Hopscotch…A Jump in Life 7

*Before…

Though I did read me saying that “I’d love it but I’d never really wear it.”
I said that a lot.
Though I can see why.
I mean there’s a lot of me that I can see as Sarah seeing Shawn never being out of the way and that had to…and does…suck.
I can even sort of feel that much.
…….I want to be pretty, to just kind of walk and feel and be that person that I feel like inside.
I absolutely do not feel like a Shawn.
Actually I feel…I feel.
I feel like I’m going to panic because now I’m inside this thing and it’s small and it’s closed in and it’s making noises and lots of them and all of a sudden I’m not there.
I’m in the car and it’s rolling and it’s rolling and every time it rolls the air is getting redder and redder and I’m screaming and screaming and it won’t move! It won’t give I can’t get out and my back hurts and I can’t get out1 “Lemme go! Lemme out, please, please let me out! Help! I’ll be good! I’ll be a good Girl! I’ll be a good Girl!”

*And Now…

I’m freaking and there’s a part of me that knows, or sort of knows that this isn’t happening and that’s being completely overridden by the panic that’s swallowing me up like some kind of monster.

It’s a terrible feeling to lose control like that and be sent careening over and over in the accident again.

I mean it’s so real I can swear that I smell and feel blood on me.

They get me out of there and the bed’s been backed up and Mom’s there and I’m rolling off the thing and onto the floor and I’d have hit a lot harder if she and one of the tech people hadn’t caught me and lowered me down to the floor.

There’s nothing macho there that has me sucking it up and trying to be strong…it’s just not there at all and I start to screamy-cry bawl as soon as I realize it’s not real and I hang onto Mom for dear life.

It’s barely even clicking that I wet myself…yuck.

I’m trying…she’s talking to me and she’s holding me and she’s soothing me and I’m really trying to get a grip on reality and I feel a sharp thing in my thigh and it kind of makes me want to freak a little more because it’s just one more thing that’s happening to me and I can sort of feel my heart rate dropping and this wave of pain and sheer exhaustion hitting me and pulling me under.

And I kind of don’t want that.

“No….no. Mommy no I slept enough…please no…please I’ll be good, I’ll be a good girl.”

I hear her. “Shssh, it’s okay it’ll calm you down, it’ll calm you down it’s a good thing, I’ll be here darling.”

It gets really dim and fuzzy and I don’t black out but it’s so hard to stay awake and it’s so hard to stay with things and I’m in and out of it and I feel like I’m being moved and I feel like I’m being puppetted.

Like people are literally moving my body.

It’s really creepy.

I hate this, I really hate this.

It’s fuzzy and moving and fuzzy and moving and it’s then me moving and more touching. “Mom…mom! Get them to stop? Please get them to stop?”

I hear her say. “Are they alright?”

“We don’t know ma’am he cut his hands up thrashing to get out of the MRI.”

Mom…oh Mom… she says. “Don’t use he.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard them in there so don’t…just don’t.” Mom’s voice has a hard edge to it like she is going to haul off and smack someone.

“Uhm…okay they didn’t pull things that they shouldn’t have we don’t think so at least.”

“Okay you can go.”

“But hi…their hands.”

“Leave the stuff here; I know how to take care of scrapes.”

“I…I can’t do that.”

“Well you’re not doing it, go and get Connie or Mary to come in and do it young lady, because you’re not.”

I feel her stop and I feel her leave the room…it’s not some ESP thing she’s just pissed off or scared of my Mom and she getting out of there.

I peek and open my eyes and look at her and she’s looking at me and she’s all blotchy and her eyes are red like she’s been crying too and I bite my lip.

“Sorry Mom…I just…It was just so close and the noise and then I wasn’t there any more…I was in the accident.”

She nods and sniffles and looks at me. “It’s okay…but was this the thing?”

I nod. (Sniffle.) “Yeah…”

“The thing that you found in your Live Journal?”

I nod a few times. (Sniffle.) “Yeah…”

“And you didn’t know what to tell me?”

(Sniffle.) “How? How could I? I wake up and it’s all of this stuff coming at me and I hurt and then there’s me being Shawn only I don’t remember Shawn I don’t even feel like a Shawn and it’s all so messed up and I’m trying to figure it all out about why I feel so wrong and off and then I find that…that account and then this whole other me that I don’t know about either and I can’t remember her either but all I do know is that ever since I read that stuff all the stuff in there just reaches inside of me and plucks like all the strings I got.” (All-in-rushed-girl-sniffle-whine.)

And I’m crying, I’m crying because I’m still really shaken up and now my knuckles hurt along with everything else and I just can’t it’s not there in me to be all fake strong and stuff.

And Mom’s off of the seat and sitting on the bed and she’s hugging me and she’s holding me and I’m bawling and she’s crying again but she’s hugging me and not freaking out on me and stuff and that’s…that’s kind of freaking amazing and that amazing is making me cry even more making me a complete mess of bad crying and stress crying and good crying.

She rocks me back and forth and she holds me so close that her body heat reminds me of one of those heated blankets that they give you only if they washed it in like love and safety.

“Honey it’s okay, it’s okay I knew I knew that there was something going on with you right from when they took the catheter out and you had that freak out.”

“But …it’s…I’m sorry…” I whine, I know that I’m being all whiny.

“Sorry why?”

“’Cause I’m not Shawn.”

“Honey…are you sure?”

I nod and I look at her even if right now I’m just seeing a teary Mom shaped blur. “It’s, it’s that only thing I am sure of! It’s like everything I knew about me is like all gone except for these effing flashbacks and there’s nothing there no Shawn and No Sarah but I know…I read the stuff that I’ve done and posted and felt and…and…and…dammit it’s the one, the one thing that I know deep down that is real right now!”

She’s looking at me in that parental leaning back to take it all in sort of thing and she reaches up with her thumb and she wipes the tears away from my eyes with her thumb and I can see her smiling.

“Well it’s a good thing you’re not wearing make-up Sarah otherwise you’d be a right mess.”

Uhm…whaaa?

“Mom…?”

“Yes?”

“You called me Sarah.”

“Are you?”

I nod and more tears like a bobble-head. (Sniffle-sob.) “Yes!”

“Then with everything that’s happened I believe you.”

“You do?”

She nods and I see her wipe at her own tears but she’s all blurry again and she says. (Sniffle.) “Yes honey, you’re not the first trans person that I knew.”

(Sniffle.) “I’m not?”

(Sniffle.) “No, I knew a couple, one was a friend in high school and another one was a friend in college.”

“And…and you’re not mad that I’m like this?”

“No…honey not at all there’s nothing wrong at all about being trans.”

(Sniffle-whine.) “There’s not?”

“No, not at all…you’re a girl. It’s just a pronoun, it’s just one little thing about you.”

(Sniffle.) “But I’m…I’m like…”

She is wiping at my face with a tissue now and that helps and I see this soft concerned but actually caring and maybe even happy? How? How can she be happy about this?

Here hand strokes my face and she kisses my cheek. “You’re alive Sarah. You’re still alive.”

And I start crying all of over again and it feels like this deep aching dam of stuff inside that I couldn’t really articulate like right just kind of breaks in me and lets go with this flood.

…………right now, right friggin now I’m Sarah and I…I really have a Mom.