"The unexamined life is not worth living" Socrates

- - scatterings of ideas sent to my younger self, a sensitive girl who was fooled into believing she was a boy because of anatomy - -

Friday, 8 September 2017

Rebirth

As I write this, I am doing something I really don't enjoy; sucking on a cough drop. I do it for a very practical reason. Coughing right now (and for the past three days) is really painful in a non-productive way. Let me explain.

On Tuesday, the good doctor and his surgical team did what they could to create a physical world for me that genetics could not. Using the material at hand and their extensive understanding of how the body works, they set me on a path. That is all they could do. 

I am now adrift in this new world. 

It is amazing how a Truth will turn on you if you are not careful.


It is not the world you see, but how you see the world that matters.

This world I am now in is one of new sensations and most of them are painful. They are improving. I could choose to view these only as a bad thing to be endured or something else much more useful and appropriate to my situation and the choices I've made. 

In a very real sense, there is a birth happening here. Birth, as we know, is wonderful and, at the same time, incredibly uncomfortable. 

A girlfriend my age texted me:  "How do you like being a girl now? Lol... Seriously.... hope you're not hurting too much."
And my reply to her:  "Did anyone ask you that moments after you gave birth?" Her reply was to laugh herself silly. 

This birth is happening in slow motion. I can tell that there are beautiful new parts of my body that I will soon have to care for religiously. This is what I have. This is what I want. Getting upset at the painful sensations is to miss the messages those body parts are sending. "I am here. I am alive and I'm letting you know I can feel things."

I am trying to avoid the kinds of pain that are repetitious and annoying (thus the cough drop ...). Of course, I am anxious to be done with this birthing process but, at the same time, I'm leaning into the pain so that I miss nothing. 

This is a miracle, after all.