Yesterday… got away from me.
Or, I guess, yesterday I got away from myself.
I was fine, which is always how it starts, right? I was fine, I was fine, hello, how are you, what are you drinking today, would you like a blueberry muffin, okay have a great day.
I was fine.
And then, walking home in the sunshine, a cold brew in one hand, a lemonade in the other, and a sea salt chocolate chip cookie in my pocket… I wasn’t fine.
It’s a flare up, I guess, we should call it, like with any disease. All the old, classic symptoms, all the familiar cruel voices:
You’re a failure, you’re a loser, you should just give up now, what are you doing working at a coffee shop, you’re a disappointment to everyone, you’re not trans enough, you’re a coward, i hate you, i hate you, i hate you.
And I am grateful to have had enough therapy now that I can recognize these lies even though they still hurt. Even though I still get angry and sad and twisted up in my guts.
I got home and I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to be anywhere anymore, which is always a scary thought-path to follow. So, I forced myself to think of anywhere I wanted to go. Anywhere.
My mom mentioned last week how lovely Unicoi State Park in North Georgia is, so, sipping my lemonade and scarfing down my cookie, I made myself a little baby reservation for next Tuesday through Thursday.
I’m going to look at a lake soon.
So, it’s worth hanging on.
I guess my point is this: You’re doing great. Find a lake.