The narrative that has choked so many meaningful intimate moments in my life is the false narrative, "You deserve to be happy but if there is a conflict that must mean there is something wrong. Not with them, but with you."
I have, on more than one occasion over the last 15 months found myself voluntarily leaning into pointless discussions with ill-informed people over issues of my identity, my life with my xp, and the decisions I was making before and after the discovery.
Here is the thing: if I want to be less trigger-happy (triggery? triggered?) I need to deal with my shit. Me. No one else.
I packed up everything and moved to Pittsburgh last week. I don't see myself ever going back. I don't want to be here but none the less I am.
And that's that...