Five days of Compression
I've been thinking about the difference between caring for someone and caring about someone. Nuance's in language, maybe, but hear me out.
My roommate's care for me. They generally want the best for me, they want to spend time with me. Pete and Tina are supportive of my transition.
My wolfpack cares about me. They do all of the above, but they take into consideration all of the facets of me. Eric does not shame me for my social anxiety, and Neesh remembers that I need binder breaks.
Which brings me to how I got to this distinction.
My roommates, my wolfpack...they both know of my trans-man status, my pre-op body. And yet, I spent over 120 hours with my ribs being compressed because my roommates didn't seem to remember that I need night space. When I confided to Dani, whom we were staying with, that I was uncomfortable with the prospect of no binder breaks, she patted my back and assured me that someday, I wouldn't need to think about binder breaks. And while that's true and ever so special, it kind of just dismisses what we're currently talking about...the current, present need that is NOT GOING AWAY.
It's an event like this that tells me what needs I can and cannot bring up, or at least gives me an idea of which of my needs are considered valid.
