Find me far from where you expected

Well, it has been a while isn't it? I don't want to abandon this journal, just because so much has changed. In fact, I ought to continue. I owe it to my past self, to show that we persisted, even though it was difficult.

I finished my first semester back at school- I took two heavy classes, microbiology and general anatomy/physiology. I passed both with A's. I feel very proud of myself for managing this achieviment after being out of school for years. I have had a home again for a full year, and we are going on year two. This year feels that it will have a lot in store.
January has been a bit anxiety inducing as my student loans have run dry, but my partner has gotten a job that he can swing even with his disabilities, albeit sparingly. It's going well, and I'm proud of him.

I have top surgery on March first of this year. Two months, almost exactly. Each day, another step taken, a steady forward pace set by time.
I don't know how to say, really, how much a relief it is that I've gotten to this point in my life. I'm alive. I'm far from where i was born, the opposite side of the country, in fact, and continuing still in the near future. In the next five years, I aim to make my next move.
So much is happening, and I take it one step at a time. One breath at a time.

I have had presurgery jitters. Fortunately, I've been able to find information from other transgender men online about this- it's quite normal to have anxieties, like if you've chosen the right surgeon, if things will really go well, etc. But my surgeon is good and experienced, and things will go well. Few people regret their gender confirmation surgeries.
If you see a source claiming otherwise, they got it from a transphobic source. post surgery regret is staggaringly low among trans folks. I hope this is encouraging to trans youth reading this, should that ever happen.

I will not miss my breasts. I wear my chest binder as I type this. I'm not sure what I will do with them- maybe I could donate them. Maybe my college campus has a queer closet or something of that sort. I'll have to investigate.

My partner had an interesting point that he communicated with me recently. Sometimes, it's not enough to just say, 'you're safe.' after relying on that phrase almost excessively, it's nearly lost it's meaning and feels foreboding in itself. But this, this one feels better: I am in control of this situation. What this means is, I am in my home. It is my home, and no one has the power to remove me. There is no one else we share this space with who could harm us or punch down at us, because we are the sole residents of this space. We are safe, yes, and critically, we are in control of this space and ourselves.
It is that control that had been held over our heads in the abusive situations we had found ourselves in that I am now reclaiming. I feel that a large part of this reclaimation will be my affirmation surgeries.

As an aside, I wonder why it's so... stigmatized, medically, to seek other forms of alterative surgery. I would give nearly anything to get my ears pointed elf style, but it's almost never done, and only performed by very few 'body modifiers.' Why not incorporate that into the sphere of plastic surgery and make it safe for those who would want to pursue it? It's no more dangerous than changing the shape of one's nose except that people are forced to seek it out from non-proffesionals who can not legally use anesthetics that a surgeon would have access to. And yet, there are countries who have such modifications simply outlawed or otherwise prohibited.
It seems absurd to me. People say that capitalism will provide so long as there is a desire or need or niche for that product, but the very same people treat those who desire to change their body as they see fit very poorly.
One of the many things I hold in disdain about these folks.

None the less. I had an appointment with my academic advisor today that went well. I have two appointments tomorrow, and one the day after- various therapy, psychiatric, and academic appointments, all to ensure that my next semester will go well. Even if this month is a bit of a struggle, I have resources to get through it just fine, and even a kind friend who gifted me money for the new year. I accept this good fortune with gratitude, and I continue moving forward.

What will life bring next? I have more excitement now than ever. The anxiety lingers, still, but not nearly so present anymore since I've been housed again, under my own lease, my own name, sharing space with my loving partner and sweet little cat.

I wish you well, and I hope to see you again soon :)