So what if us older women carry more baggage, and are less attractive. Who cares? Really, who cares?
I'll briefly explain what happened a couple months ago when my therapist asked me to help another woman my age. We were instant friends, and have constantly been together since, either for shopping or dates to have a quiet meal together. Our lives are incredibly similar, and yet so different. Oh yes, we are both transsexual, and we're very happy in our individual journeys to become the women we always were. So if people don't understand ... "Who cares?"
Love isn't an easy word to use, and we often toss it around meaninglessly or use it without understanding. But when it's in our hearts we "feel" the word and know it's depth. Yes, I've met a woman who cares for me, and I'm beginning to truly love her. And still I'm afraid our lives may separate at some point, yet I'm not walking away from the possibility that this is complete, honest, and true. We may be foolish old ladies, but once again ... "Who cares?"
I can't use her name, but she was crying most of the night and hurting inside. She's been pushed aside by her entire family, and most of her friends, and all I can do is talk to her on the phone and hurt with her. We've both experienced the pain of abandonment, so maybe what we feel inside has more to do with sympathy than love. That may make this whole thing very superficial to outsiders, yet once again ... "Who cares."
We were talking about dating a few months before expanding our relationship, yet we've already done so much more than we ever thought we could. And some people may have a problem with that, but you know what? We don't care.
I so painfully feel for her today, and how she's been hurting during the night ... because ... "I care."
Love, Kathy
