The Old Armor and the Missing Patch

I didn’t post the update I planned to write a couple of nights ago. The truth is, my heart has been so shattered lately that writing felt impossible. Grief is heavy, and when it crashes into the middle of a major life transition, it leaves you feeling entirely lost.

Today, the grief and the fear almost won.

I had to go do some plumbing work at my friend’s house. For the first time since I stepped out of the cage, I didn't put on any makeup. Not even the eyeliner and mascara I normally refuse to leave the house without. I didn't take my purse. Instead, I dug and found my old boy clothes. All the way down to the boxer briefs (that I haven't worn in forever) and my Ariat work boots.

For 41 years, that presentation was my cage. But today, when my heart was broken and my world felt entirely unstable, those clothes felt like armor. I slipped back into the disguise because when you are in excruciating pain, your mind desperately reaches for whatever is familiar, whatever will let you hide from the world.

Doing that plumbing job in those clothes, I felt so incredibly confused. The breakup, the stress, the vulnerability of early transition, it all crashed down on me, and I found myself questioning myself and everything I was doing.

But then, tonight happened.

I got out of the shower and realized my estradiol patch had come off. I looked everywhere for my last patch and couldn't find it. And in that moment, all the confusion disappeared, replaced immediately by sheer, terrifying panic. My heart almost stopped at the thought that I was out of my hormones. I tore through my things until I finally found that last patch. The relief that washed over me as I pressed it onto my skin was profound.

Earlier today, I called the pharmacy to order my refills. And tonight, I pressed that patch firmly onto my body.

I am lost right now. I am confused. The heartbreak has shaken the ground beneath my feet. But underneath all of that noise, there are things I know with absolute, unshakable certainty.

I KNOW I am a woman on the inside. That is the undeniable truth that finally pushed me to start this journey after decades of hiding.

I KNOW who I am drawn to, I like men, I like women, but most of all, I love me!

And above all else, I KNOW I am Serenity.

Transitioning isn’t a straight line. Sometimes, when the storm gets too rough, you might reach for your old armor just to survive the day. Slipping on a pair of work boots and boxer briefs to do a plumbing job doesn't erase my womanhood, and it doesn't mean I'm going back into the cage. It just means I am human, and I am hurting.

The armor might have made an appearance today, but the patch is still on. And the refills are called in.

I am still climbing out. Even when it’s messy. Even when I’m scared.

🩵🤍🩷


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