Welp. This past week was officially the worst since my mom died. Nothing even trans related. Just... life.
Last Friday I was in a moderately bad wreck. I say moderately bad because thankfully no one was injured (though oh my god am I still sore), but both cars were pretty severely damage. I was exhausted, frustrated, and tired, and literally around the corner from my house anxious to get home. In that state I totally missed that I was coming up on an intersection. It's not that I so much ran a red light as I forgot that the intersection existed entirely. And was promptly t-boned. So, my fault. I lucked up in that my car was spared frame or wheel damage, but the passenger side doors were totaled. The other guy's front was a bit screwed up, and was leaking something, he had it worse than I did which I feel horrible about. The whole situation was bad all around. And it got worse when I found out my father had forgotten to renew the registration due to a clerical error (the county didn't send him a notice), as he has yet to transfer the title to me. So. I have citations for both running a red light that caused an accident and also for driving an unregistered vehicle. The car is technically drivable, but the doors are unstable and so it is not something I can really take anywhere unless I want to come back to them ripped off the side and the car stripped. Or worse, have them fly off on the interstate (which ATL is entirely interstate). So I'm carless until they can be fixed. The truly horrible part is... it doesn't matter. My phobia is back. I'm terrified being in a car again.
Which didn't help for this next, far worse (yes, worse again) bit. (This part also explaining why I haven't even called a body shop yet even though its been a week.)
So after the accident I was shaken. My GF came and picked me up and took me to her place for the weekend. We had a good day Saturday, looked at and test drove a new car for her but they were being unreasonable on pricing (she wants to get an SUV or comfortable truck). Did a few other things. I forgot about the wreck a bit. We watched the Haunting of Hill House. Most of it anyway. Then Sunday came. We planned to go to a movie (Bad Times at the El Royale) and then she was going to take me to the meeting for an organization she is a part of, the Pink Pistols. It is an LGBTQ+ gun safety and training advocacy group founded after the Pulse shooting. Everyone has been very positive about it so far. The meeting was at a range, and she had talked me into firing a few rounds. Despite my dad always trying to take me and my brother shooting, I always shied away. I am terrified of guns. But I trust my GF, and wanted to take part in something she was passionate about for her sake. And no, the bad stuff is not gun related. All in all, we were excited for the day.
Then the call came. Her father had passed away suddenly in the middle of the night. I won't go into any of the history of her family, that is her story, but suffice to say we made a stop by my apartment and then hopped on the interstate to drive 2-3 hours to her brothers house at a halfway point. I wasn't sure what to expect, and my GF is between paychecks and some other funds so literally had nothing, so I grabbed the remainder of my cash from selling games before moving. I should mention as well, this is the first time I am meeting her family. So we go down there, her brother is still in shock. I met him, his wife, and my GF's mom. They are all amazing, sweet, and just... god, I love them all already. The next day we head down the rest of the way to my GF's grandfather's house where her dad was staying, deep south Georgia. Not exactly a comfortable place to be visibly trans. So for the following 2 days, Monday and Tuesday, I basically did everything in my power to help out. I cleaned, grabbed groceries, helped out with gas when it was needed, and so on. Meanwhile, my GF is the eldest and was placed in charge of a very volatile situation I won't go into. And so mostly I supported her. Held her. Loved her. Let her cry, tried to (and I'm proud to say succeeded in) making her laugh, and just be there. For my part, I was in a lot of pain dealing with memories of my mom, initially feeling out of place among family dynamics (that passed, her family is amazing), and mostly feeling awkward because somehow I wound up a part of something I didn't feel I had the right to be a part of. Like when walking in for the funeral on Wednesday, I was third in the procession since I was with my GF (who was second behind her grandfather). It felt just plain wrong being ahead of her siblings, and I hesitated when people started to file out, though her brother's wife urged me on so I just ran up and grabbed my GF's hand and went with it. Still, when someone clapped me on the shoulder and said "sorry for your loss" on the way out, I felt like a fraud and usurper to their grief.
I'm skipping a lot of details for the sake of their privacy, but this is the gist. Mostly what has me torn apart is my own personal fallout last night. It sounds stupid and selfish and I hate that these are my concerns while she is still grieving so hard, but I can't just put them aside.
So we got back to Atlanta last night. At this point, we had been together through some very raw and emotional stuff since the previous Friday with my wreck. I asked if she wanted me to stay with her, or what she wanted, and she said she needed some time alone. My goal was and is still to support her and what she needs during this, and I just smiled and assured her it was okay. And it was, and it is. What I'm going through would have happened regardless of the timing, had we split off to our respective apartments last night or after this weekend (for logistical reasons).
So as those of you who follow what I've written here know, this is my first relationship. Throughout I've been plagued by a nagging thread of doubt. "Do I really love her?" "Do I understand what love is?" "Am I pretending? Tricking myself?" and all sorts of terrible thoughts that ultimately culminate in the question of "Am I going to cause her hurt some day?". Last night, as I lay there alone, I put these questions to bed. My feelings were deep. My feelings were real. My feelings were pure, and all doubt that I am falling prey to inexperience, like a lovesick teenager who doesn't know the world, disappeared. This caused something else unexpected. Something... painful. The first component of this was I realized how much I missed her being there with me. How much I needed her to still be there with me... Part of me wanted to text her and beg her to let me come over this weekend or her come over here, but I held myself back reminding myself right now... it's not about me. She is suffering in a way I know all too well, and while we all need to process suffering differently, if I do not respect that then what the hell good is my love? So there I was. Alone in my bed, crying, and trying to stay strong in my own resolve to continue to focus on her needs while she gets through this period. And then it hit me. The opposite of my previous worry of "Am I going to cause her hurt some day?". For the first time ever, I was genuinely in love with someone. I had depths of feelings for someone who wasn't part of my family I had never known. I say that because... family... family is family, they can't really leave you (at least in a way that isn't death itself). They will always be family. They can sure cause pain with their actions, but nothing can change those bonds. But this relationship... it could end one day. She could simply leave me. (Or, I suppose the same is true for me, but that scenario wasn't even on my radar last night.)
I felt afraid. I felt scared. I felt vulnerable. A vulnerability I have never known and don't know how to deal with due to that aforementioned inexperience, even if there is a way to deal with it at all.
Today I have distracted myself. I deep cleaned the stove. I ate food I shouldn't have. I started some complexly prepared slow cooker carnitas. I paid bills. I did anything I could think of. (Well, except school, that I'm putting off for anxiety purposes unrelated...) But yet I sit here, alone in my room. My step-brother is leaving in a few minutes to go to a Friday night thing over an hour the way to play MTG, and won't be back until very late (2am-ish probably). So I won't even have the knowledge at least someone is here even if hibernating in his room.
I'm so lonely, so intensely lonely, and the person I want to be here wants to be alone for the weekend. Which also means I probably won't see her for another week at all because of work logistics, though she said maybe come by Sunday. And I don't dare beg her to be with me, because that goes against everything I promised myself in letting her grieve how she needs to grieve. But in the meanwhile, I don't know what to do. I don't know how to cope, and I can't stop crying.
