Transcen-dance
I’m trying to hang onto the bulwarks of my inner superstructure, lest my entire being flies apart from the inside out… Which is a very convoluted way of saying… I’m… excited. Anxious. Antsie. (Or is Auntsie?) In other words… I’m t-minus four days from the third biggest threshold in my life… namely GCS. Gender Confirming Surgery. For those of you who’ve followed this saga of a woman raised by wolves, you know I’m given to striking metaphors and colorful imagery to describe my inner state, but even this is… well, defying my best efforts to capture in words. But I’m trying. So please forgive me if I jump around in my attempts. The waiting line for GCS is, maybe, by design, a long waiting time – an ad hoc process to weed out anyone who is maybe (and would hugely mistakenly, misguidedly) trying this on a whim. But here’s where maybe won’t cut it, sister. Still, those who are trying to wrap their heads around my life have said to me, with the best ...