That wasn't supposed to happen. I let six months elapse between blog posts, though I suppose that's somewhat appropriate, being that the last message was entitled "Six Months". Ba-dum tish. I wish I could say that I've been busy, but that's only partially true. The truth is, I've been distracted, by all manner of things. I wanted to post a few different times in the interim, but I could never get my thoughts organized quite to my satisfaction. I was also having trouble trying to describe events without making the participants (myself included) sound like assholes.
I managed to go the whole year without a proper job. Along the way I learned that my not getting hired was not due to my credit history, but a criminal charge I was completely unaware of. Suffice to say, I now have a misdemeanor conviction for fraud, for which I am currently on probation. I also have court costs and other fees to pay, but at least I'm not in jail.
In August, I narrowly escaped becoming homeless. My therapist helped me apply for a berth in a reputable homeless shelter, but I needed someplace to crash until said berth opened up. My friends Troy and River stepped up and let me stay in their spare bedroom for about a month. Around the same time, River's dad entered the hospital. He's 91, and suffers from a lot of things, but is hobbled by dementia. I spent a night with him in the hospital, and we hit it off somewhat. When he was released, he needed someone to stay with him 24/7, and I was asked to take on the job. That gave me both a place to live and some income.
Having a base and spending money brought my femme self back out of the closet. My housemate accepted me as a woman, and I've spent the last three months sliding back and forth between my personae. I've presented myself as male when I needed to, as when I appeared in court, reported to my probation officer, etc, and have tried to spend the balance of my time en femme. I've expanded my wardrobe, and made new friends and contacts. I've met with a lot of acceptance, but also weathered a bit of ribbing and more recently, some nasty street harassment. It's ironic. In the last couple of weeks, a number of drivers or passengers have rolled alongside me to shout something, but they're going too fast or something, because I've not understood a word of it. I hear the tones, and I know derogation when I hear it, but other than a muttered "faggot" and a lot of laughter, I haven't heard the substance of most of the slurs. I guess my MP3 player is good for hearing protection after all. ;)
Anyway, as I enter the new year, I find myself almost returned to my situation of a few months ago. My aged companion has announced that he is ready (at long last) to enter assisted living, and when he goes, I will be back out on the street. Maybe the shelter will still take me in. I'm just not sure how I want to go. When I first applied, I was looking at going into the male dorm. All my feminine trappings were in storage, and I didn't know when I'd see them again. I was willing to put up with that experience to keep a roof over my head. After the freedom of this last season, I am not sure that I am willing to go without. I don't think I am feminine enough to get a spot in the female dorms, but I don't know if I can put on the rough airs I might need to weather the male spaces, either.
Whatever happens in the near future, I will try to do better at updating this blog on a regular basis.