I took a tumble off of my electric scooter, and I had to go to the ER. It was a difficult experience, and being trans didn't help.

I had a great day at work, and I had some thoughts on misgendering and dead naming. Then I rambled about Christian School before finally going to bed.

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In this episode I discuss my pressing need to pee and the absence of a couch, my newfound shopping addiction, going out in public in girl mode, and we top it off with a little self love. No, not that kind. Eeeww. Pervert. Do you think about your mom with that mind?!?

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I had probably the fourth best day I have ever had in my life. I got my name tag. No big deal, I know... but it was to me. It is to me. And I talk about it. I also talk about some of the people I work with, and if you listened to the first one, you know I probably cried at least once or twice. How annoying. Anyway, I recorded this late at night, I really enjoyed it but it was another hard thing to talk about. Love to all of you, especially my beautiful wife.

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I spent over 40 years running from it. Four days ago, I ended up calling the suicide prevention hotline and scaring the hell out of myself. So I decided I needed to come out to my wife and kids, and I needed to ask for help. If I didn't, I wasn't going to survive. Of course, everyone had questions. And the psychiatrists and therapists that will be talking to me in a week will have questions. But I have been avoiding talking about this since I was 11, and I don't know how to talk about it. I don't even know how to articulate any of it, but I need to talk to someone. I can't wait a week or two for things to get started, and I can't explain to my wife what I can't even begin to understand what to say. And so I'm talking to you. You're my therapist. You're the one I'm going to run to when I need to talk. And I say this with the understanding that my wife may very well listen to it, and that's ok. My psychiatrist may even listen to it, and that's ok too. Hopefully, when the week is done, I can have a more articulate way of expressing myself, and I won't sound like a blubbering idiot when I talk to the keepers of the hormonal sacrament that must be pleased before I can get my Fem-n-Ms (estrogen) and finally get this whole adventure started.

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