for 20 years I’ve had a terrible worm eating my guts. eating time, potential, love. Shaking & screaming, watching my own life from the back seat, no one driving.
until I came out last week. thrashing and biting slowed down and stopped. It starved because it lost its food source. The worm is dead
my insides are still wounded & covered with deep scratches and bites.
systems are fucked and out of healthy coordination. I still naturally move and tilt my head in ways to avoid eye contact in the mirror without making a conscious effort.
I will for a while yet. That much shame and fear in your system leaves serious lasting damage.
It is going to take time to heal. But I will.
It’s going to take time to be happier too, but I’m already feeling more of that today than I have in 20 years. And so I know I’m going to make it happen.
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until I came out last week. thrashing and biting slowed down and stopped. It starved because it lost its food source. The worm is dead
systems are fucked and out of healthy coordination. I still naturally move and tilt my head in ways to avoid eye contact in the mirror without making a conscious effort.
It is going to take time to heal. But I will.
It’s going to take time to be happier too, but I’m already feeling more of that today than I have in 20 years. And so I know I’m going to make it happen.
For now I’m grateful and a bit in awe of this quiet space left behind by that vicious, gnawing fear of telling everyone I’m a girl.
what goes in its place?
Is this where people put hobbies, art, and expression? Is this where they put themselves?