Things are still incredibly busy for me, so I will try to jump in now that I have a few moments to write a quick entry. It's been a crazy day, which started very early for me. I've been running around to a smattering of client meetings, with a doctor's appointment peppered in there mid day. My mind is still racing, as I am hoping not to forget anything urgent, so please forgive me as this might display that sense of distraction I'm feeling now.
I got a call back from one of my best friends that her artistic mentor is dying, and might not make it until Thanksgiving. This famous photographer, with whom she worked closely for many years was just diagnosed with cancer. She was at a loss, as she uttered meekly: "I might not ever see him again." Right.
My heart sank, as I, too, felt at a loss, calculating what would be the right words to say to my heartbroken friend. This artist was more than just her boss – and more than her mentor. And it made me realize the multitude of connections we can share with people. I began to examine my own relationships more closely after reflecting upon her ties to this artist that spanned over a decade.
I think of myself as a loner mostly, hermetically sanctioned off in my bedroom typing away at this project or that, or flying solo throughout my day of work, but it's not that simple. Today alone I had hours worth of quickfire texting and email exchanges with so many people whom I love. Despite being alone – I am not alone. Even if I am the only one within the confines of any given room, or walking by myself, I am beginning to understand the dimensions of these relationships that make me who I am.
When I think of my friend immersed within that sense of preparatory mourning tinged with the horrible anxiety of that awaited phone call – my heart breaks for her. I have been there, and I know that kind of waiting for the inevitable. So urgent, yet so endless.
Honestly, I am in sort of a similar state myself, as my Polish Grandmother who is 99, but claims to be 98, was diagnosed with congestive heart failure over the summer. But she is so old, and her kidneys are so weak that the treatment to assist her heart would plunge her immediately into kidney failure. So, we are waiting it out. Waiting. And I feel like an asshole for not knowing what to say, or how to make myself more emotionally available to my friend and my grandmother. The testosterone has granted me a sense of detachment, which I have sometimes welcomed, but times like now, I fear makes me seem empty and robotic.
I have learned to live without everything I have ever loved. There were two girlfriends I had with whom I wanted to live into eternity, and both of those relationships ended. One of whom I will probably never speak to again. As much as things are better with my family now that they are all using the new name and new gender pronouns, I still don't feel as close I as used to with them. And most of my friendships go through dormant stages, where we seem to drift apart and sometimes drift back together again.
But going through my transition forced me to realize that undeniable truth that we are in this alone. And that any connections that we forge are by choice, and should be revered. I remember growing up and being kind of resentful that my father could seem so detached at times. He didn't appear nearly as upset as I projected when his parents died, or when his younger brother died of complications from AIDS being a heroin addict. But as I am getting older, and as the combination of meds and T settle in, and reset my brain's chemistry, I understand now where his reactions may have been rooted.
Don't get me wrong – I miss people, and I think fondly of those who are no longer in my close vicinity, but it's different now. It's not the same codependent spin, of fearing that I couldn't live without this lover or that friend. (There has been a woman with whom I've gone out on some dates, and she once commented that she wants to find "not a person she can live with, but someone she can not live without...") And I wonder if I sort of envy that kind of desire, and if my luke warm stature will leave me empty hearted. I'm not sure. I don't feel 'lucky' for the absence of the vibrancy I used to know, but the lack of mello-drama is a welcomed change.
All I have to go on is who I miss. That part is clear.
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