Three Months On
The shit just got deeper.
It is very difficult to write about it without saying anything. I found myself out of my depth in my job, cried out in all directions for help, didn't get it and then found myself, well, here...
I had a meeting with two people: one representing me, the other investigating me. The outcome of those three and a half hours continues to dog me. Minute by minute, hour by hour, my belief in my own abilities and my interpretation of the events that had led to this conversation trickled away. I walked out of the meeting feeling a little shaky but still upbeat (I am incurably optimistic). Everything would work out for the best.
When I transitioned, I achieved something that I would never have believed I could have had: my self. When I dismantled myself, I had to accept that a part of me would be missing. That's where my new career came in: finding fulfilment in my work. And for a year I found utter joy in it. This year has been hell. Utterly awful. When the shitstorm broke, all I could think was "Thank goodness the pain has stopped."
I no longer believe in myself as the professional I thought I had become. I continue to smile, to keep busy, to pursue other opportunities, to talk to friends. But I cannot face stillness, the peace I used to experience in yoga sessions or my Quaker meetings: when I stop moving and smiling and doing, the awful self-doubt settles on me like a suffocating hood. Zopiclone occasionally helps me to sleep, diazepam to function: I eke out a small supply and they serve as comfort blanket, to be used in the direst circumstances.
This sunny morning, as Spring (my favourite season) gets under way, I am in despair. But I will get up, smile and busy myself.