July 4, 2018.
I have been scribbling blog posts on legal pads, which doesn’t get them out to you.
It’s the Fourth of July and I’ve been at home alone all day drinking wine spritzers. I vowed to stay off the internet but I didn’t. I vowed to not watch Netflix but I have been. I’m actually a little drunk right now.
My apartment is still very clean (!!) and I’ve been writing one or two chapters a week. I’ve been working my ass off at work. I’ve been in audition mode. I went in last Saturday and Sunday to really hustle on a special project from corporate. I went from there to detention center protests and then back to the office again.
When I mentioned in a tweet reply that I just want to take some downtime for myself on the Fourth of July someone commented “you should do more for trans people.” Anyway, here I am drunk on wine spritzers and doing nothing at all for trans people.
My goals to not be avoidant and to eat well have been real scattershot. My weight really seems to have made the 180s its home. And I’ve been watching a lot of TV. Last night I sat outside Ben & Jerry’s and ate a waffle cone. They have this flavor called The Tonight Dough. It’s like this suped-up cookie dough flavor. It was a total bomb of all plans. After I ate it I sat there and typed out a chapter on my laptop. The lake was across the street. It was a beautiful evening. I was not in bed watching TV.
One step forward, two steps back. Or vice versa. Who knows.
I went to a first therapy appointment last week. While I was there I made another appointment but afterwards I decided to cancel it and go back to the drawing board. She just seemed so young and cheerful. I felt like I was looking for spiritual guidance from some sad old wise person. But today now that I’m drunk, I decided not to cancel the next appointment. Maybe I need to stop fronting and be honest about what I need and see what she’s like after that. Maybe I’VE been acting young and cheery. Sort of funny, entertaining, super on top of shit, the kid sitting down at the front of the class, teacher’s pet, keeping it light.
Yesterday I had this feeling walking to the drugstore. It was a summer-time, bare-shouldered, sandaled feeling. I felt aware of beauty and not separate from it. It was missing the vain, youthful, sexualized feeling I had in younger summers, when I felt luscious myself and happy just to have a luscious backdrop. No, it’s not that anymore. Whatever it is now, it’s a road map. Something to be cultivated.
Last night, for the second night in a row, I stayed up until one in the morning binge-watching Grey’s Anatomy. It’s been stoking my hypochondria and making me lie awake afterward thinking about cancer, accidents, and the passage of time. It’s also a total outsourcing of my emotions. Oh god, the ugly crying. It’s avoidant in the exact way I told myself I wouldn’t be. Last night when I finished the last episode of Season 14, I flipped back and watched the first ten minutes of Season 1, episode 1. Whoa, what a mind fuck. We are getting old. Our bodies are failing. Our parents will start slipping over the edge soon. We won’t be able to hold them.
Stay tuned for a future post about how I’m a terrible aunt.
God bless America.
I had photos to go with this blog post but i seem to have lost my phone somewhere in my tiny studio apartment.
Lil is a writer and editor in Seattle. Her writing on comics, books, and life has appeared in Paste Magazine, STACKEDD, Newsarama, Panel Patter, The Wind-Up Books Chronicle, Mining Transport, the only way out is through (TOWOIT), and The Naive Review. She's also started posting some essays more cleanly at Medium, now that she's cluttered up her Wordpress blog with angry bulleted lists, White House briefing transcripts, and so many screenshots of tweets. Twitter is @lilwould.