Act III

I can’t decide if I’ve been more thoughtful (which is generally good) or if I’ve been overthinking (which is generally not good) more than usual lately. Some readers have emailed asking if I am okay.

Which is very sweet! Thank you! But rest assured I am very well.

Sometimes I forget that what I write or think about can be interpreted by someone else (and sometimes I forget that someone else will read what I write). Most of what I think about is simply that: something I thought about. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. You should hear some of the things I think about that I don’t tell you. Everything is random.

The other day I heard a beautiful lyric that I thought would be the perfect prose carved on my headstone.

It’s the last day’s last hour
Of the last happy year
I feel that the unknown world is so near
Pride will vanish
And glory will rot
But virtue lives
And cannot be forgot

-Bob Dylan

This, of course, would likely raise one’s eyebrow. Like, why am I thinking about my gravestone marker? Well, I’m not. I just heard the lyric and thought it was poignant and reflective and reassuring. Knowing me, I will likely hear another fitting lyric for my headstone in a few days.

But I am kinda sorta thinking about death a lot lately. However, I think it’s more about being reflective of my life. I have a good life. I had a good life. God willing the rest of my days will be peaceful.

In my male life I had One Goal. I achieved it earlier this year. It was a simple goal that took decades to realize but it happened. It wasn’t as grandiose as wanting to win a major award or hit a certain milestone or anything that most people would consider a dream, but it was my dream and through hard work and luck, it came true.

After a little time passed I couldn’t help but think “now what?”. This was something I had thought about, worked towards, and worked on for twenty five years. It happened, and I felt a weight lift. It wasn’t a burden, mind you. Dreams typically aren’t. But until that moment I thought about IT constantly. If I was walking my dog I thought about The Goal. If I was reading a book, I felt guilty for not working towards The Goal. Which is all very silly. One should enjoy themselves but I find enjoyment in work so it didn’t seem that bad to me.

Once The Goal was achieved, I realized how much I thought about The Goal. I walked the dog and I noticed the beautiful sky. I wasn’t as distracted with The Goal when I read. I was a little more at peace.

I felt more blessed and more fortunate than I ever had. But I also was reflective of my entire life. Not only did I wonder what was next, I couldn’t help but think about what came before.

I’ve been thinking about people I want to thank for forming who I am. I had an abusive parent and then shortly thereafter I had an abusive girlfriend. Like, abusive abusive. I am not trying to make light of it and this is probably not the time and space for discussing it but like… blood and blackouts and everything. It was awful.

Obviously I am not going to thank my father or that girlfriend for anything, but a few years later another girl I dated really helped me confront this trauma. This forced me to seek out therapy again to deal with those experiences. It took a while but I found peace and eventually found the words to communicate feelings that in previous relationships would result in, well, violence.

I don’t know how dysfunctional today I would be if it wasn’t for her. I want to thank her. And I should.

I also want to apologize to a different girl that I dated who had to put up with me after those two abusive relationships. I was, in professional medical terms, fucked up. I had no business being in a relationship while I was still experiencing the trauma from before.

I suppose I want to make peace with my past. And yes, I realize that these are things that people generally do on their death bed but who knows what the future brings? I may not have a death bed. A piano could drop on my head and that would be that.

Please know that my blasé and casual perspective towards death doesn’t indicate that I am ready to die or that I am looking to hurry it along. I am very pragmatic towards the realities of a finite lifespan and without it sounding too cliche I know that every day is a miracle and a blessing. I wake up optimistic and curious (usually) about what the day will bring.

The majority of the time it’s nothing remarkable. Usually I have to look a little harder for a miracle. And I don’t mean miracle in the biblical sense. I suppose my definition is very broad. Like, isn’t a miracle our bodies can heal themselves after we cut ourselves shaving our legs? Isn’t life itself a miracle?

I mean, it’s all science but it’s a miracle it works, isn’t it? It’s a miracle my iPod from 2006 still works.

The daily optimism and curiosity I feel expands to what could happen next month or next year. Despite sounding like I am obsessed with death, I find myself thinking “I want to live forever” all the time.

Sometimes this thought pops into my head early in the morning. Watching the sunrise from my living room while having a coffee. Sometimes this jumps into my head when an author says their new novel will be out in two years. I want to see every sunrise and read their new book.

The desire to live forever and to make peace is really strong right now. Perhaps it’s because the year is winding down which tends to make people think about the new year. Perhaps it’s because I turn another year older next week and I am more reflective and overthinking more than usual. Perhaps it’s because the MN T-Girls are celebrating our ten year anniversary next week and I am thinking about how far we’ve come in the last decade.

But regardless, I am glad to have this mindset. I LIKE being appreciative of life. I like acknowledging that I need to make amends. Life doesn’t just HAPPEN, we are formed and shaped by our experiences and by others. If someone pushed me to toward therapy when I needed it, and it had a positive impact on my life and led me to where I am now, I should thank them. Especially now that I have the perspective and appreciation that I have. If I did someone wrong, they deserve an apology.

I turn 48 next week. It’s a rather unremarkable milestone. Like, 48? Who cares?? Now, turning fifty is something, but 48? Whooooo cares. But it’s not the number, it’s the life that has been led.

As I mentioned before, I still wake up most days curious and excited what the day will bring. This curiosity extends to the rest of my life. What happens next? What do I want to do?

How much time do I have?

In most plays, the story is broken into three acts. This trend has spread to many movies where EVERYTHING is a trilogy. If I apply my life (and yes, this is all very silly) to that structure, turning 48 could mark the end of my second act, and the beginning of the third. And yes, again, I realize this is all very silly.

But once I started thinking about life=three acts, I started to look for significant moments in each “act”. My first twenty fours years was allllll about making mistakes and learning how to be an adult. And crossdressing. Lots and lots of crossdressing.

I met my wife shortly after turning 25. If we keep beating this “life is three acts” metaphor into the ground, then she enters the scene at the start of the second act. This is when Big Stuff happens. We marry, we buy a house, and Hannah becomes… Hannah.

If I live to be 72, then my life is perfectly divided into three equal parts of the same length of 24 years each. If that’s the case, then next week I would begin my third and final act.

And yes, this is all very silly but my habit of compartmentalizing life and looking for patterns was very much a factor into my autism diagnoses, so there we are.

Will I live to be 72? I hope so, as long as it’s a quality life. I feel my life is everything I could have hoped for and asking for anything more is almost greedy.

Anyway! I suppose this post doesn’t help my earlier statement of assuring you all that I am truly okay. But I have a satisfied mind and who could ask for more?

Love, Hannah