I plunged myself head first into things and did what I thought was expected all the while running into mental road blocks through trying to suppress who I was. Those domestic suburban years when my children were young were busy and I was able to concentrate on soccer and hockey practices, doctor's appointments and mowing lawns. This is what most of us from our generation did to the best of our ability.
Now this void of not being needed quite so intensely is sometimes hard to get used to and I oscillate between nostalgia a newly found sense of freedom.
Each stage of life is far from perfect and while we are embroiled in them we cannot appreciate fully because we are so intensely living the experience. That mindfulness that should accompany each segment sometimes gets jettisoned only to appear later as rose coloured memories we can savour when we are left alone to reflect.
I am now being afforded that time.
Some of the lessons I learned were a real wakeup call and if you had told a 25 year old me where I would be today I would have thought you a liar. But such is the way life unfolds from a seedling to a tree whose final form we cannot predict. Yet for all the twists and turns there is very little I can complain about and much of the grief I suffered was self inflicted in my refusal to accept that I was trans.
These days I sometimes look at conventional people with their conventional lives and occasionally catch a glimpse of the person I convinced myself I was supposed to be.