Life is Risk, lean into the risk

It's Christmas Eve. One year ago my house was full: my grown kids were visiting and we were making pizzas, our yearly tradition. This year looks different. The kids have their own lives now, with work and fiancées and families of their own to spend the holiday with, and I'm spending a quiet Christmas Eve on my own. A lot has changed in a year.

So I want to talk about that a little, and how it ties into living authentically.

First, a quote. There is a character in The Expanse book series named Miller. He is about to do something brave, possibly a one-way ticket, and another character tells him, more or less, "You are risking your life," and asks him to consider his options. And he says: "Life IS risk."

OK, the stage is set. Let me share a few odds and ends, and then I'll try to tie this all together.

A week ago I had my first surgery: Thyroid Reduction Chondrolaryngoplasty, also known as a tracheal shave. I was excited because it was the biggest gender-affirming step I had taken, AND it was the result of a lot of personal work: getting the money together, getting the letters, getting the approvals, even finding a doctor, getting time off, and getting it all synchronized. There were multiple setbacks, but I went for it and got it done.

I'll be honest: eight days out, the incision is pretty ugly. I can't lift weights or hit the gym hard for about 30 days, and it takes about a year for the incision to really heal and flatten out, which surprised me. I thought it would heal quicker, be easier. There is nothing easy about surgery.

In the weeks leading up to surgery, I prepared using a "This Is Us" style worst-case-scenario exercise: "OK... well, what if I die on the table?" It was a possibility, so with that in mind I made a will, I talked to my counselor about the risk, and I prepared mentally. I realized that if I died, I wouldn't know it, and as weird as that is, it gave me peace. I looked at it from all angles, I weighed it in my head, and I cried from the weight of it. The night before, I sobbed on the phone. I cried because of the immense pressure of it, the buildup of months of work, and because I was ON MY OWN, with no partner there to hold my hand. But what kept me going was the voice of Miller reminding me: "Life is risk."

OK, next story.

I have also been working on selling my house (which I LOVE), because in my head I can't afford it, and I want to retire in two years and tap out. So I started talking to a realtor, and to be real, half the time their email responses felt like ChatGPT responses (and probably were). I was weighing all the options and asking professional realtors their opinions, and of course their answer was always "sell and buy." Why? Because they make money off me. Period. I was asking the wrong people, LOL.

So I made spreadsheets, ran numbers, looked at the economy, weighed strategies, what-ifs, and risks. But my HEART wants to grow old in this house. I described my problem in a forum, and one person said to me, "You already know what you want, and you deserve to be happy, and you can make it work if you want it to." That stunned me, and again Miller whispered in my ear: "Life is risk..." I made the decision right then and there to keep the house and make it work. Risk it.

Alright, another story.

I am learning that I LOVE not being in a relationship: not having to bend the knee or diminish my elf-lord powers (nod to Tolkien). I can go out on my own to concerts, shows, museums, and sporting events, and I don't need anyone to come with me or be my wing woman (or man) or anything else.

I have grown this year. Like a forest after a wildfire, I'm starting to grow wild again, and life is returning. I am putting up my own art, arranging MY house, transitioning the way I want, being the bad-ass woman I know I am, and every decision is MINE. Period. It's very empowering. And growth is also about risk: risking yourself, showing your true colors, not hiding, being authentic. And there is Miller, reminding me: "Life is risk." And those other great words from poetry: go boldly, and seize the day!

Last one.

I am watching Squid Game seasons 2 and 3 (spoiler alert, sort of). There is a transgender woman who was removed from her military career because she is transgender, and since coming out she has lost her family and her friends, and has had a tough time even getting a job so she can pay for the surgeries she needs. Yet this woman is kind, strong, mentally clear, and engaged, with a strong moral and ethical compass, and if things ever hit the fan, you'd want her on your side.

Watching her, I could relate. Much about her mirrored my life: I also served in the military, lost friends, and dealt with transphobia. She quickly became one of my favorite characters, and honestly one of the BEST transgender portrayals I've seen on any show. In the story she finds herself helping someone else in an impossible situation, yet she does what's right. She starts leading when nobody else will, and she takes risks to help others. And in my head, while I'm watching, I hear Miller's voice: "Life is risk..."

OK, let's close this blog up for the holiday tomorrow.

Right now it's Christmas Eve. I have made a nice dinner for when my son gets home later tonight. I'm healing from my surgery, and I have food prepared for tomorrow's gathering. I'm keeping my @#% house, I'm listening to my audiobooks, and I'm realizing that for the first time in years, I feel content. Happy, and at peace.

I see next year (2026) as a year of hope, explosive growth, more surgeries, working on my career, self-acceptance, loving without judging, and just being AWESOME. I know it's not all going to go smoothly; there are going to be bad moments. But you know what? Life is risk. And I'm going to lean into the risk.