“If one more woman comedian comes up and says to me, ‘You open ed the doors for me …’” Joan says in A Piece of Work , “… you wanna say, ‘go fuck yourself.’ I’m still opening the doors.” Even posthumously, I will not call Joan Rivers a legend or dare suggest that she was a pioneer for funny females because, at the very least, that would be some indefensible “Joan-splaining.” So instead of rotating in one of those tired phrases you’re adorned with moments before you’re buried, I’ll just call her a goddess, a mensch, and a friend. I will miss her terribly.
And yet the agony, the pain, the thoughts the thoughts the thoughts. Get thee away from me Satan. This is impossible, mental illness, suck it up, suffer, you can’t change for a man to a woman. You’re trying to escape, it’s irresponsibility, yes it is Satan or mental illness get those thoughts out of your mind. You’re 45, married, four kids, a law firm, everyone has issues, suck it up. And soon. Because you will lose family and friends, those you’ve known forever. And your clients too. No money nothing. Your entire life will be destroyed. Suck it up.