As I tried to reorient myself, I realized how much of my angst had emanated from an existential crisis. Not in the clichéd sense that I couldn’t find meaning in my life; rather, that the weight of my choices and responsibilities, combined with a new, sustained confrontation with mortality, was bamboozling. This was a world tilted.

“Living in a world of wonky shirts and jeans and pants that don’t fit a new lower belly makes me feel defeated. My new body also stole all my heels. My new feet only fit my ugliest clunky work shoes and some sneakers. I’m trying to remember that it’s temporary.”