Mind if I cry a little?

(I originally posted this on Cohost here. I posted it in haste and typed it on my phone so minor grammatical and editorial changes were made to the version below.)

I need to get emotional for a bit because I had a whole cry sesh last night. I mentioned [on other sites] how much XOXO was a struggle, but I should explain myself a bit more.

I struggle with paralyzing social anxiety. Clarity can tell you first hand how bad my emotional breakdowns have been at the mere thought of having to socialize; or talk about myself, or my work; or joyfully engaging with strangers. I suffer massive bouts of inadequacy and knee bursting fear over being seen.

I’m sure numerous people caught a whiff of the enormous “fuck off” vibes I gave at XOXO. If someone started talking to people in my group, I would go instantly silent and physically step off to the side to indicate I was not available to speak. I avoided a lot of intros, I hid in corners, I walked away to get high more than I probably needed to. I am genuinely terrified of interacting with strangers. There are myriad reasons why, but ever since I transitioned, the problem has been wildly exacerbated.

Groups of trans people terrify me. The first three years of my transition were marked by numerous instances of trust erosion and alienation in ways I never imagined possible. I was led into groups of people I thought would understand me, support me, and lift me up, only to have those same people use their collective power to beat me down, cause me to question my own sanity, and otherwise force me to sacrifice my own ethics for those of the collective. Suffice it to say, I neither trust others nor myself out of hand anymore.

But I tried to push myself at XOXO.

I tried to push myself because I hated feeling paralyzed; because my fiance and her partner were being so strong and I knew I could trust them; because I hated the thought of wasting the first con I went to since 2019. I really wanted to do better.

And tbh I did.

I talked to strangers. I had great conversations. Or at least I thought they were great. I met some really beautiful people. They were chill. They were funny. They were interesting. They were passionate and alive and great interlocutors. I was so relieved to feel that raw joy of learning about new people again. I got so swept up in it, that by Saturday’s closing party, I was out of my shell zooming around laughing, singing, and flitting from conversation to conversation.

I got goodbye hugs. I got some contact info. I remembered most people’s names. It felt like I was myself again for the first time in nearly half a decade.

And then it was over.

There’s nothing more paralyzing than having to walk away right when the feeling is at its best. Nothing more taxing to the soul than to feel unresolved about so many things at once.

Did they like me?

Did I embarrass myself?

Did I forget to ask enough questions?

Did I talk too much?

I found myself awash in these anxieties all of Sunday. The sensation of con-drop is an old friend of mine, but it has been a very long time since we’ve talked. I couldn’t handle it.

It was like writing a brilliant story longform on paper only to have someone burn my notebook right before I got to the best part. I finally found the path out of my shell, and right as I reached the light of the outside someone boarded up the exit. I felt robbed. I felt starved. I felt…incomplete.

They say not to cry because it’s over but to smile because it happened. I couldn’t help but do the former anyways. It is over. There is no more XOXO. I missed every single one but the last, and the atmosphere is such that I am not convinced there will be a similar opportunity ever again, which left me with questions.

Will I ever get a chance like that to trust again?

Will any of them remember me the way I remember them?

Will I ever see them again?

Would they want to see me again?

Was this a fluke?

Am I still too scared to trust others?

It feels as if I’ll never get to know the answers.

If we spoke at XOXO; if we swapped info, shared stories; if we so much as made eye contact, please know: you’re beautiful. Meeting you was a kind of joy I haven’t felt in a very long time. I think you’re all so exciting and clever and radiant and I am in awe that you found any value in spending time with me. I will cherish this fragment in time we had together for a while.

I miss you all so much already.

I’m sorry if we didn’t learn enough about each other. I’m sorry if I forgot to ask enough about you (I anxiously start talking about myself a lot as an attempt to relate to things people tell me). I’m sorry we didn’t have more time.

I’m glad I went. I’m elated it happened. That doesn’t change the hurt of it ending. I’m just trying to feel it all. The tears aren’t painful. They’re a sign of healing. Healing you helped me do.

I’ll never forget this gift you all gave me. I hope we meet again.