I decided to straighten up the basement. I tend to do magical thinking in that I think perhaps if I straighten the house that my life will get straightened, too. It's like if I get my house in order literally perhaps I'll get my house in order figuratively.
I was doing pretty well until I looked inside a closet down there. Six feet of *his* clothes hanging across the closet. Huh?

Where'd all that come from? I thought I had gotten rid of all his clothes when I first became Kate. It was like I'd driven a stake in his heart but didn't get it in far enough.
Nothing for it but to start folding everything for a trip to the resale store. But it kept getting harder. Folding the clothes was almost like dressing a body for burial. I kind of liked the old guy. I didn't want to kill him off; I just wanted him to move out-of-state and perhaps write me a letter once in a while to let me know he's OK.
When I got to a shirt that I had
loved but couldn't use as Kate, I just sat down and started bawling.
D***!

I go sailing along without a care in the world, overjoyed to be Kate and *BAM* I hit a tripwire.
I'm sorry to always post these whining posts, but why is this so hard? [Rhetorical question.] Yeah, I'll finish the closet after a glass of wine (and whine).
I guess getting rid of the clothes is hard because I don't want to get rid of the past. When I was *him* I would cry that I just wanted balance. Now that I'm Kate – and thrilled – I just want to somehow balance my past with my present.
It's all about achieving balance. Thanks for listening. I'm starting to calm down.

- Kate