Rode my scooter around all night and burned through a quarter of a tank of gas.
Had a friend drive me around Stanley Park in her air-conditioned car while I sobbed and puffed on a vape pen.
Watched greasers work on extreme car mods on Netflix.
Went to the Queer Film Festival Opening Gala with old and new friends and claimed my membership in Vancouver’s queer community.
Cried. A LOT.
Shared a moment with Vancouver drag performer Maiden China while she lip synced to “Running Up That Hill”, a song that, quite unexpectedly, mugged me during her performance.
Found a new therapist who is trained in somatic therapy.
Talked to an old OLD friend who has known me, loved me, and been there for me for the better part of 30 years (no, not her).
Filled myself up with joy and beauty, wherever I could find it.
Breathed.
Reflected.
Wrote.
Prayed for my salvation and hers.
Loved myself even when I didn’t actually feel loving or lovable.
Forgave myself.
Applauded myself for having hope, for trying again, for believing that change is possible if I want it.
Made peace with myself, the world, and the positive changes in both.
