dariaphoebe: (redhead)
I bet I seem pretty boring these days. I know I feel it sometimes. Remember when you'd find me at a concert, or when I went out to take train pictures? Not all that long ago, was it...

I'm still the same person I was. I still like the same things I did before. And I still do them, when I can. So why is it you always only ever see me talking about gender anymore?

I mused about this very thing even as I biked under the railroad tracks and the adjacent buses-only highway upon starting my journey back into the city after my appointment. Even as I wished a train might come by, i knew I had naught but a cellphone on my person to snap a photo, and no ability to follow it.

I always talk about gender because I don't have the luxury of not thinking about it. Take those train pictures, for instance. The car went with the marriage that ended because I had to, and did, face the issues I had with my own gender. I can push my bike -- one that's not very fast -- to maybe 15 mph. That means I get one shot. There's no following along. It also means I need to haul whatever photography gear I wish on my person.

The car was hardly the only thing. The other vectors of instability in my life couldn't be laid fully at the feet of simply being myself, but at the same time I couldn't discount that it was a factor. Then there was the appointment I'd come from, preparatory work for the surgery I worked hard to get myself in line for before discovering I had no way to actually pay for it. I didn't have the ability to simply put it out of my mind. So, despite what the day had wrought, I continued moving feebly along the path to that treatment.

No train appeared, and I had a wee bit of relief knowing I wouldn't have reason to kick myself for the picture I missed. Perhaps another day soon, I told myself. Maybe I'd even be lucky enough find someone to join me for an afternoon of it.
dariaphoebe: (redhead)
As we drove home, I saw something which reminded me how much I loved fall. It didn't even make enough of an impression for me to remember what I saw, but it served as a trigger. This fall felt sort of hollow.

Usually fall included a trip into the ridges east of the city during the season when the leaves change, with pictures of trains and a ride on a steam railroad which nominally went defunct 15 years before I was born but had stuck around on the verge of becoming a national park or some similar level of preserved attraction for the whole of my life without ever quite making it.

This year, I hadn't gotten that trip in. My life was not to blame: with business off, they hadn't operated in 2014. At all. This was not the fall I signed up for. I mused about the power of triggers, that perhaps Christmas stopped being what it was when I stopped having the annual road trip of out-of-the-way hobby shops with my brother. I wondered what else I'd lost because the associations that made them what they are got lost. On sharing that concern in therapy came an answer which was obvious in principle if not in practical ability: perhaps it is time to make new traditions.

Step 94: Discover and cherish the things that make your favorite times and places matter so much to you; The only way you will recognize and be able to fill the holes in your life is if you understand what used to be in them.


dariaphoebe: (Default)

May 2017

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