That’s what my new passport photo says about me. Those booths never take a good photo do they? My mentally ill person eyebags are exaggerated, I look pale, the lighting gave me a tash and I just don’t know what I was doing with my eyes. But now I’m going to need to look like that whenever I cross a border in the next 10 years. Yay.
I am excited to be renewing my passport. It means good things are coming. I’ve agreed to travel for work again next year, so I’ll get to visit lovely colleagues all over Europe. And more imminently, I’ve booked a trip to spend Christmas in Canada with my in-laws.
My wife has been incredible over the last year, so I booked the trip as a small gesture of my gratitude for that. She has shouldered so much for me. That includes packing up our whole house when we sold it. I was fetal in the corner with a blanket and a bottle of wine. Even after the furniture was gone, I just lay there on the floor with the dog, staring at nothing, while she frantically organised everything around me.
I never, for one minute, forget how lucky I am to have her. I know that this year wouldn’t have been bearable alone. I wouldn’t be here now. You might think that’s an exaggeration, but it really isn’t. I would have ended my life months ago if our relationship wasn’t worth fighting for. Her love is what keeps me alive.
She is understanding, always kind and never judgemental. She never seems to get sick of me being sick, she’s never got impatient with the slow pace of my recovery. She doesn’t question me or try to prove me wrong. She doesn’t push me when I tell her I just can’t face having sex. Instead, she holds me, sometimes for hours, letting me share her warmth and not pressing me for answers when I can’t or won’t explain.
I don’t know what I did to deserve her. And even if I look like a transsexual junkie with a lazy eye, I know I’m always going to be her transsexual junkie with a lazy eye.
Photo from Creative Commons, courtesy of J.Elloitt