It's hard to believe that tomorrow is already Friday.
Last week it felt like the week dragged on and on. Either the days were exhausting, hurried affairs that left me exhausted and drained, or mind-numbingly slow and grueling. When Friday came, I made it a point to enjoy that simple fact. When I went home that day I would be able to sleep in the following morning. That I could spend the day doing "non-revenue generating activities".
Last Saturday I spent the day utterly exhausted. I made pancakes for breakfast and had a nice Skype call with my Fiancee. Pazi and I went out to lunch and ran a short handful of errands. Instead of driving out to a friend's for the evening, we decided to stay in. We were both very, very tired after such a stressful week, and not feeling altogether well. I didn't like canceling our plans, but it really did seem for the best.
I don't take the best care of myself. I push myself too hard and do not give myself adequate recovery time. I'm a workaholic and it can affect my health when things grow busy. Deciding to stay home that evening and not to push myself went against my typical behavior.
I've justified my pushing before. I put my sense of self of the line because my sense of self was on the line. GRS was what I felt I needed to move on with my life. The internalized sense of shame and constant undercurrent of stress restrained and confined me in all manners of subtle ways. Individually, those ways might be easy to dismiss, but collectively it was a torrent.
For now, I licking my wounds. Emotional, physical, financial. Surgery cannot undo a lifetime of stress and pain. Nor can its aftermath undo the ten-thousand additional cuts endured in order to get to surgery. It might not even leave you as rigidly gendered as you were before.
Tomorrow, I plan to wear jeans to work. While you might not think this is anything of significance, what you probably do not know is that this will be the second time I have done so since I was hired in 2005. Skirts have been de rigeur of my professional wardrobe. I felt more professional in them, more comfortable, and more sure of myself for it. Skirts can hide all sorts of embarrassing details as well.
The first time I wore jeans to the office, I drew immediate looks of surprise from my coworkers. One made a point to comment how good I looked in them and suggested I should do this more often. I couldn't help but smile sheepishly. So, they actually noticed all those years, I thought. It didn't take longer for them to notice that I wasn't wearing my black leather clogs as usual, but a pair of military boots. Combined with my thick, open skeleton wristwatch I must of cut a rather butch figure.
Tomorrow I plan a repeat performance.