When I came out as trans in 2016 I was sure that I would be completely liberated. That as I started hormones, started living as a woman, started dressing in the black dresses that I’ve wanted to wear since I was a young child that I would be happy. That everything would fix itself: the trauma around my abuse as a child. The guilt I feel as an American (at least I’m not a white man…now I’m a white trans woman). The absolute bereft nature of my depression (how can I be depressed if I’ve achieved everything I’ve ever wanted).
But there isn’t fixing everything. There isn’t being cured of anxiety or depression. There isn’t a magic gold bullet that suddenly fixes your life. There is no fixing your life. There’s just living your life.
Having Sara swing in there with this zinger this morning pulled me out of whatever bullshit depression I’ve been in for the last few days:
Learning to swallow how anticlimactic it turns out absolutely everything is has got to be the secretely hardest part of growing up.
Learning that anticlimactic is often the better outcome is maybe harder.
-Sara Orb-Weaver (Never Angeline North)
Maybe the disappointment and the regret are worth it. Because I can try to go “here I am.” And here I am.