Liam

 

Walking out to my van to pick up a Stewart’s coffee this morning, frosty leaves crunched under my feet and I thought about how three and a half months ago, the summer heat would be mostly unfelt while I was to be stuck indoors healing from surgery. In all that time of rest, I didn’t have much energy or head space to type out what it was like. Now I have a day off from work and I am ready to reflect. July 26. Caiius, Katelyn, and my sister Sarah gathered at my apartment before noon to accompany me on my drive to Northway Surgery and Pain Center. As I left my building, two of my neighbors were sitting on the shared porch, mother and daughter. Kathy asked, “Is it your birthday? We saw your sister carrying a gift bag.” “Yes. Well, sort of a birthday. I am having surgery today.” I felt nervous about sharing the details (and didn’t), because Kathy’s daughter had surgery to remove breast cancer earlier in the year. Their faces changed to concern and I heard one of them say “I’m sorry.” I smil...

Hiding was easy. I hid it so well from myself, but it peeked out in small ways throughout my life. A “sir” or “buddy” or “dude” from strangers who addressed me from behind or afar in various scenarios often gave me a happy feeling. The little kid in me who insisted to my closest people that I was a boy felt seen. It didn’t take long to bury it deep under the name-calling, the invalidating, the physical punishment from family members, being told God made me a girl and if I say I am a boy, I’m calling God a liar and that’s unforgivable (aka, eternal damnation). It was so easy to bury it. Sitting on a train with my boyfriend in high school and seeing someone with a feminine physique and a short haircut, I pointed her out and said, “I want a haircut like that.” His response was, “I don’t want people to think I’m dating a boy.” I wore dresses at church and fancy events, trying to fit in. It wasn’t hard. Where I could get away with it, I wore boyish clothes and straightened my long hair and ...

Getting closer to the window Means getting closer to the sun  I still have hills to climb Before I can learn this lesson That there is no meaning behind what happened But it meant something to me Maybe you’ll ask Why couldn’t I be more direct But my body has frozen And my memories are flickering Behind my eyes  Like old forgotten, trimmed off bits Maybe I’m the idiot I’ll say it twice for your approval And go right back to being absent  Sucked into my phone I’m absent Chewing on something I can’t talk about Seeing you stuck under sheets For weeks in a row in a row a row We rowed around with mushrooms And the lights around were flickering  I miss the laughs oh so much  Oh, I cried so much I have to do this alone The window was left open for me The closer to the window The closer to the sun I won’t walk, I’ll run Then I’ll pace myself because I can’t gauge the distance And I have to reserve my energy I’ll see many more other sides I’m sure Before my time is come M...

  I have a date for the procedure! It’s July 26 this year! Joy joy joy!

Met with a local surgeon yesterday. I’m guessing the paint colors of the waiting room and offices were from Behr, maybe “Snowfall White” on the walls and “Pure White” on the woodwork because the trim is a bit cooler in tone, and kind of a gray in comparison to the wall. The furniture was slick - whites, grays, blacks, and accents of green from some tall, decorative plants. There were throw pillows. Clientele passing through mostly had black tights, cropped jackets, and blond streaks. The women behind the counter were warm and accommodating. I was given a coffee while I waited. My body was in pacing mode all morning and I had lots of questions prepared for asking. There were so many ways this visit could have gone. Leaving the office, my body was lighter and I couldn’t peel the smile off of my face. I’m at a place now where all I have to do is set a date and raise the funds. I plan to ask for help from friends and the social media world with this part. More on that soon.. Next week, I h...

Since moving to Troy almost a year ago, I’ve had a rocky time getting my painting business off the ground. Word of mouth from close by relatives helped me stay afloat financially, and having the ability to schedule some projects from longtime clients in MA definitely helped, too. Traveling for work has proven to not be so practical, since I’ve got three cats to make sure are fed and snuggled while I’m away. While the promise of a paycheck is comforting, I’ve also noticed that being in certain areas of my old stomping grounds brings out some sadness in me that can last for weeks after I return to my new home.  In the year leading up to my relocation, so much had changed in my life, I couldn’t find any sense of confidence in my career, even with as many years of experience as I have and even with the solid reputation I’d built with clientele. I was abandoned by some of my closest friends who I was reminded of on a daily basis, some of whom were my connection to certain clients. I cou...