seriously, i am getting very bored of people telling me that i will be fine. i can appreciate that it probably makes me sound very ungrateful, but it isn’t something i need to hear right now. i know i’m going to be fine. however, i’m still due to have major surgery in one and a half weeks on the other side of the world. no matter how many times i am told that i will be fine, and no matter how deeply i know that myself, i am still going to be feeling a maelstrom of confused emotions. not to mention the huge dollop of anxiety that is wrapped around my head, which feels like something inbetween a wet towel and a gigantic smush of squirty cream. i can’t help that fact, and being told i will be fine is the emotional pacification equivalent of blowing smoke rings at a desk fan.
hey, plus, get this, i feel kinda guilty that i’m not writing a formal SRS diary. i feel like i’m somehow letting myself down by not documenting every in and out about it. i somehow feel of slightly lowered worth because i don’t have any impasioned insights to expound or amusing anecdotes to deliver. instead, right now, i have this:
got up, had toast, dicked about online, had a bath in lots of bubbles, got clean, went to hospital, was told that i’m going to be referred to a local endocrinologist FINALLY, and the got told that i’d have to spend £50 to get my MRI results.
oh yeah. i need endocrinology and i might need the MRI scans. not right now for the operation, but eventually. that’s another incidental story though. so, moving on, i……
………..did recycling, came home, ripped CDs and stuck them on my mp3 player, reserved seats on the plane, had a panini on the beach, went and did some recording with my current musical mentor, did more recycling, photocopied all my important documents, came home, made a couple of videos and got a reply from HCW stating that they were not going to compensate me for surgical costs and played some guitar and looked at earphones online and took a whole bunch of pictures and tidied up and dicked about with my camera and wrote this. boring.
where getting the operation is concerned there is just nothing to say apart from,
ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod, this time next week i’ll have taken the fucking laxatives, ohmygodohmygod
and, really, after a few days of that you’re going to be bored.
love xx
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September 14, 2007 at 1:30 pm
cigfran
the best transition journals are the most honest, not the most self-conscious. it’s still something of a mystery for most people, and the more that it’s described plainly, realistically, direct from behind the eyeballs, the less exotic and bizarre it becomes.
just write what you feel like writing, when you feel like writing it. there’s no external pressure. what comes is what’s real, and the differences in what makes it real for you, for me, for anyone else, are what makes it human.
and i know you know you’ll be fine… but oh yes… i empathize (at second hand) with that unshakable apprehension. ’tis big shit.