Each day seems filled with emotional peaks and valleys that happen so swiftly, I can’t blink or I end up gasping for air. Vulgarity and dark humor are the last defense of a desperately caring soul.

Am I really misfiring? That’s a question. Or, am I healthily reacting to the stimuli in my environment. I can’t tell. No one will look me in the eye and hold a conversation. No, I’m not being dramatic. Every time I try to hold a conversation of philosophy and contemplation, with even very dear friends, it doesn’t often happen. I am The Fool.

Is this a hidden price of being connected to community? Love is the gift, death is the price and they’re part of our cycle. Because I have worked so hard, and over so many years, I have built up many connections. I’m an ambivert, but I was (am?) terribly ambitious. My mother always said, “Reach for the stars.”  and “Focus on what the goal is. Just paint the picture you want and work towards that.” And, unfortunately, I listened to her. The cognitive dissonance of what I see and how loud doors slam in my face when I talk about it. I haven’t let anxiety stop me, yet, but it’s sure a pain in the ass to have to appear cool, calm, collected, cheerful and professional with your heart trying to rip itself to shreds. I am, unfortunately, consummately good at playing ‘okay’. Or. Maybe people have shell-shock and are all in the same place, emotionally. I would call that a problem.

Is this part of the process when your partner is sexually transitioning? I have to ask, because, my friends, I don’t know and my central nervous system is starting to short circuit. I can figuratively smell it cooking. Things have been…unpleasant…in my relationship over the last year. We’ve been acknowledging the damage, dancing around it, pushing it into corners and it’s finally had enough. I’m very tired.

There have been deaths of a few family members. I’m sure that’s relevant, though I am strangely zen about death.

In this singular moment, I am separated from my emotional ties. That’s the balance.


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