head, shoulders, knees and toes

I hate to start a new post, especially the first one in over a year, with a complaint, but… I hurt my knee, sprained my MCL and it’s killing me. Playing hockey (as if that needs to be said). And it’s taking longer to heal than I want.

Healing is hard. And it usually takes longer than I’d like. And I mostly want to skip over the painful stuff and go right back out on the ice and distract myself. It’s actually no surprise (ala: the body keeps the score) that I have sustained a “slow-down-pal” injury. A lot has actually happened and changed in the year or so since last I wrote. Big stuff. Important stuff. And since I’m not spending my time blocking pucks right now and seem to have a little extra time on my hands, maybe I should take a moment and catch you all up.

After a literal quarter-century of working at the same place, for the same company, doing the same thing, I made a huge change to a new job. Same profession, just new place of employment and all that entails. Having made the leap, landed, and mostly settled in on the other side, it makes sense that the Universe is suggesting that I sit quietly back and take stock.

So yeah, I left my job. My home and family of 25 years. The place I went (my car driving seemingly of its own volition) 5 and sometimes 6 days a week for the majority of my adult life. The place and people who saw me through the good, the bad and the ugly. The place and people who helped me say goodbye to my father and welcome my children, who cried with me, laughed with me and kept me safe and sane even while sometimes making me crazy. The fierce love and devotion to the community so powerful I could not imagine not being part of it. The angst that went into making the decision to leave cannot be overstated. And it is nothing short of astonishing to me that the fear and near-paralyzing anxiety I had about making the change was fairly dispelled in a matter of weeks as I settled into a new and yet somehow easily familiar routine that felt as if I’d been doing it forever. Like riding a bike I dare say. So easy. The truth of the matter is, I am pretty proud of myself for how I made this seemingly seamless change happen and the ways in which I took care of myself (and those around me) before, during and after leaving. Perhaps the reason I could so easily settle in to a new place.

I think we all know that change and I have never been “friends”. Heck, we’ve hardly even been on friendly terms. I kick and scream and dig my heels in and prefer to cover my eyes and ears and la la la la until it’s over. Or I simply disappear, the way I do from social gatherings of more than 3 people. In my last job I went the unfortunate route of chaos (but let’s not go there). I’m proud to say that I may have learned a thing or two in my life. I have written and rewritten this part a dozen times. It is so hard for me to simply say that I did something well, that I’m proud of myself. It feels like bragging and boasting, uncouth and gauche. Fear that I will immediately be punished for being so conceited. But at the same time, I am practically vibrating with the unabashed pride of a child that I have many times marveled over when witnessed in others.

I made sure I had plenty of time and space. I created and, in some cases ordered, cards and tokens, stationary, stickers and envelopes. I hand-wrote more than 400 individual goodbye notes, cards and letters. I sat with and faced each feeling as I crafted, then hand-delivered each and every one of those farewells. I hugged and cried and even danced with the people I have loved more than I can describe, knowing I was saying goodbye. To some, forever. I made myself stay present as I was feted and honored and loved right back. And after 3 weeks of the most exhausting, grueling, but therapeutic wringing-out I have ever known, I took two weeks to just be before having to start my next adventure. It was terrifying and terrible even while it was exhilarating and powerful. After all was said and done I thought I might be able to write a book on the potency and importance of a good goodbye.

In some weird way even though everything was new, so much still had a familiar quality that has allowed me to feel comfortable. Or maybe I really have taken in a few lessons from decades of therapy. Or maybe I have learned something from Ani Pema’s lessons on being comfortable with uncertainty. Or maybe I have just gotten comfortable enough and companionable enough with myself that being “me” was even a little bit stabilizing.

I realize too and am grateful with wonderment that I have been granted a unique opportunity to reinvent myself. And for someone who is late to the trans game and 57 years old, that is no small thing. I am committed to making the most of this gift. Not that I haven’t always had this ability to grow, change and become. We all do. But this feels different. No one at my new job knows me. I have no past with anyone there. No one expects me to be “the way I’ve always been”. We are all (myself included) getting to meet and know me for the first time. This point was driven home in my first week at my new job when, in a meeting, one of the doctors asked what pronouns I preferred. 12 people, including the chaplain I had been partnered with, looked at me expectantly. Part of me wanted to just blurt something out, something that would make everyone comfortable and get the focus off of me. I hesitated and took a deep breath. And before I could respond, the doctor literally said, “Be whoever you want. You have a really cool opportunity to be whoever you want to be and we won’t know the difference.” She went on to suggest that of 3 possible pronouns (she acknowledged there were others, but for the sake of moving the meeting along she suggested 3) – he, she or they – I should put them in order of preference. I took another deep breath. Be honest Hali. I was a bit surprised to hear myself say, “He, they and she. In that order.” The meeting went on without another word about it. I was kind of beaming with my newfound authenticity. After the meeting was over, as we walked together down the hall, my chaplain partner apologized for not having asked me before. He has not only used my preferred pronouns himself, I know he has educated others without me having to be present. He has paved the way for me to be myself.

And so I have been. Mostly it has been intentional, choosing to be the person I want to be – kind, grateful and present. And mostly that has been authentic. But I do have a rather snide, snarky, negative, dare I say – judgy side. I have purposely worked on choosing not to be those things, allowing my better self to bloom and grow. And since no one at work expects me to be sarcastic (albeit funny), they just accept that this beatific being is who I am. I have to admit it feels really wonderful. The less intentional changes have been informed by the reading I’ve done to hone and learn new skills for working with a very different population than I have known. I have been doing a fair bit of reading about trauma in the last 4 months. I have learned as much about myself as I have about others. I have read two excellent books on the subject: In The Realm Of Hungry Ghosts by Gabor Mate and What Happened To You by Oprah Winfrey and Bruce Perry. I highly recommend both books. They have given me a deeper understanding about childhood trauma and have made me more curious, purposeful and gentle with my own wounds as well as the wounds of others. I’m pretty sure I’ll be writing more about that in future posts.

On the outside, I have also made a few changes. I’d been wearing surgical scrubs for close to 3 years. Having gotten used to the thin, comfortable, shapeless pajama-like quality of unisex achromatic drab, I shuddered at the thought of having to put on actual form-fitting clothing. I made a relatively snap decision to wear pants (nothing crazy, just your basic chinos) and a button-down dress shirt. With a vest. Not a formal tuxedo vest. A thin knit waistcoat type of gentlemanly vest. It isn’t anywhere near perfect, but I only had so much energy I was able (or willing) to devote to my appearance. I have agonized too long over what I look like to others, knowing that the image in my head will never even come close to actualization. So for now, this works. I may add a thin tie to the ensemble in the new year. We’ll see. The biggest external change is that I ordered new glasses. The sharp-metal, electric-blue, square frames (I actually have two pairs of) that have been my “signature” for nearly 15 years are about to be replaced. Even though I swore and then assumed for all these years that I would die in my sapphire spectacles, I have chosen a subdued forest green plastic frame that feels more in line with a more authentic, refined, me. Of course I will continue to be the competitive, explosive hockey beast you all have come to know and love. Once I get back on the ice. Thanks for reading and Happy New Year!