Things change. They change all the time.
There–did you see it? Something just changed.
I’ve changed a lot over the past few years and I’m still changing.
Most of my changes were obvious.
The clothes I wear. The shape of my body. The length of my hair. How I carry myself. My name. My job. My marriage. My relationships with friends and family. Which bathroom I use. My level of depression.
The other changes have been hard to see, but they’re no less impactful to how I move through the word.
My outlook. My threat assessments. My sex drive. My sexuality. My patience. My hopes. My dreams. How people treat me. How I think the rest of my life might go. My level of happiness.
Last night I had a reminder of those changes.
My autistic kid has a regular counseling appointment and tonight it was a whole family session with my ex and both kids. In a previous session my kid mentioned they just wanted a regular life with a mom and dad. The counselor thought a family session would be a good time for all of us to discuss that because she didn’t know how much we had talked about it as a family.
So we did, after a fashion. My ex said a couple of ludicrous things I think she actually believes. My eldest left the room after five minutes because he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
All the way through it, it was impossible not to know we were there right then doing that thing because I changed things. In changing myself, others had to or decided to change.
The changes I made were the right ones for me. I couldn’t not change without losing myself.
But those changes weigh on me when I hear my kid be sad or angry that the father they knew is gone. In their eyes and my ex’s, I killed him, forever changing their lives.
Change rolls on.
Please consider supporting my writing by sharing it with others with attribution and linking back or buying one of my poetry collections from the Kindle store. Thank you!