Not a Good Day

Well, it’s not a bad day, but definitely not a good day. I woke up this morning after dreaming that I was back in my grandparent's house they had when I was a kid, and I was a kid again back in the 80’s. I was talking to my grandfather who died in the mid 80’s. I think I told him about who I was and what was going to happen to him over the next few years. We talked about some other stuff, but I can’t remember exactly what.

The reason I bring this up is that my grandfather made a very unusual comment when I was a kid. My mom and I were talking on the stairs in their house back in the mid 80’s, and my grandfather took a picture of the two of us there. He said we looked like twins. I wondered if he saw any inclination of who I was, but probably he was just making an innocent comment. Either way, I will always remember that moment.

I felt blah at work again today. I’ve been feeling tired, probably from too little sleep and the lingering cold I picked up from the hot/cold situations in San Antonio and Arizona.

I decided to visit the Cocoon House again and say hello to some of the visiting girls. S and P were still there, along with C this time, but all three were without the nose packing. We also visited with E who was so young and small. She was my height and so thin and petite. I’m extremely jealous, but I’m also happy that she is able to live her life from such a young age. I guess 16 extra years of testosterone has just caused my muscles to not give up. I doubt they will ever go away. I also think that the spiro isn’t working as well as it used to because it feels like the testosterone is flowing through my veins in a significant amount again. I don’t know what it is, but it is just this totally blah feeling.

Now usually I only like to write about my own experiences in here. I like to keep this journal as truthful and comprehensive as I can, but I don’t like talking about those that might get upset about the comments I might make.

So, Claire and I went to dinner. We argued. We talked. We disagreed. We agreed. She’s going through some tough times, and I wanted her to know that she’s still a dear friend of mine and I’m going to give it to her as honestly as I can. Transition is hard. It takes everything out of you, and more. It’s so hard focusing on the everyday stuff when GID is ping-ponging around in your brain. I know.

After dropping her off, I drove home. As I was getting out of my car and checking the mail, my handle to the driver’s side door breaks. So now it just flops there and I can’t open the door on that side. That means I need to either take it to the dealer, a shop, or buy the parts at the dealer and do it myself or have a shop do it. I also need to have my front brakes replaced and the transmission fluid changed sometime soon. My car is now 9 years old. I was hoping she would make it a few more years, but I can tell that she is starting to wear out. Hopefully, though, she’ll still be able to provide a few more years of service with the proper maintenance.

Hopefully tomorrow is better.