Five Years

falling in love all over again

February 10, 2026.

My yearly anniversary.

It’s been five years since February 10, 2021. That’s a long, long time.

Could I have predicted how much things would change for me? Almost certainly not.

What started as something precarious, something unknown and fraught with risk, ended up being (at the time) the best decision I could ever make. Wresting control of my narrative from the hands of circumstance, employing what little agency I could in my own life 32 years in, remains one of my pinnacle achievements in hindsight.

Especially in hindsight.

And now here I am… 5 years. A woman. Almost boringly so. The shine and gleam of achieving new milestones long worn away, my life settled into comfortable, familiar grooves. Living is just… a thing.

I’d be lying if I said that the circumstances of the world did not bother me. Every single day I’m bombarded from afar by a news cycle that wants me clenched in fear, refreshing and clicking for their machine. And I resist, I keep it all at arm’s length with the help of a wonderful, intentional therapist.

Truth be told it’s not so hard to resist these days, you know. Because for all the time I’ve waxed poetic about only being able to fall in love once, I think I’ve managed to stumble into it again.

I just didn’t expect the person I’d fall in love with would be myself, and a sport.

Ever since my relationship ended two years ago I’ve been struggling on some level to find my place. I’ve made friends, people have stepped into my life and stepped out, but everything had started to bleed together. I’ve found plenty of people agreeable enough, people with enough shared experiences and intellectual meat on the bone to be good company for a night here and there, but… I’ve not been close to people in a good long while.

Writing those words hurts a little, if I’m being honest. I’ve been happy, happier at least, than I was when I was with Alex. But my closest friends are further afield than I would like, my closest people separated from me by hundreds of miles.

But for the first time in awhile I can feel that shifting.

Transition has been easy and hard, up and down. But it’s always been worth it, and this new corner I’ve turned has shown me that things can still somehow get better. Even in the face of the world turning its ugliest gaze upon me, it can still get better.

When I step on the ice, the world melts away. In just a few days I’m flying to Washington to play in an outdoor tournament; I’m a part of Team Trans. The fact that this is happening, coinciding with five years of transition, is exhilarating and exhausting and crazy.

In a way, it’s like a quiet little version of the Olympics going on concurrently. I’m representing my community playing a sport I love, and then in two weeks I do it all over again, this time in the SAP Center in San Jose.

NHL ice. Me, skating on it, playing hockey.

It boggles the mind.

And I haven’t talked at all about the friends I’ve made. The teams I’m a part of, even the temporary season-long ones, the people I’ve met. I’ve plucked wonderful people out of that churning sea bubbling around me, and I feel a sense of belonging, of community, that I haven’t felt in the general local trans community.

I’m hoping the next few years as I continue to improve I can pay it forward. I want to share my newfound love, the sport, with other people. I’m always drawn to building things, bringing people together. I’m having ideas and desires forming around getting a local pond hockey rules scrimmage at one of the rinks; some of the local dolls want to skate.

We’ll see. There are hockey players among them, I am sure of it.

To the girl who started this five years ago:

Thank you. You did so fucking good for yourself and I’m so fucking proud of you. You’re doing everything you’ve ever wanted, and even more that you didn’t know you wanted besides. I love you, Elaine, and I will continue to love you and believe in you. It’s our future now.

The last five years were beautiful.

The next five are going to be even better.

-e