesn’t care who knows it, which is good, because I was upset that I broadcast to the media – and part of the family – too soon. each day gets a little easier, and then not. The short-term goal is to transform grief into gratitude. I had the experience of raising a son. Now I get to have a daughter.
Advertising the blog on FACEBOOK was possibly not the wisest move. So I took it off. So now no one will read it?!!
Is it wrong to want normal Christmas? One more?
Two more close friends to tell about my journey to Hell, and back to my own glorious life. They will be kind. Another friend nailed it. It’s not the quantity of the two-by-fours that hit me. It’s the quality. Fire, murder…and a transgendering child. Well, it ain’t fire and murder. Or ISIS. Thank god for that.
I met with the transgender woman professor, super achiever, who transitioned after years of marriage and a son. They hung in, happy years later. she was so kind, informative, gave me resources, yet I left feeling depressed. Hard to identify. No wife, no grandchild, no son, new daughter, new life that could hold…anything. Maybe I’m learning too much about this stuff. So many very young people do this and it’s an easier transition, it seems, before puberty. Or after there’s a spouse (poor spouse). Here, nothing is known.
A remoteness sets in with time and distance. I had a great weekend, no seismic shifts of emotion. My friend tested him/her, don’t know what she said but he responded by asking her to watch over us during this stressful time. That is certainly new and wonderful behavior. One thing among many i fear is that when some disappointment hits, there will be a crash and his/her new life will seem as as empty as his old.