comfort zone
writing my thoughts down like this, with room to flesh them out and time to consider what i'm saying, is a surprisingly uncomfortable thing as i start writing this post. i don't want it to be, which is a large part of why i've been considering this blog, but i'm still getting used to the idea of anyone caring about what i might have to say.
i've spent far too much of my life in what i thought was my comfort zone. i didn't want to deal with uncomfortable looks or questions, or even worse - outright rejection. so i made myself smaller and smaller, and spent so much of my energy convincing myself and the people around me that i didn't matter. my desires, my needs, my ideas, were just ways i could open myself up to disappointment or pain. it was easier to just push it all down, to deal with what i could myself and treat anything i couldn't as "not a big deal." even if someone claimed to care, how could i trust that they still would after i'd opened my mouth?
but eventually i made myself so small i didn't have room for air in my lungs.
the moment my egg cracked was frantic, filled with panic. i was terrified, and i told myself it was because i had some idea of the horrors trans women face in our world before i realized i am one, but i think a deeply-buried part of me always knew that this is who i am. what really scared me was the choice i was faced with: to be earnest or die. to have to say "i want this," "i feel this," and "i need this," and mean it down to the last atom. it felt like being naked.
now that i can breathe, though, i can't imagine ever describing what i felt before as "comfortable." at best, i was numb. in 11 months on HRT i've found so much joy and happiness i never knew was possible for me. and finally sharing these parts of myself with people i care about is how i got here.
so maybe this isn't that uncomfortable after all.