We went on a two-week trip, the four of us. It was just the right thing.
It’s the longest we’ve gone somewhere together, and the farthest. We shared a small space and wandered around, walked lots of places really fast, slowly checked things out, stopped and ate street food, and teased each other a whole bunch.
Such a wonderful break from all the things. I didn’t keep track of work, and I didn’t wonder if I’d ever get another email from the donor. It was just my family, and it was perfect, if there’s such a thing.
I mean we fought, I had a meltdown or two, trains were missed—the usual. But it was exactly what I needed.
It feels like there is more space now. Right before I left I felt a shift from anger to sadness when thinking about my mom. It’s not better or worse, just room for more.
I got away and I came back.
Not long before our trip, my wise and beloved M gently asked me questions about gender stuff as it relates to my feelings and expectations and desires connected to all of this. I’ve thought about it a lot and have noticed some patterns and themes.
More later.
