All the Things (Rumbly Rambles #1)

Well, another late night entry. I feel bad for writing so much, but… I guess it’s my blog, and it’s helping me heal and process, and anyone reading this is doing it of their own volition, so… I’ll just give myself permission to keep writing.

One more sleep to gashuku. For once, I haven’t had any nightmares (well, not specifically about karate) leading up to it. Dare I say I’m more excited than scared? I’m looking forward to seeing how these new shoes do on the trail, and no matter how unfit I am it’ll be a pleasure running through the forest. My wrist is still sore from weights last week, but I’ve rested it as much as I can and it can’t be helped – I’ll just try not to make things worse. No matter how challenging the training gets, all I have to do is make it through two hours and then I’ll get a break. Two hours at a time: that’s how I’ll conquer this thing, and enjoy it too.

I realised as well that I do love to push myself, just maybe not as hard as Sensei K (or the other black belts) push me. For them, doing 50 pushups is probably difficult but not impossible. I’d probably struggle with half of that right now. And so when they get to 25, and I’m tapped out and they’re not even tired yet, they keep going until they feel satisfied they’ve pushed their own personal limits, and that’s way beyond my own. I wouldn’t mind at all if everyone were the same level of fitness as me, and wanted to push themselves exactly as hard as I did. That’s impossible of course, so all we can do is our own personal best. And I want to be more forgiving of myself, and to take pride in those 25 pushups even if they’re a far cry from my peak.

In other news, I had a small revelation today. As I contemplated re-painting my nails, I suddenly realised that I no longer feel self-conscious about them (except if they’re chipping badly, about 10+ days old). When I first started painting them, I didn’t even want to wear them out of the house. It’s strange to think that four months ago I literally wanted to rip the nails right out of my fingers to avoid people at karate noticing them, and to disown ever making myself look pretty. But none of those thoughts cross my mind anymore, and I am so grateful for that.

Wren suggested the same thing is true of wearing skirts in public, and I can’t quite agree with them yet. While it’s true I’ve absolutely been smashing it in the skirt-in-public front, and my SUDS are way down, it’s not quite a distant memory where I look back and wonder how I could ever have been afraid.

But I am getting there, and I find that surprising for some reason. When I’m in fear, I am so sure it’ll last forever. And to look around a few weeks down the track and notice that I’m not feeling so scared anymore… It’s strange, to push and push and push against resistance and then one day realise there’s nothing left to push against, and I’m stronger for surviving it. (I guess that’s what Sensei K tries to teach us, but I enjoy learning the lesson much more when it’s in my own time.)

My dear friend has said more than once that I’m moving so quickly through my transition. And it’s hard for me not to compare myself to other trans folx who seem to have come to terms with themselves much sooner, but I’m starting to see what she means. I have changed a buttload in the past 16 months. And I’ll change a lot more in the months to come. And that rate of change is perfect for me.

And speaking of getting used to being out in a skirt, I went into Dangerfield today, emboldened by that incredible sticker on the window. And as I browsed the skirts, and dresses, and even some admittedly cute pants that I still wouldn’t wear out of principle, I found something special: a dress all my own. It fit so much better than the ones I ordered online, and I can’t tell you what it means to me to have a dress that actually fits my fricking body. That body whose measurements sent me into a meltdown because I was convinced I was misshapen and not designed to wear dresses and I’d always look ridiculous in them. I was so, so happy, and I kind of want to wear it all the time? Or to find an excuse to dress up a little? Why would I ever take it off???
(I also nearly bought some Doc Martins with rainbow stitching, laces, and a pride flag. Damn, they were probably in my size too, but I couldn’t bring myself to buy a third pair of shoes in the same month. Gosh I hope Dangerfield is an ethical brand, but I can’t bring myself to look them up just yet.)

Not so long ago, I despaired because I thought I’d never have the courage to walk into a store for women’s clothing and try something on in their changerooms. Some trans folx (maybe a little insensitively) told me that no one cares and neither should I. I couldn’t envisage such a future, but they were right. No one has shanked me yet for wearing cute clothes in public.

I think my growing hair and the way I carry myself is what makes all the difference. On the one hand, I’m looking increasingly feminine with every passing day. On the other, I’ve reached a point where I feel strong and safe enough to be open about being trans, and because I move through the world with confidence people let me be. Maybe. I don’t know, I certainly don’t want to get into victim-blaming “If you look like a victim you’ll attract violence” thinking. But I think that I’m cool with how I look, so other people are cool with it too.

Tea ceremony went fine by the way. No one said anything about my skirt, but I might have seen a grin or two. Mostly I just struggled to keep up with the complex ritual we were learning today. I cheated a little by watching a video right before class of my teacher doing the first half, but even with that cramming I still made so many mistakes. Sensei kept correcting me with a tone that implied I should have known better (even though I’d never done it before), but I didn’t mind. I appreciate that she holds me to a high standard: that she expects excellence from me at all times, because that’s just what I do. Chanoyu is such a great outlet for my perfectionism and striving, and there is something immensely beautiful about trying to get every detail just right.

Welp, this has been a lovely ramble. Time to get some rest: another busy day tomorrow. I’m really not good at balancing the energy-out vs energy-in thing. But I feel a strength deep in my bones, that no matter how weary I get I feel I will always be able to keep moving forwards. It’s a beautiful conviction that will carry me through all kinds of challenge. I hope it lasts the weekend.

Two hours at a time. I got this.