No, not that plastron of a body that was a dissimulation, long since refitted, long since confined to oblivion, much like an undulation; thunderclapping the quinta with brutality, then evanescing returning back to which it came. Here, thankfully reverting to my superincumbent, autochthonous female form.
But this is less about me (or me against my body). This about missing someone in my life. I transitioned in mid June this year, and I couldn't have been happier to do so. In fact, I didn't expect to do so until another 2 days, but hormones worked well enough, and it was all good on my end. I love that I transitioned. Life has gone so well, new pathways coming up, and SRS is possibly happening this summer if something goes extremely well for me this week. However, I had a terrible semester, which has brought me down, and it is for the reason that follows.
On July 21st, 2013, my father passed away, completely unexpectedly. He was only 58, and I am only 21 (let alone my sisters, 10 or under). He was amazingly supportive of me (and anyone who transitioned), in every possible way, noting how much happier I was with hormones, or once he saw me really effloresce. My mother was truly in love too, he was her soul mate, and I had someone who I could talk with, with respect to intellectual matters, modern events, or really anything. I feel like I lost my best friend. My mother cries a lot, thankfully for her sake not as much as before, but my crying has only increased lately. I miss him terribly so, and while I know he still loves me, and maybe he'll make the great event possible in my life, I wish he was still around, so I could hug him, tell him how much I miss him, and I feel I could talk about things intelligently...I don't have that now in my life. He understood my background, my politics, and while we disagreed, he knew so much about them, I never minded-and it made my perspective stronger, to know both sides of the coin. Not to mention, he was loving...so much. I was so stupidly afraid to tell him I that I was/am female...that was the dumbest thought that ever crossed my mind. I couldn't ask for anything more out of him, but a longer life. I feel too much like David in Kubrick and Spielberg's A.I., towards the end of that film...I want my Monica back for one last day.
I've teared up while writing this. I just don't know what to do anymore. It's impacted me so much that my grades are no longer outstanding, and made a huge void in my life. I want to help my family, but it doesn't seem possible. I can't help myself, and this has become a terrible cycle for everyone involved. I just need some support, help, and advice. I'm safe myself, just in a terrible, terrible place with all this. Please...help.
I'd be so thankful if he made the event happen this week that basically would give me a 50% shot at SRS within the year...I hope so. Aside from the funds, it would make me quite happy, for just how I would get it. If it happens, I'll keep you updated on that front.
Thanks for reading this diatribe. I really, truly, beyond words, do appreciate it. Bless you if you have, and can leave a response/help me.
~Jessica
