T Report – Day 1 & 2

Warning: The 4th paragraph of this post contains TMI and reader discretion is advised. Specifically, if I’m a blood relative of yours or if you have the power to evaluate my academic output, you should skip paragraph number 4, but the rest of the post is ok.
I woke up yesterday morning feeling really good. Surprisingly really good because by posterior had been sore all night, but whether from injection or clenching in response to said injection, I didn’t know. When I woke in the morning I felt happy and just good. I was really aware of my skin – how it felt against the bed sheets and how it was just nice.
Normally, I spend a lot of time in my head, but didn’t feel that way at all. I tried describing it to Nicole and she teased me, saying I sounded high. I did have the sort of grounded feeling I got once in a great while from pot, but I was as smart as normal, as far as I know.
[The warning up top was about this paragraph, which, alas, is not really all that graphic.] Then my cursed Aunt Flo arrived. I’ve been been fretting about being disowned by relatives, but this is one I expect and hope to lose. But she was due and not going to be deterred so quickly. So I went from feeling really good to feeling really weird. I mean I guess it was all perfectly normal. Except that my circumstances now are rather odd and it seemed weird for being so normal.
[We now return to normal content.] I spent time peering into the mirror, but off course, it’s much too soon. Still, I think my face might be slightly more square? It’s normal for face shape to change with hormone shifts and it’s one of the very subtle ways that women advertise fertility. So it’s not impossible, just extremely subtle and possibly imagined. This morning, Nicole said that my chin felt stubbly, but that’s entirely unlikely.
I got a glimpse of myself this afternoon and really saw a squarer jaw and felt a bit unnerved. It’s all so very early, though, that I could just stop if I realized I was on the wrong track and any changes would slip back or be entirely unnoticeable to others. Nicole said she couldn’t see any changes, aside from the stubble she insists is sprouting. Aside from that one disconcerting moment, I’ve been feeling really happy. I feel comfortable in my skin.
I hung out with a friend from my undergrad days and she said I was like my old self – like myself 10 years ago. Indeed, I feel better than I’ve felt since before I started taking zoloft, since before I started needing zoloft, since before my life became a series of mixed blessings and working through things. Sophie, my friend, said “it’s ironic that taking T would make you more like yourself.” But it’s not ironic at all. It’s the dominant narrative: “This is who I’ve always been, but now visible.”
My murdered-by-zoloft mojo is back in working order. I’m a happy camper. Also, a sleepy camper. I’ve been sleeping a lot, but it could just be the rain.