The reality of being full-time is that I can't present perfectly all the time, and it's ridiculous to try.
I just came back from the local convenience store, wearing no makeup. I haven't shaved my arms in two days. I'm eating a nice sandwich.
I doubt that I was passing at all. I kept fluctuating between worrying about what people around me were thinking, and not really caring what they thought. For moments at a time, I was wandering through the store, almost drunk on life, just being me.
I probably looked crazy to them. Maybe I am crazy. Well, whatever.
A nice man held the door open for me as I left, and smiled. I smiled back at him.
Funny thing... while I was in there, I had briefly had a visual flash in my brain of someone who was passing behind me... stabbing me in the back with a knife.
I didn't let it bother me too much.
As I swayed easily back to my car, I remembered that I have PTSD.
I remember living as a man, a couple of years ago, being afraid of an office party. Being unable to keep track of what all those people thought of me meant I would have no warning when one of them was about to attack.
And my PTSD flared up in the store again tonight, with a visual flash of a knife sunk into my back. But it hardly even bothered me.
Driving back home, I realized something.
I'm so done with fear. Fear is a stupid waste of my life.
I remembered that as a trans woman, I am sixteen times more likely to be murdered than the cis population.
And I didn't even care. I'm fine with it.
I'm not even afraid.
I'd rather die being me, than live as someone else. At least I'll die happy. I'm good with it.