It’s 11:45pm EST. The Brewers are tied up at two with the Rays in the 11th inning of game four of the World Series. That’s a lot to spit out all at once. The game went on so long it outlasted the battery on my Bluetooth speaker. I mailed my Dad the coming out letter I wrote a month ago, and my stomach has been in knots since I closed the lid on the mailbox this morning before heading to work. The Brewers have never won the World Series before. Their only appearance in the fall classic up until this year was in 1982, back when they were in the American League. I have an old friend in Madison, WI who is probably going nuts right now.
They just scored and are up 3-2 in the 12th inning. I have my first therapy appointment tomorrow evening. I still don’t know how I feel about it. I should be preoccupied by a whole mess of other things right now but I just can’t bring myself to care about anything right now. All I can think about is how much I think about shit I have no control of. Maybe I need to talk to someone to help me sort all this out. I’m tired of being in limbo. Mailing that letter pretty much concludes coming out to my family. I’m sure my mom has told my sister already. I suspect that’s why she didn’t invite me to either of my niece’s birthday parties a few weeks ago. It’s whatever – I’m not really that close to my sister anyway. I’m just ready to have it over with at this point so I can move on to the next steps in my transition. Keeping this a secret from my family for the past few years has done nothing but hold me back.
It’s now the bottom of the 12th inning. They just need three more outs to put this series in the history books. I’m going to buy one of their gold trimmed hats as soon as they’re available; I collect hats and old habits die hard. I’m wary of how much I should share with the therapist. I was placed with this one because they’re trauma certified, and I scored high on the PTSD survey. I had already picked a different therapist that’s nonbinary and I feel like would be a better fit. Shared experiences and all that jazz. But they wanted me to see someone sooner than mid November so I guess I have two of them. My last experience with therapy was a nightmare, as I was forced to talk about things I didn’t want to while I was in rehab. They said if I didn’t open up they were going to hold me back and possibly fail me from the program. I’m not going to go into it here because talking about it makes me uncomfortable.
I want this game to be over with already so I can go to bed. I want the postal service to hurry up and deliver my letter so I can get that heartbreak over with too. I just want to feel normal again. I’m tired of worrying about this shit all hours of my day and I’m ready to get back to doing things that bring me joy. I went camping this past Saturday and it was nice, but not as refreshing as usual. The Rays just tied the game in the bottom of the 12th with a runner on. It’s now 12:26am. The bases are now loaded after a series of singles.
12:29am and the Rays win game four. 4-3 in 12 innings. Brewers still lead the series 3-1. I’m going to sleep. If I can sleep. -af
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