A Trans Woman Melts Down across the Street from a Gender Reveal Party
A dysphoric, euphoric, and autistic day almost too absurd to be real
When we pulled onto Jake’s street, I was already sobbing, heading into an autistic meltdown. And for some reason, the street was jam-packed with parked cars, forcing us to park a dozen houses down.
“Why’s it so damn busy,” I spat out between the tears.
“Neighbours are having a gender reveal party.”
I laughed. “You’re joking.”
Somewhere during the drive, it seems, we had taken a wrong turn into the Matrix.
Both of us are trans, and there I was, falling to pieces over my transition across the street from a gender reveal party. Hit by a leftfield cosmic punchline, I was positively floored.
The meltdown, on the other hand, was no surprise. It had been building most of the day.
Well, since about three in the morning. Well, if we’re being super honest, it’s spent a month dawdling on the back burner, stubborn emotions piled high and desperate to ignite.
Three in the morning was when I brought the kindling, and Jake lit the match in a Walmart. I was out shopping for a swimsuit alongside him, his sister, and her boyfriend.
