Boy oh boy, it’s been a crazy few
days weeks months. A whirlwind of psychiatrist appointments, medical tests (five blood tests this week! Two needles, five vials of my precious, delicious blood), ECGs, X-Rays, paperwork, employment stuff. I am exhausted. But I’m also winning, so that’s good. Life, you will not beat me. Go suck a bag of soggy dicks.
Needless to say, I haven’t exactly been working all that much. Not on the stuff I care about, at least. I want to, but… well, I have precious little energy right now, and I need to conserve what I can. But I can’t shut off my brain, and I’m always thinking about what I want to be working on.
To bring you up to speed, my surgery, the surgery, is happening around five weeks from now. Which of course means I need to start paying for things, filling out forms, taking all the tests I mentioned above… I’m a little stressed. And a lot nervous. This whole process is going to be very intense, and the recovery period is going to suck, and I cannot help but imagine and extrapolate a life based on every possible complication or thing that could go wrong. Not that I’m not being positive, just… well, I can’t help but think about all the different ways things can do, and even a best case scenario isn’t exactly going to be fun.
But hey, some deep-seated, unshakeable part of my brain is telling me my body is in need of a vagina, and my rational brain is thinking about all the little ways it’ll make so many things different, and sometimes even better. I want this, I need this, and it is well worth every second of doubt, stress and nervousness. I will get back to you afterward on whether it’s worth the pain and recovery, but I’m guessing yes. Otherwise why the hell would I even be going forward with it?
Sometimes I feel like the only thing I ever talk about, or think about, is this damn surgery. I worry that people are sick of dealing with it, or perceive me as being too focussed on it, obsessed, and maybe that makes me less approachable, less welcome, less fun. Maybe they don’t! My friends are all wonderful, amazing and supportive, so they’re probably reading this and going “Naw, Snow, this is a big deal! And we are here for you <3” and that’s great! They are good people, even if they don’t say or think that. But regardless of what they think, I think that about myself. I am so frustrated that it’s such a huge, all-consuming part of my life, when it really feels like it shouldn’t be. Like, it’s genitals. I don’t give a shit about genitals! They don’t define me or anyone else. And even if I felt like they did, it shouldn’t be the entirety of my existence, right? I’ve gotten along this far without the surgery, I’ll go on in much the same way afterwards, so what’s the big deal?
I still don’t really know. Maybe when it’s all over, things will be different. I’ll be able to focus on the rest of my life, my work, my relationships, my home, undiminished by this overarching shadow that exists now. Maybe I’ll start to feel like a ‘normal’ person, whatever that feels like. Maybe I’ll get to experience life the way everyone else does, for better or for worse. Who knows? Maybe there’ll be something else for me to obsess over, or maybe my brain will find a way to keep obsessing over the same bloody thing.
My head keeps going around in circles. Thoughts begin, drift off, disappear, replaced as my consciousness returns to the same vague concepts that seem to replace any sort of specific thought or idea. I can’t focus on anything for long. I can’t care too much about anything, invest in anything, I don’t even ever want to do anything. I’ll just sit and stare blankly at nothing for extended periods of time, my brain absently churning through the same random shapes and colours and fragmented sentences and replaying irrelevant memories.
Well, that could be a lot of things, I suppose. Depression, brain chemicals, being overloaded, some kind of malicious illness slowly eating my brain. Maybe my mental capacity is just reducing constantly. Maybe I’m mentally ill. Don’t know, don’t want to think about it right now.
Anyway, don’t worry about me! I’m okay, and I’m in very good hands, and I’m looking forward to the future. I just needed to sit in front of a keyboard and let whatever was on my mind dribble out. Now I have, at least for now.