So I decided on a name. I think this one is it. I can't think of any factors I left out. It fits my cultural heritage. It sounds good with my last name. It isn't too common or too unusual. It's a good name.
Kevin.
A good, Irish saint's name, which should please my family. Really, though, I'm glad I reconsidered.
Surgery is getting closer, and coming out at work is closer than that. Less than a week before I come out at work, in a unit meeting first thing in the morning, and then to my training cohort at a St. Patrick's Day lunch. Doesn't look like I got the court writer position (I think I messed up in the application process). Which means I'll have to come out to my clients and pray for the best. I'll talk to my supervisor about that in my monthly conference with her tomorrow.
Surgery is less than three weeks away. Twenty days from now, I'll be laying in a hotel room groggy on pain meds, with a chest that hurts but is mine.
I'm starting to see some changes from the hormones. Nothing drastic, but I'm fairly sure my voice has deepened some. No one has said anything, but when I hear my voice on my voicemail recordings from now versus from a few months ago, I'd swear there's a difference. Also, I'm starting to get a shadow on my upper lip. I'm shaving about once a week, because it's more professional, but I envy transmen who have the freedom to grow out all their newfound facial hair.
I'm not going to write about my family today, except to say that I am very grateful to have such a supportive church family.
I feel like I'm on a rollercoaster, with everything happening so fast, and feeling like I don't have control, just trusting that I won't really be decapitated by the apparent obstacles, or fall out when everything seems upside down. I just want to be where I'm going, or at least know how everything turns out. It's hard to suffice with the faith that, ultimately, God is in control, and has good things planned for me.
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