A Year of Firsts- Day 297 (October 26th, 2021)

In this, my first year of transitioning, my list of firsts, surprisingly are not all transition based. Or, not directly related to transitioning, at least. Back in one of my first posts I referenced the tar still left behind, the tar of learned masculinity, the tar of irrational aggression, etc...

I broke my hand. Up until now I've lived 30.5 years without breaking any of my bones--and then the year I start to really embrace the woman I am, I break my hand in, annoyingly, the most male way possible: frustration at (and with) work made me punch a hard surface.

I have a nondisplaced fracture of the base of my third Metacarpal on my right hand. In layman's terms: the bone that connects to my middle finger.

Oh this tar. It still remains in places, and some of it has proved harder to get rid of than I initially expected. But this act of stupid aggression also led to a few very real moments of sobbing. Cathartic moments. Needed moments.

It was probably naive of me to think thirty years of learned maleness would be so easy to clean away. Tar, after all, is not so easily removed. And a big part of me is hopeful that God will use this wholly unnecessary injury to help soften the stone parts of me and finally clean away the tar that remains.

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