Greetings dear readers, I have very little to share tonight, except to let everyone know that I did, in fact, get the job. Yes, Katgirl is a working girl again [cue: banners, ticker tape parade, and book signing]. My groove is completely thrown. It is good; do not misunderstand. But I forgot what it was like to be new at a job. It has only been over a dozen years since the last time I made a career change, after all.
I really do not want to share much tonight, friends. I am not in a good place. It will pass, and it has nothing to do with the new job – well, not directly. I will be honest; I am scared. I feel alone, and I feel like I just inadvertently pressed a great big pause button on my transition. Again, I know it is a temporary… and a necessary diversion, but wow. Having a few weeks (even if I spent half of them in bed with the plague, half of them realizing what an inconvenience my birthday was for everyone, and the other half – a little Yogi Berra for my friends, you like? – actually enjoying being a housewife) to really feel what life was going to be like for Kate when all the pretense was finally over might not have been the best thing for my short term happiness.
Having the time to be myself, to never hide behind a male mask, and to never have to think about how I would cover something during the week (my bright purple fingernails, for example… have I mentioned that purple is my favorite color? I love all the ways it rhymes with other things... just like me.) was the most amazing experience. Being able to shed the male crap completely was so incredibly freeing. Even for just a few weeks, the experience was enough to convince me of the rightness of my choice. Stop it; I am not being careless with my words. I am a woman who was born with a physical deformity. Others patterned my life around that deformity. I chose to fix it. I did not choose whom I am or how I was born, but I am choosing how to live my life. Sorry, back on my original soapbox: having the opportunity to live correctly was a complete affirmation. But that affirmation brought consequence. Is anyone writing this down? It would make a great musical... Mr. Sondheim?
I have to figure out how to get through the next few months without losing myself in my male mask (or more accurately, without losing hope while wearing my male mask). Worse, I have to figure out how to do that while having no flexibility to engage the resources that are helping me to shed that mask forever. I mean that my work schedule occupies the entirety of normal business hours – the hours during which most of the many services I require to continue working toward my correct life are available to me. I forfeited the flexibility that my old job afforded (not because of the people I worked for, but because of their general incompetence). I have to figure that out. So it is a good news, bad news situation.
The good news is that my career change afforded me the financial freedom to pursue my correct life – including all the funds I need to make the first surgical leap (FFS). The bad news is that my career change usurped my free hours – the hours I need to affect my permanent transition. So, what the hell is a girl to do?
Okay, sorry folks. I said I had very little to share, but I sure did type a bunch. Still, I think I probably succeeded in sharing very little. Weird, well, with luck I will have my groove back someday soon. I miss it.
Peace, my friends.