I make the reservations

to see

my trans sisters next month.

I missed meeting up with them

last October

and back in March.

And I still can’t relax

and let myself enjoy this

until we arrive.

Can’t feel the joy of

anticipation

until I know

beyond a shadow of a doubt

that this is happening.

I am waiting for something else

at work

or with my family

to fall apart

and force me

to cancel again.

My needs always come last.

Being closeted,

I can’t tell my family

where I’m truly going

or why it means so much to me,

how these trips are

the deep breath of fresh air

that gets me through the rest of the year,

a week of being my true self without fear.

I haven’t femmed up all year,

not since New Year’s Eve.

I miss being in my feminine skin.

But I also fear it.

The long process

of putting myself together.

The low level anxiety

that lurks just beneath the joy.

The fears of not looking

like how I feel inside,

of being rejected,

etc.

My inner girl is aching.

I try to comfort her

and honor her

and spoil her

as best I can.

But I know I’m not giving her enough time.

Resuming electrolysis

means there’s only one day a week

I can actually shave

and put on makeup.

I usually miss that window.

I am trying to let go of perfection,

to embrace a more genderqueer

or nonbinary look,

to let myself wear

lipstick and eye makeup

around the house

even if I have a beard.

I love this second soul

who shares my body.

I want her to be happy.

I want her to thrive.

I feel like I am failing her.

But I am trying.

Dear God, how I’m trying.