I don’t know why I’m having such a hard time writing this post. The reality is that it should be easy-peasy, super-cinchy. It should have written itself now that I think of it. But it hasn’t and it isn’t. And I still don’t know why.
The truth is that I am extremely happy in that tranquil, halcyon, “everything’s going my way” kind of way. I’m walking on sunshine and *peaceful easy feeling* is the soundtrack of my current personal narrative. I have yearned and wished for this kind of serene happiness all my life. I have often whined and ranted and lamented and basically bemoaned the fate of my ill-content, my fragmented fractured existence. If only I could be this coherent, this content. And now I am and well, the words just won’t come. Or I seem not to want them to. Or I don’t actually want to share.
Perhaps I’m afraid that the blessing of bliss is fragile and not to be spoken of lightly. Maybe I’m just worried that if I name it, it will go away, disappear, shatter, or I’ll simply wake up to find it has only been a fleeting, unattainable dream. Then it also seems too intimate, vulnerable, sacred to share so glibly. The few I want to know I have spoken with in hushed reverential tones. Otherwise I’m simply holding this peace gently in a heart filled with gratitude. I do not wish to put words to it.
Suffice it to say that the testosterone is doing exactly what it was supposed to do, everything I hoped it would do. As I’m on the absolute lowest possible dose, and have been on this absolutely lowest possible dose, for all of 3 seconds, there is exactly zero (as in not one iota) of discernible difference if you are not me. There is literally not one more or one fewer hair on my face, head or body. There has been and will be no physical manifestation of testosterone for many moons to come (possibly years) and I am just fine with that.
If you are me, however, your system has been rebooted internally and you are running smooth as a cucumber. Or something like that. I imagine that all along I have been an unleaded (or diesel) engine that has been forced to run on leaded gasoline my entire life. And now I have been given unleaded (or diesel) gas. And while my engine still has some spluttering, unclogging and filtering to do, I’m finally able to function the way I was meant to.
The inner calm is both something very different and amazing and a little bit unnerving. A sense of harmony and tranquility and yet, just simply me. I can’t see any difference, but I can certainly feel it. My mood is positive and upbeat and I feel a calm serenity like placid waters. The usual chatter of anxiety and criticism that is constantly running through my head has been suddenly subdued. I actually and literally don’t even hear it anymore. That’s the unnerving part. Something that has been so much part of the fabric of who I ever have been, a constant companion within, abruptly absent, without a trace. And with that, some small measure of, I don’t know. Would I call it confidence? Definitely equanimity, composure and unity. Hallelujah!
On the 5th day Emily became aware that something was different about me. She noted my positive bearing and openness to something (I think it was my acceptance of her offer of greens in my morning smoothie) by jokingly questioning, “who are you and what have you done with my spouse?!” I smiled felicitously and said, “I’m good, no?” She smiled lovingly and warmly at me, saying how nice it was that we were connecting and getting along so well. And then the thought struck her, cleaving the beatific smile clean off her face. “Why?! Are you taking it?”, she asked accusingly. When I said yes she looked momentarily stung and a bit sad. A pang of guilt struck me as we looked into one another’s eyes, each holding the fact that I’d deceived her. We both cringed, feeling shitty, if for different reasons. It was Emily who recovered first, quickly realizing that in the mere seconds before her realization she had been saying very positive things about my disposition and attitude and feeling very good about me and us and feeling more connected. She smiled tentatively and I sighed with some small relief as the distance between us dissipated. We couldn’t talk more in that moment because the kids were milling about and we were trying to keep the morning moving. But Emily (as usual) had bridged the gap and we went ahead still linked, however fragile the thread.