Pandy-anni

     On March 13th, 2020, Lohesh was supposed to play a show in College Park. We were to be playing with one of my favorite bands, Curse, which we very excited about. The show had somehow grown into a 6-band lineup, which we were less excited about. Even less exciting was when we had to cancel the show. It's now been over a year since I've played a show or even had band practice. I haven't managed to write a single song this whole time.

    I had planned (on that fateful Friday the 13th,) to leave work early to get to my show on time, and now with my evening free, an exciting possibility had opened up before me: I was finally off early enough on a Friday the 13th to go get a Friday the 13th tattoo. My co-workers somehow finished early too. "What could be safer in a pandemic than a tattoo shop?" we pondered aloud. After all, tattoo shops are highly sterile environments, and studies have shown that people who get tattooed frequently have strong immune systems ("According to new research from the University of Alabama (UA), receiving multiple tattoos can actively strengthen immunological responses and increase the body's ability to fight off generic infections such as the common cold." oct 17, 2019.) so off we went to the nearest shop to see what they had on offer. It was packed to the gills. People were crammed into every possible corner. We put our names down, chose our flash (I went with simple classic sheet ghost) and headed outside to wait. We got drinks in a bar. We began to finally discuss in earnest if we were going to close the shop. We decided to email all our clients to say we would honor their Saturday appointments but were planning to play the following week by ear. One client emailed back to say she thought her roots were likely a more serious situation than the virus. We eventually got our tattoos. We went our separate ways. We worked our regular Saturday shift the following day.  At this time, the CDC was still telling us not to wear masks. By Sunday morning we had all agreed to close the shop until further notice. We stayed closed for three months. Technically, since we got a PPP, it was my first and likely last paid vacation.

    That was exactly one year ago this past Saturday. I called my brother to wish him a happy birthday. He moved away a few months ago but hasn't settled on a permanent place yet; he and his fiancé have been bouncing between California, Colorado and New Mexico. It was only two days ago but I already don't remember what we talked about. My brain is different now. 

    From March 13th to March 13th, the following significant changes have occurred in my life: 

I left Catbus and moved into Lot69 at the beginning of April. Carcass and I are much happier with our new situation. Everything is vegan and the kitchen is always clean. 

River (one of J's cats) died unexpectedly and completely ripped my soul apart. This was in the first week of J coming to DC last April, so we had to drive back up to New York for like, two hours to be with him at the vet and then drive back down to DC. There were almost no other cars on the road the whole trip.

J moved in with me, but also with his other long distance partner who lives in Oregon. He stays with us each three months at a time, going back and forth. The last time I saw him was the day of the coup. I am whole and content when he is here. I am miserable when he is not. It genuinely feels like a piece of me is missing and I actively can't seem to inhale enough oxygen. I'm working on it. I do get to watch more anime and play hours of one-player videogames when he isn't around, but it doesn't quite make up the difference. I miss my person. 23 more sleeps until he gets back.

I decided it was finally time to get top surgery & am still in the process of pursuing that goal. I had hoped I would know by now when it's happening & I'm still hoping I can get it done before having to return to work full time. It would be a lot more convenient for me to take medical leave while I'm still working part time. Talking to my parents about it was easier than I expected it to be, but I also know I short-changed them on some of the details of my gender dysphoria for the sake of my own emotional well-being. I can't wait to wear so many mesh shirts when I'm post-op.

I went on new medication.

Folks, what a time to start a new medication! I'm basically braver than the troops. To leave the steady comfort of something that I knew kept me stable but also probably wasn't doing the most it could for me, into the gaping unknown maw of new moods, new levels of executive function, new side effects and the ever-present looming fear that messing with your brain drugs can cause some extremely dangerous and unhealthy thoughts to manifest in ways beyond your control...yo, that was ballsy of me. I'm now on a higher dose of my two new meds (gabapentin and bupropion) and as of last week went down to half doses of my old meds (lamotrigine). By next week, I should be totally off the lamotrigine and settling into My New Brain. I'm pretty sure the new drugs are working. 

    Today at work we were out of a number of things I needed and I was running a half hour behind schedule. This normally would have sent me into a panic spiral, but today, though I was frustrated by my limitations, I didn't even experience the usual jump of elevated heart rate that usually accompanies these situations. Not until after I was done with my clients for the day, anyway. Here's what did it:

We've had a broken mirror propped up on top of some shelving in our back room for months. Every day I look at it and think to myself "why the fuck has no one dealt with this mirror". Today, we ran out of 20 volume bleach in the color room, so I had to grab some from the back. It was behind the broken mirror. I gently moved it to grab more bottles, and moved it back since there was no where else to put it. The crack in it deepened. Later on I went through our supplies to take stock of what else we were out of or running low on, and realized I would need to move the mirror again so I could check the stock behind it. I noted what we were low on. I gently put the mirror back. I stepped away from it. It followed me. It crashed to the ground and I jumped back. Luckily, it didn't completely shatter. Unluckily, this meant that safely disposing of it was going to be extremely tricky. See if the mirror shatters, while it makes a huge dangerous mess, it should all fight nicely into a paper bag, which you can then place inside inside another bag or box and ensure that it wont pose a danger to a garbage collector. What I had on my hands was a mirror with several huge flexible cracks in it, held together by a stiff backing. Even folded, it was too large and oddly shaped to fit properly into...anything. So I ran to the liquor store and asked Jesse for boxes. I went back two times. I broke down all the boxes and further cut them open and taped them together until I had a flat surface large enough to lay the mirror out onto, and then cover with more cardboard. I ran out of tape when I was 3/4 finished and had to switch over to securing it with strips from a lint roller. I labeled it "BROKEN GLASS--CAUTION" and dragged it out to the cans. I went back to the liquor store, made Jesse listen to the entire story, bless that dear sweet hot man, and then bought myself a bottle of Campari as a consolation prize. I almost cried. But I didn't! So, yeah, I think the new drugs may be working.

If I press myself to remember my moods from the first half of pandy, I was usually oscillating between inconsolable crying and desperate horniness. The second half was a simmering rage coupled with a resigned exhaustion with the occasional bouts of crying and a more moderate horniness. In the first half, I exercised regularly for the first time in my life, baked a lot of cookies and reacquainted myself with painting. Now I just work and play video games and count the days until my partner comes home. It's wild to think I'm more stable now than I was then when I compare these activities. As the weather finally turns, optimism has somehow crept its way back into the folds of my brain. I don't trust it even a little bit, but it doesn't seem I've any control over it at this time. I'm looking forward to a time when I can share food and drinks with friends and complain about playing a 6-band show with a hopefulness I'd forgotten about.