2 Weeks Old/Self-Respect Reflected

2 weeks out from when I was

On the table and my brain feels like

It’s 2 weeks old.

It’s like I’ve been trapped in a

Depression sack for the better part of

Sixty years and I’m only

29 years old. I almost started

Bitching about people again

But I literally laughed

And saw it clearly as

“I’m so grateful I get to be me —

And not them.”

2 weeks old and I already

Sometimes forget I used to be

A woman. I’m sure

The pain will return but

I just don’t care about the anger

Or the sadness. I am reborn.

I used to be mad that women

Treat me differently but now it’s just

Boring. I’m interested in all the people

I get to meet

Who don’t know me yet

Quite the same way I feel about

Myself. I am excited to get to know

Him for who he is, not some

Angry misdirected ball of rage

Black-holing itself.

I wonder if it’s possible

To not care, to stay focused

To resist distraction and to achieve

Something even greater than this,

Not for just myself but for

Her memory. The angry little girl

Who knew what was happening

The whole time

And now gets to dance around

Without his tits flapping

Without the sensitivity of pain,

Punishing his movements, reminding her

Why he isn’t.

Non-binary, genderfluid

I changed from her to him and

During that there was a tremendously

Unnatural shifting of liquids

Somewhat similar to the

Seroma on my sternum I was

Stuck between worlds, unable to drain

The genderfluids. Now

I don’t worry, the swelling

Goes down if you’re on the right journey.

I wondered and wondered

Why it is I fought so hard

For a life no one respected, and

Now I realize

All of that was my own self-respect reflected.

I could be angry I could be jealous

I could be petty and I could be full of

What-ifs

But I’m not—

Because I did it.


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