Bittersweet

Flavors swirling, catching, changing

Experiences developing, immutable yet ranging

Dry eyes, full of scorn

Tears drip, newly borne

 

Bittersweet is the wine of life

poured carelessly, barely tasted

lovingly bottled, preserved, and rife

Enjoyed, hated, protected, wasted

 

Decanter open, smells unleashed

proudly displayed, ashamedly fleeced

bad vintage, bad year, faultless, fear

tended, cared, loved so near.

 

The sweet taste of joy

I don’t even know how to title this post. I want to take a chance to talk about mixed feelings. Transitioning has been in many ways very difficult and scary, and in other ways one of the mot rewarding and fulfilling things I’ve ever done.

What I need to do a better job of expressing, especially to myself, is the joy and contentment I feel by feeling like myself. It’s odd how the better I feel the more obvious the bad feelings are. When I was miserable and in the closet I was fairly even keeled. Now I’m all over the place emotionally, and I couldn’t be happier about that fact.

It’s become difficult to be a moderate person, to feel moderately, live moderately. Sometimes I feel like a kid with incredible swings in mood, though I know they’re not very big to most people.

I never thought sadness could make me happy. I had never experienced happy crying, I had never been happy to cry. Yet, I have learned to embrace and love the lows as much as the highs. As winters chill makes summers warmth so enticing, so too does sadness’ cold embrace make the warmth of laughter and joy all the richer.

I have a brain that likes to think and I let it run away from me sometimes (all the time) but in my heart when my head is quiet, I can hear the gentle song of joy hanging in the air.

Am I too comfortable being uncomfortable?

I had a really awkward conversation with one of the partners last week, it lasted nearly two hours. He was circling around a question he couldn’t form, and I have given too much brain space to trying to understand his point. Throughout the entire conversation I was trying to help him get to whatever point he wanted to make, and I don’t want to say opened up, but felt as if I had to give up details about myself I didn’t feel comfortable with.

In the moment though, it didn’t feel bad, it just seemed like the necessary thing to do. When recounting the story later to a few co-workers they were shocked at the few actual questions my boss had managed to get out.

He asked if I wear a bra, and I answered, not knowing what to do. But is my self-worth so low, or am I so beaten down by my experiences that I have lost the ability to protect myself. or hold anything sacred about myself.

My journey so far has been rough and has involved a lot of soul crushing experiences. Have I become so traumatized by it that I don’t even notice anymore when my basic dignity is being attacked?

I understand some people find the pronoun/name thing difficult, but I find myself bending over backwards at times just to get the smallest effort from those around me. I’m willing to tear myself open and offer whatever I have in the hopes that a little more understanding will get someone to respect me.

I’m beginning to question that plan. I’ve tried to be helpful, and I’ve tried to be supportive of the change I’m asking people to make, but I think I need to realize its not a change I’m asking people to make. I’m just asking for so courtesy and respect.

I am enough, and I should let myself be enough, and I should expect others to treat me as enough.