My transition is going well, yada yada yada, blah blah blah.  That said... lately, I'm pretty freaking lonely.  I think it is more situational than anything... being separated for close to three years, followed by transition, doesn't lend itself well to relationships.  Or even dates.  There's been none of that, by my choice.  It's not all just about romance, however.  What I really yearn for, what would be more meaningful to me than a relationship, is that *one* special friend, just one... a best friend.  Finding a best friend is no different than finding a partner... it isn't something you can force, or make happen.  In either context, when you meet someone, you meet someone.  I've written words to this effect before.  There's a woman with whom I've really hit it off the past couple of weeks... we've been Skyping a lot, which is nice.  But, we won't be calling each other to come over and watch a movie anytime soon, as she's a couple of time zones away.  It's nice to have someone to talk to, though.  I find myself missing her this evening, purely as a friend.

I've previously mentioned how I've been feeling softer towards my ex-wife, H.  I suspect this whole loneliness thing exacerbates the feeling.  Anyway, this past Sunday, I was in the parking lot at a toy store, getting ready to finish my Christmas shopping.  The phone rang and it was H.  She had just finished going to church and said she thought of me when she heard the sermon.  She asked me if I would come.  If you've followed along here, you know that I am not religious.  I'm an agnostic.  Deep down, I knew that the reason H. was asking me to this was because she holds out this hope that I'll be "saved" or "see the light."  What I hoped, but knew wasn't true, was that she wanted me there just because she wanted me there.  So against my better judgment, off I went to meet my ex-wife at church.  The transsexual and the born-again.  We are both hoping for some "magical moment," she hoping that I will find God and abandon transition, me hoping that she wants me there just so I'm there.  It can still be difficult for me to say "no" to her.

No magical moments were to come, of course.  The service finished.  We talked for about five minutes and we went our separate ways, me going back to finishing Christmas shopping for our children, she to the kids' room to get our children.  She needs to let go of this ridiculous hope that I will "come to God" as she puts it, and I need to let go of this ridiculous hope that she would want to spend time with me, just because it's me.  It was nice to just stand there with her for an hour.  I did feel pretty damn empty afterwards, though.  I don't think I'll do it again.  It is very hard to let go, to let that last semblance of hope die.

I've been staying awake later the past couple of weeks.  My bedtime was holding steady at around 10 PM for a while there, which was great... now we're up until midnight, 1 AM again.  At least I don't wake at 5 like I used to.  Maybe I don't like to go to bed.  There are always people to chat with and interact with online, but there's no one upstairs.  In years past, I never liked to have anything touch me when I went to sleep.  I would cover my midsection with a blanket and that was it.  A sheet touching the edge of my toe would bother me.  These days, I sleep on my side, under my sheet and comforter, one arm hugging the pillows under my head, the other arm hugging another pillow, a fourth pillow between my legs.  A poor substitute, but this is where I am for now.

None of this is intended to be self-pitying or complaining... it's just a statement of how things at the moment.  So for now, I'll sit here writing, drinking my sugar cookie flavored hot tea with my Christmas lights on, listening to Lorena McKennitt, thinking about my kids being here tomorrow night and this weekend and I'll go to sleep surrounded by pillows.  That's all (somewhat) comforting.  It's a lonely time.  It's not called "transition" for nothing.  It'll be different someday.


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When I transitioned, there just weren't too many blogs out there written by straight, transitioned women. Well, here's one.

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