Face Time

From the moment we’re conceived, there is change. It is a natural and immutable part of existence. (Yes, change is an immutable fact.) From one day to the next we are not the same. I daresay from one moment to the next we are not the same. Even if that change is imperceptible from moment to passing moment, it’s still there. You take a million of these moments, and the amount of change that takes place becomes pronounced and profound.

The fact that you will not be the same person tomorrow you were yesterday is a curse, a blessing, and a promise. We grow up, we get older, we look at ourselves in the mirror and don’t recognize ourselves. We try to think of who we were even just five years ago and it’s difficult. Trying to put yourself in your own shoes 10 or 20 years in the past is almost an impossibility. We remember moments from those times, but they are now perceived through a vastly different lens. The lens of somebody else. That is how much we change.

I think of myself just five years ago and I don’t know who I’m looking at. Any more than that is a blur. And when you add major life moments into that mix… births, deaths, the experience of new people who become a major part of your world, new jobs, new struggles, new victories… the velocity at which change occurs is heightened. These events speed us toward the next incarnation of ourselves.

While I haven’t had the change that’s instilled through meeting the love of my life or starting a family, I have other milestones that have literally transformed me. I went through the raging tumult of grappling with gender identity and my ultimate acquiescence to the acceptance that I’m trans… and then the many years of not only trying to deal with it, but trying to embrace myself and love myself despite the fact that all I had inside me was a gnashing hatred of who I was. Even while knowing that I’m actually a pretty decent person by all standards, the self-hatred you go through from being trans truly alters who you are. It is a meat grinder that some people do not escape from. It wrings out your hope and sanity and leaves you less than whole.

BUT… once I accepted the fact that THIS is who I am, I went on to address the circumstance. I sought the way to treat the horrid feelings that being trans hurled at me. I began taking hormones. My body then literally changed in wonderful ways. Not only that, but the chaos swirling in my brain was calmed, at least a little.

Then, not even a year ago, I had bottom surgery to help me feel better. And WOW did it! After adjusting to everything, the regularity of depression that interrupted my world has been not existent, and I haven’t even been down or bluesy in months. This is UNHEARD of for me. I feel like I don’t even know who I am at times because of the absence of these bad feelings. And it’s wonderful.

And now I’m having facial surgery later today. To…day. I have navigated my way to another major and monumental leap forward, and it is now on my doorstep. And this, perhaps oddly to some, especially considering my last surgery, is the scary one. This is the one that truly frightens me and has me filled with a whole mess of feelings that I’m still trying to sort out even though it’s mere hours away.

On one hand, I am SO excited to see how this goes, and I most certainly KNOW that this is indeed a step I need to make in my life… because I’ve existed in the world as I am now for long enough to know that all of the steps I have taken aren’t enough. The life I have now isn’t the life I want for myself, and I have to strive to achieve that life because what am I doing with my existence if I’m NOT heading in the direction I need to go and fiercely fighting to get there?

But it’s trippy and scary as fuck to not know what you’re going to look like at this time tomorrow. It’s kind of terrifying to know that how the world treats me in just a short time may be drastically different. It’s also awful to think that I’m going through all of this trouble, and the pain and recovery of surgery, and the staggering financial expense of it all, and there is most certainly a chance that it won’t be enough and it won’t make a lick of difference in how the world treats me. The uncertainty of it is overwhelming.

Add into this the fact that I’m about to surgically alter this constant companion of mine… my face. The one that looks back at me in the mirror every day. While it has changed very much over the years, this seems to me to be something very different. As I’m thinking of this and typing this, tears are actually filling my eyes. There is a bit of mourning here, and there was for my previous surgery as well. But the mourning is more pronounced here, because with the last one I knew that if all went okay I would at last feel right… and I do… very much so and despite some complications.

This next surgery is different for some reason. Part of me really loves my face. Part of me wants to claw it off my skull. It’s such a strange and conflicting space to exist in.

And the really weird thing is that my weight has fluctuated greatly over the years, and when we gain or lose weight, even a little bit sometimes, our faces change. Drop 40 pounds, and you WILL look drastically different. I know, because I’ve done so. Is this any different?

I guess there’s something more to it when you’re talking about altering and shaving down and sculpting your skull. Maybe it’s the permanence of it all. But even with that, the passing of time is somewhat permanent as well. 45-year-old me has a face that has permanently been altered from 25-year-old me, and that’s just through the passing of time (well, and some hormones thrown in there too).

For some reason, and somehow, I’m both wildly excited about this next leap forward, but I’m also filled with a sense of sadness about it. Right now, with it racing up on me I’m just trying to hope for the best and stay positive about it all. After all, this is something I NEED to do with this life… I mean EVERY inch of me is telling me this… but it doesn’t mean that it’s not scary.

It’s been such a strange year, and it’s about to get way stranger. Though strange does not equal bad. That’s something I must keep in mind. 

Now my job is to stay optimistic, see this as a finish line of sorts that I’m crossing after a decades-long marathon, revel in that, and keep this mindset and the joy of completion with me.

Okay, I’m ready.

Goodbye old face, and long live the new one.

Much much love to any and everyone who has gotten me to this point. I’m thankful beyond the scope of words. 


Wishing you all the most happiness you can squeeze from this existence.