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My therapist has been getting on my nerves lately with his cognitive behavioral methods. Can't a man just be self-deprecating for a little bit while telling a story? Quit calling me on my isht, it's tiresome. Or, you know, why I pay him. Whichever.
After today's session, I ran a couple errands, including dropping off five large garbage bags of clothes to Brown Elephant, thereby completing the semi-annual Closet Cleaning ReOrganizing Expedition 2007. When I open my closet door now, things don't fall out, you can access all the drawers, the ridiculous number of undershirts has been managed, and all the pants remaining are the ones that make my ass look good. So the idea of purging and letting go has been on my mind in various forms, and as soon as I got home, after thinking about some things I talked about in session, I decided to pull out this box on the porch of memoribilia, mostly in the form of photos. I forgot that the last time I was home, over six years ago at christmas time, my mom had been in the middle of a photo reorganization project, and she sent me home with tons of pictures of myself when I was younger. I went through them today, and even found one of me holding my cousin (who just e-mailed me to invite me to her college graduation) when she was a baby -- I might scan it and make it into some sort of embarassing card for her. My other favorite is one at the age of 3 wearing a t-shirt that says "Hot Dog" on it, along with a picture of a hot dog. I will be scanning that one too.
I didn't make it through all the picture, I only had half an hour, but I found it remarkably soothing, not traumatic or strange at all. Even then I started coming across random later pictures, like my high school flannel and birkenstock years (and this was pre-dyke!) or even a random outtake from a Lambda holiday card shoot, which is me at only 9 months on T? It's hard to tell, only that I'm in that nebulous stage of second adolescence androgyny and I have a chin beard. But mostly it was picture after picture of me as a kid. And yeah, as a girl. It just suddenly didn't seem a bit strange that in my world, girls grow up to me men. There didn't seem the least bit of a disconnect. I could trace the line perfectly.
What was way more disconnecting was seeing me in an airbrushed Bart Simpson t-shirt, tucked into some khaki shorts (and bloused out to a ridiculous degree) along with Tretorn sneakers, and remembering how that was one of my favorite preppy outfits that made me feeling super-styling.
I think the next project will be sorting, saving, storing these up into more reasonable containers than the current bulging ziploc bags thrown in a box on the porch. And figure out how to scan the cream of the crop to post here, of course. I think I'll be staying late at work one quiet night and make good use.
After today's session, I ran a couple errands, including dropping off five large garbage bags of clothes to Brown Elephant, thereby completing the semi-annual Closet Cleaning ReOrganizing Expedition 2007. When I open my closet door now, things don't fall out, you can access all the drawers, the ridiculous number of undershirts has been managed, and all the pants remaining are the ones that make my ass look good. So the idea of purging and letting go has been on my mind in various forms, and as soon as I got home, after thinking about some things I talked about in session, I decided to pull out this box on the porch of memoribilia, mostly in the form of photos. I forgot that the last time I was home, over six years ago at christmas time, my mom had been in the middle of a photo reorganization project, and she sent me home with tons of pictures of myself when I was younger. I went through them today, and even found one of me holding my cousin (who just e-mailed me to invite me to her college graduation) when she was a baby -- I might scan it and make it into some sort of embarassing card for her. My other favorite is one at the age of 3 wearing a t-shirt that says "Hot Dog" on it, along with a picture of a hot dog. I will be scanning that one too.
I didn't make it through all the picture, I only had half an hour, but I found it remarkably soothing, not traumatic or strange at all. Even then I started coming across random later pictures, like my high school flannel and birkenstock years (and this was pre-dyke!) or even a random outtake from a Lambda holiday card shoot, which is me at only 9 months on T? It's hard to tell, only that I'm in that nebulous stage of second adolescence androgyny and I have a chin beard. But mostly it was picture after picture of me as a kid. And yeah, as a girl. It just suddenly didn't seem a bit strange that in my world, girls grow up to me men. There didn't seem the least bit of a disconnect. I could trace the line perfectly.
What was way more disconnecting was seeing me in an airbrushed Bart Simpson t-shirt, tucked into some khaki shorts (and bloused out to a ridiculous degree) along with Tretorn sneakers, and remembering how that was one of my favorite preppy outfits that made me feeling super-styling.
I think the next project will be sorting, saving, storing these up into more reasonable containers than the current bulging ziploc bags thrown in a box on the porch. And figure out how to scan the cream of the crop to post here, of course. I think I'll be staying late at work one quiet night and make good use.
