Everything’s in stasis. COVID-19 swept through our country and slowed everything down to virtually a standstill. It’s hard to stay upbeat and positive when on the daily, businesses close, jobs are lost, lives interrupted, and innocent people die.
On the other hand, for me at least, everything’s still very much in motion.
I started writing an hour a day. I worked an amazing remote internship based in Los Angeles with a group of empowering and inspiring mentors. I was accepted into both the Writing for the Screen and Advanced Directing sequences for my film major. My short Noodles & Incense screened at several different film festivals, and I got to meet so many incredible people along the way (even if most of my experiences were virtual!).
I don’t want to pretend that it’s all been peachy, though. The economy’s tanked, forcing me to seriously consider a temporary career switch outside of film. I keep falling for people who are in relationships, or 14 hours away, or straight (oops!). While I’m starting to take steps towards bottom surgery, I’m also struggling with the vast amount of pressures that come with the operation.
I did pick up knitting though. That was kind of huge.
Personal Update: I love crying. I know it sounds sadistic, but crying means the world to me.
I spent so much of my teens feeling detached from life, like an outside observer just watching everything through a screen, desperately longing for the fast forward button. It wasn’t that I felt fully dissociated from my body, but that my life wasn’t what it could be. I felt like life was something that other people got to fully experience, but not me. So, I cried maybe once or twice a year at most. My tear ducts were dried-up wells.
This year, for better or for worse, I cried so much. There was a lot to cry about. I cried in loud bursts and silent sobs and small tears and great floods. I cried until my nose was snotty and my throat was raw. I cried until my voice was gone and my tears stopped being salty (side note: is this a medical condition? Should I be worried?).
In short: I cried a ton this year, and it was absolutely fantastic.
I grew up keenly aware of another dimension.
When I was little, I would get lost in daydreams all the time about this other version of me. Her name was Rachel. She wore polka-dotted dresses on the daily and wore purple Jansport backpacks to school. She could have her nails done without her mom getting confused, and got to go to dance lessons every week
I was entranced by this parallel universe, and in doing so, I became completely numb to mine.
For years, I hadn’t given much thought to her. Having been away from home for most of my transition, I hadn’t had to fully contend with my past. Yet, staying home this summer, I was forced to confront my alter ego once more. I constantly imagined a girlhood that I never got. I thought about the life I could’ve led, and the things I missed that other cis women got: the over-priced prom dresses, the cheesy slumber parties, the soul-draining boy talks. The envy was all-consuming, and I would lay in bed most mornings lost in daydreams.
Then, one random Tuesday, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, and I realized that she was with me all along, and that for all I missed, I still have a lot of living left to do.
I recede.
In the next room over, I can hear the blaring loud music, the drafts of laughter, the twinkling of beer cans, and the excited yelling. In my bed, I lay under my covers, feeling the heat enveloping me until I’m sweating bullets. But, that’s okay. So, I remain: a sticky, hot mess.
A massive downside towards living in a house with ten other people is the fact that I ended up with a room on the first floor, next to the kitchen and the primary living spaces. You’d think COVID-19 would restrict the amount of college parties that’d ravage this home, but then again, you’d be seriously underestimating the willpower of eleven bored college students with a Busch Lite addiction.
I can’t help but think that there’s something wrong with me. I’ve never vibed with parties much. I mean, I see the appeal: the dressing up, the getting hammered, the time with friends, the ritual…
Yet, every party, two or three hours in, I find a new reason to be miserable. Part of it is the ENFP in me who can only tolerate 3+ people for so long. Part of it is I love attention and can’t stand sharing the spotlight.
But, mostly, it’s the overwhelming chill I get in my stomach. I think that I’m a freak, that I’m different, and that no one would ever understand me. People notice a shift in my mood and ask if I’m okay, and I always lie through the skin of my teeth, like, ‘oh this is me, I just don’t like parties’. And then, twenty minutes later in my room I pace back and forth furiously wondering why no one cared or even noticed that I left.
The isolation I felt last quarter was crippling, and I struggled quite a bit. I ended up even avoiding a ton of people because I thought I wasn’t enough and because I was anxious.
I’m still working on it. Until then, I’ll be patient with myself, protected under these layers of sheets.
This morning, some worker at the bagel shop called me “sir”.
In his defense, I was wearing my bag workout clothes, had my hair tied back, and talked in a slightly lower voice since I’d just woken up. In my defense, the gender binary is a stupid construct and that jerk can go shove it up his —
When I was just starting out, I’d always make a beeline for skirts and cardigans and blouses — all the things that I never got to wear before. I was always so scared of being misgendered that I stuck to the societal script of femininity to a tee. Nowadays, a year and a half later, although I absolutely adore dresses and jumpsuits and putting together outfits, I’ve finally given myself permission to ‘queer’ my clothes (and get in touch with my gay side, obviously): Hoodies under flannel, athletic clothes for day-to-day wear, sweatpants and joggers, etc. I’m still reading as “female” to most people, and am getting more and more comfortable with my wardrobe choices.
That is, until the whole bagel shop incident.
My pulse quickened and fear gripped my veins. I could feel my fight-or-flight instinct flooding my senses, and I felt like all eyes in the shop were on me as I realized I was taking too long to respond. Finally, I weakly pointed to what I’d wanted, and quickly muttered my order.
I wish I had stuck up for myself. Even now, hours later, I’m still obsessing over why I didn’t stand up to him. This complete stranger who can’t even get my bagel order right suddenly wielded all this power over me, and I was rendered completely speechless.
Much of my 2020 was spent obsessing. Am I woman enough to be read that way? Am I talented enough to make it as a writer? Am I pretty enough to find love?
Am I enough?
And, I’d like to believe that I am. I want to believe I am. I do believe that I am. I believe that I am.
I’m a woman, and no one can tell me otherwise. I really enjoy writing, and whether or not people respond to it right away, I’m gonna keep doing it cause I love it so much. I dunno what “pretty enough” even means, but I do know that I’m actively building a loving relationship with my body and my appearance and no one can take that away from me.
I’m enough for me, and I’m not about to let some rando in a bagel shop tell me otherwise.
(P.S. No hate intended for bagel shops as a whole. If growing up in New Jersey has taught me anything, it’s that you can always blame it on traffic, that anyone who says “Taylor Ham’’ will get what’s coming to them one day, and that bagels/pizza/Wawa are your religion.
So, no blasphemy intended.)
2020 was a wild year. But, I’m stronger for it. I made choices and laid down the brickwork for the rest of my life. I’m grateful for every experience I had, and I’m excited to keep growing and loving and laughing and crying in 2021.
My Favorite Shows that I Binged in 2020:
- Schitt’s Creek (Season 5, 2019)
- Fleabag (Season 2, 2019)
- Pose (Season 2, 2019)
- The Good Place (Season 4, 2019)
- Barry (Season 2, 2019)
- Watchmen (Season 1, 2019)
- She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (Season 5, 2020)
- The Queen’s Gambit (Season 1, 2020)
- I May Destroy You (Season 1, 2020)
- La Veneno (Season 1, 2020)
