Back to school / Janitors in pop culture #1

The day before yesterday was my first day back to cleaning up after students.  It was terribly hot and humid (more so in the school than outside) and I promptly got a gross warm-weather cold; all stuffy in the head!  I’m back to working late nights.  Overall, it will be good to get back to it; right now it feels awfully lonely.

As an ode (of sorts) to my co-workers, and working all together this summer, here’s a partial list of the most frequently talked about topics:
– basements / sheds / generators / dehumidifyers
– cell phones / provider plans
– donuts and other snack foods
– retirement
– grilling food / alcoholic beverages / being a host
– “got any weekend plans?” / “how was your weekend?”
– teacher quirks
And not a whole lot else…

The cool thing about having been writing here for over a year is I can go back and find out what I wrote, at this time last year.  Here’s what it was.

I’ve been thinking lately that I’m writing lots about trans and queer identities and experiences (awesome!), but that I’ve been ignoring the other half of my moniker.  So, I’m going to start a new series, from time to time, that highlights portrayals of janitors in movies, TV shows, books, whatever.  I’ve been meaning to do this for a while!

First up:  Good Will Hunting.  1997.  Directed by Gus Van Sant.  Screenplay by Ben Affleck and Matt Damon.

In this movie, Matt Damon plays a bad-ass boy genius working as a janitor at MIT.  He solves an impossible math equation (in secret).  He then is “discovered” by a professor, is forced to see a therapist in order to avoid jail time (for assault – he likes to get into fights), and is trying to find a balance in his life between love, his natural talents, and what he actually wants to do.  (Writing out this summary from memory, the movie sounds so outlandish and absurd.  It’s actually pretty gripping; look out for Robin Williams in one of his more serious roles, as Will’s therapist.  Also look out for an awesome soundtrack by Elliott Smith.)

The first time we see Will, he is mopping a hallway floor.  The movie people might have wanted to get a janitor-consultant for this movie (haha), because he is doing it all wrong.  Will is pulling the mop straight out of the bucket and slopping it all over the floor (without wringing out the excess water ahead of time.)  Completely unrealistic.  Also, the hallway is full of students, which is not an ideal time to pull out the mop.  Talk about slipping all over huge puddles of water en masse!

Hardly working.  Doing math.

Hardly working. Doing math.

Later on in the movie, Will is talking with his therapist, Sean, about careers.  (I’m condensing the dialogue a little, for efficiency.)

Sean: I mean there are guys who work their entire lives laying brick so that their kids 
have a chance at the opportunities you have here.
Will: What's wrong with layin' brick? That's an honorable profession. What's wrong with... 
with fixing somebody's car? Someone can get to work the next day because of me. There's 
honor in that.
Sean: Yeah, there is, Will. There is honor in that.  And there's honor in, you know, 
taking that forty minute train ride so those college kids come in the morning and the 
floors are clean and the wastebaskets are empty. That's real work.

I could be reading too much into it, but  the tone of the therapist’s voice, while delivering that last part, is complete, total snark (his character plays up the snark quite a bit though – to match Will’s tone.)  Basically saying, “just keep sticking to what’s ‘honorable,’ and see how far you get.”

Sometimes, I too talk with my therapist about being a janitor.  She has said, “you are probably the smartest janitor.”  She must not have caught Good Will Hunting, haha.  I’ve conveyed that sometimes I find it totally absurd that this is my job.  (I may not be a bad-ass boy genius, but still, in a lot of ways, “janitor” is a strange fit for me.)

In spite of this, I can easily see myself retiring from this job.  (Retirement at age 55, here I come!)  There is absolutely no “career” I can envision pursuing (I’ve always felt this way.  Maybe that will change with time; I won’t hold my breath.)  I mean, I envision pursuing lots of other endeavors – writing, radio DJ-ing, volunteering in myriad ways, but “janitor” seems as good a way as any to actually make money…

 

Party, vacation, and TERFs

My partner and I made it through this party I’d been half-dreading, a party to celebrate our prior unification ritual.  It was a lot of things, but largely, it felt validating and joyous, in a chaotic sort of way.  It was fun; we would not do it again!  It was a different kind of experience for me; I was on a natural high for so long, it was starting to get tedious.  I mean, I’ve had a lot of extreme highs and lows in moods, over much longer periods of time, but this was somehow different.  Somehow much less scary.  I felt confident that even though I felt this way, I could depend on myself to do whatever it was I needed to do.  It was a high that was not really all that fun, in its duration.  Maybe I am growing up.

High extended roughly, from Thursday (kicking the planning for Saturday into high-gear,) till Tuesday (by then, we were in Northampton, MA for the start of our vacation, and the long drive to get there felt like it happened in a snap.)  I wasn’t hungry; I wasn’t sleeping well.  I was able to just keep going and going and going regardless.  I didn’t particularly feel euphoric or excited (I mean, I did at times, but not sustained.)  I basically started feeling like all I wanted was to get a full night’s sleep, an entire meal in my stomach, and to come down from wherever up-in-the-clouds I was.

CelebrationWOn our vacation, we stopped through Northampton and Spencer, MA before heading up to a tiny town (talking about a town with a church and a convenience store.  No gas station.) in central Maine.  We stayed with two friends who have an awesome cabin they’ve basically created themselves, over the past 10 years.  It sits on 50 acres of land, and they live there part time.  We went blueberry picking (organic!  $1.50/lb!!!), swimming in a very cold lake (when the air temp + rain hitting lake was even colder), trouncing through the woods a bit.  We kicked back, did some reading, connected with our friends, and heard stories about / met some of their neighbors.

At a rest stop on the way up there, I did an awkward dance with an older woman over the fact that I was in the women’s bathroom.  She spun around to walk back out and check if she was in the right one, sort of touching my shoulder to prevent a collision between us, saying she’s checking that this is the right bathroom.  I smiled and said, “Yep, it is.”  This, surprisingly, does not happen to me often at all.  I can’t even remember the last time.  I enjoyed the experience (since it wasn’t threatening or uncomfortable, was in a way validating.)

On our way back home, we stopped to stay in a tree-house!  IMG_0969And on our way from Maine to this tree-house, my partner read aloud an article from the August 4, 2014 edition of the New Yorker (p.24 – “What is a Woman?  The Dispute Between Radical Feminism and Transgenderism”).  I’ve never picked up a New Yorker before.  (I think maybe my partner hasn’t either, because she commented, “There are a lot of comics in here!”  Haha.)  It had been given to us by our friend in Maine, because she knew we’d be interested in this one article.

Imagine driving on winding roads through rural VT, rain coming down, having previously been bored out of my gourd, tired of our musical selections.  And suddenly being fully engaged in this topic that seemingly came out of nowhere (I mean, I know it came from the New Yorker; I just mean I wasn’t prepared for it, but it surely was a much needed distraction right then.)  At various points, I interrupted my partner to argue passionately both with the article itself and with the radical feminists the article was about.

Some of the gists:

– Not all, but some radical feminists still feel that transwomen are not women and will never be women (and that they benefit from male privilege…?).  These rad-fems continue to want to exclude transwomen from women-only spaces, and to invalidate their experiences in numerous other ways.  They reject the notion that someone could feel intrinsically female or male, and that all the ways that women and men are different are due to sociological forces and learned experiences only.

– The common term for these rad-fems is TERF (trans-exclusionary radical feminists).

– Some TERFs are detransitioners, and TERFs often cite detransition as proof of the fallibility of transgenderism.  (Expert reports state that the percent of people who detransition is somewhere between 1% and 5%.  This is higher than I would guess, but hardly significant enough to attempt to build a case.)

– Some TERFs face threats, both in their personal and professional lives.  Situations have become so escalated at times, that they must be escorted by security to events and go underground in their academics.

There was so much more to this article (such as why FTMs are OK, but MTFs are a threat -???  Maybe I’ll return to the article for a more in depth future post); I highly recommend seeking it out if you can.  It was eye-opening for me because even though I’ve heard of this term (TERFs) and understand the basics of the arguments, this really painted a picture.  On the one hand, TERFs’ arguments are terribly weak and seem fueled by fear and a lack of understanding, with no efforts to begin understanding.

On the other hand, I find myself empathizing (just a little.)  “TERF” is not a self-describing term.  It is essentially yet one more slur, coming from others in sexual/gender minorities – people all too familiar with slurs themselves, usually.  These women have fought passionately (sometimes for decades and decades, creating groundbreaking groundwork) for changes in the view of what it means to be a woman, and now they’re kinda in over their heads here.  One final passage from the article that really sums up how this sub-group of rad-fems must feel,

“[These] radical feminists find themselves in a position that few would have imagined when the conflict began:  shunned as reactionaries on the wrong side of a sexual-rights issue.  It is, to them, a baffling political inversion.”

 

 


Good doctor news

Three months ago, I finally found a good doctor, but I was unsure if I’d be able to keep her.  I liked her style immediately – ability to communicate, upbeat and straightforward manner, etc.  And I liked her entire office’s professionalism.  However, she had no trans-related experience, and after I told her my reasons for being there, she seemed hesitant to keep me on as a patient.  She said she would look into finding a specialist I could go to, or at the very least, that she could consult with before proceeding.  In my head, I was thinking, “Good luck with finding people locally!  How do you think I ended up here, with you?!!”  Haha.

We had a follow-up appointment yesterday.  Going into it, I wasn’t sure if she was just going to say, “So I’m going to refer you to so-and-so,” and I’d have to start all over again with someone new.  I was nervous; I didn’t want that.  I had convinced myself, to an extent, that that was what was going to happen.

If you’re interested in reading through this epic journey to find a new doctor, here’s where I’ve been, in backwards order:

From 3 months ago, Convincing doctors that hormones are not that complicated
From 5 months ago, The last time I saw my doctor / I like your product
From 6 months ago, Continued quest to find a new doctor (a good fit?)
And from 7 months ago, just simply, I need to get a new doctor

At the appointment, we first discussed the fact that I went to the eye doctor, and that my vitamin D is low and I need to get supplements, and then finally discussed the reasons I’m there.  She said she did find two area specialists (one is an LGBTQ health center I’d rather not go through, and the other is an endocrinologist who focuses on adult health – good to know there is someone local, and that she uncovered him!)  She continued to tell me she does not think it’s necessary for me to go through either of these channels unless I want to, and that she will continue seeing me for low-dose testosterone therapy.  I was super happy but didn’t really let on.  I did tell her I am glad I can keep coming to see her though.  And that I don’t feel like I need to go to these other people unless something comes up.

I wonder what happened within that 3 month time span!  I think she did some research.  Or, in the process of reaching out to specialists, they conveyed to her that it was within her realm and abilities.  And then she did some research.  Something!

We discussed the labs I got done in May.  My T levels were at 68 ng/dl.  This surprised me quite a bit – previously, I was at 102 ng/dl.  I had somehow, without changing a thing, dipped back into a normal female range.  How does that work?

I know I should go by how I’m feeling, and not by numbers.  BUT – is it just a coincidence that I increased my testosterone dosage 2 months ago, just kinda because?  Because I felt like it?  Hmmm.  I’m super curious to know what my levels are now, accounting for the slight increase…  I’ll find out in 3 more months… (More labs.)

Until then, I just wanna revel in the fact that I finally have a primary care physician I would feel comfortable going to for any issue that comes up with my body, trans-related or not.  This is a first!

 


Words we use to describe ourselves

I recently mentioned an article called “A Gender Not Listed Here:  Genderqueers, Gender Rebels, and OtherWise,” which is based on findings from a survey conducted in 2008.  One of the most intriguing points to come from that (in my opinion) was all of the unique words and phrases respondents came up with to describe their gender.  Some of those were:  “jest-me,” “twidget,” “best of both,” “gender blur,” “cyborg,” and “genderqueer wombat fantastica.”

I also mentioned I had a list somewhere, where I had jotted down other terms.  I found that list!  So, to expand upon what respondents said:

  • a variation of nature
  • hybrid
  • pangender
  • ftx
  • tranarchist
  • and my favorite so far, “freemale.”

Also recently, Micah posted an ongoing poll which is generating a lot of great responses, as well.  A few faves from that, so far:

  • maverique
  • limp-wristed butch
  • boything
  • gender-meh
  • Alien Space Prince
  • fae
  • Royalty
  • kinda like an old, beaten-in sneaker
  • boydyke
  • feyboi
  • plastic
  • epicene

This language is so important.  Even if this is only how you see yourself internally, and you’d never actually use these words when you talk about yourself to others, the personal meaning behind it is rich with feelings of who we are, at our core.

As we try to sort out our identities, it is an amazing gift to have these options, all these creative bursts of self-expression, on hand for inspiration.  Looking back roughly 12 years ago, when I was first considering the nuances of gender identitiy, I started to learn of the terms “butch,” “transgender,” “genderqueer,” and not a whole lot more.  I remember someone referring to me as a “baby dyke” (because I’m so not butch), and that seemed maybe about right, but actually, no not really at all.  At the time, I thought I felt like neither gender, like there was a void where there should be gender.  I’ve come across dozens of ways to describe this experience lately, but at the time, I struggled with describing what that was, even if just to myself.

These days, I do not feel devoid of gender.  The way I replied to Micah’s survey was, “A kaleidoscope of all genders.”  That feels exactly right.  It feels like a rich mixture, flowing through my being, and constantly shifting internally, but held together by a relatively stagnant vessel (my body).  I mean, my body is in motion, but it’s not changing as much as many people who are trans.  Nor does my gender expression shift much.  It’s an internal feeling.

I wanna recommend this blog post, from a mother’s perspective.  She showed her son Micah’s question about how you describe your gender and they talked about some of people’s responses.  And it really seemed to open something up for him.  This is the kind of stuff we need!

Got descriptive words to add?  Join the conversation!

 


Gender identity related “to-do list”

About a month ago, I switched my Androgel dosage slightly.  From one pump of 1% daily to one pump of 1.62% daily.  I didn’t do this because I’m looking for more masculinizing changes.  (I’m not looking for this, still.)  I did it for these reasons:

  • I started on 1.62% initially, so I still had extra bottles of it.  I hate wasting things.
  • I have been told by pharmacists, twice, that 1% is going to be discontinued, and I should get my doctor to switch my prescription to 1.62%.  I’ve even been given coupon incentives to switch to 1.62%.  I think that the pharmacists are lying to me, and I will continue to ask for 1% until I absolutely cannot get it any longer.  It really freaked me out though, so I want to “test out” whether I’d be alright on 1.62% in case I abruptly need to switch in the future.
  • I’ve been feeling low, emotionally, and somewhat anxious.  I was hoping a slight increase might help jump-start me out of this funk.  (This has not happened, unfortunately.  I fully expect to be back to my normal self once summer is over though.)
  • My biggest reservation in increasing to this dosage, was my voice dropping.  That seemed like the one change that was on the precipice to shift, and I was really resistant to that for a very long time.  (Over a year.)  I continually brought it up in therapy.  (Her responses:  “Why?  Because you depend on your voice for x, y, and z?”  “Why?  Because you need your vocal range to stay exactly the same?”  “Why?  Because your singing range is of utmost importance?”  Etc.  Haha.)  For whatever reason, I’ve been letting go of that.  It’s no longer a worry.  And I’m fairly sure my “voice” is largely the same still, while my vocal range has indeed shifted, if that makes sense.

Another big change to highlight in my gender identity journey:

I finally came out to all of my extended family, on both my mom and dad’s side of the family.  I did this through emails.  (I’ve talked with my nuclear family in person.)  I largely did this because in some cases, I hadn’t shared anything personal about myself in a very long time, if ever (the fact that I’m in a relationship, the fact that we got married, etc.)  So it seemed like in sharing long-overdue news, I might as well throw in this other important-to-me stuff.  In other cases, I was inviting relatives to our having-gotten-married party (happening in 2 days!), and I needed them to know these things about me in advance.

Almost everyone at the party will be referring to me using male pronouns (my friends have been consistently doing this for years now which feels awesome), and I wanted those who didn’t know, to at least know.  I shared that I don’t feel either male nor female.  I shared that I’ve been on a low-dose of testosterone, and what that’s doing for me specifically.  I shared that my partner and I don’t use the terms “lesbians,” “wife,” etc. to refer to ourselves.  I shared that I prefer male pronouns, and I may legally change my name in the near future.  I welcomed any questions.

The most common response I got was:  no response.  Which is OK.  A few people replied in affirming ways, acknowledged what I’d told them, and that felt so awesome.  No one had any questions.  No one disparaged me or said anything inflammatory or negative.  None of the responses (or non-responses) surprised me.  None of this process changed the way I relate to my family.  In some ways, I’d like to change the way I relate to my family.  I would like to be closer with them.  But I’m not going to put all the pressure on the coming out process as a way to get me there…  If I did, everything would fall flat.

Next up on my gender-identity related to-do list:  come out at work.  YIKES!

Also, just a note:  I’ll be on a “true vacation” next week – one devoid of using the computer!!!  I’m psyched about this (and kinda really need it), but I will surely miss keeping up on blogs (it’s become a major part of my daily routine.)  I have a post scheduled, but other than that, I won’t be around for a while…


A note to my partner

This is probably going to come off as the most unromantic love note ever.  That’s OK.  That’s us!  …We have been together for close to 8 years now.  We lived together before we “got together.”  We met as housemates, which was kinda an interesting way to get to know someone (if you’re considering asking them out) in terms of feeling out potential compatibility.  A more detailed version of how we got together is here, if you’re interested:  Happy Randomtimes, today.

Last fall, we got legally married, which I had a lot of mixed feelings about.  It boils down to:  We got married for health insurance purposes (and other legal reasons that seem unclear at this time, but may be super important at later times).  We did not get married out of love.  Every day we are together, it is out of love.  Marriage has absolutely nothing to do with whether we are together or not.  It does not mean we are any more or less likely to stay together now.  It doesn’t mean that anything about how we operate our relationship has changed.  Marriage is meaningless.  So I guess I’m attempting to bring some meaning into it, because next Saturday, we are celebrating the fact that we got married.

I haven’t been in the best place, emotionally, the past few weeks, and that’s been making it feel like a struggle, to plan for this celebration.  Which is OK.  This party will happen.  It’s normal to feel overwhelmed and nervous when planning something so big.  Everything does not need to fall into place exactly how we want it to for it to be a good day.  It’s going to be a good day because we are connecting with people and with each other.  And not because the sound system worked without a hitch and no plates or glasses got broken.

But there’s kinda more to it than that.  We are celebrating marriage, and I’m struggling to understand what marriage is.  (Marriage is what you make it.)  Almost anything that is traditionally romantic, anything that is a traditional ritual for a wedding day, the roles we play… I don’t get it.  It’s not because I’m a contrarian or I’m “too cool for school.”  It just does not resonate.  I don’t wanna play those games.  In general, we won’t be.  We’re having a “ceremony,”  (er, 2 actually, an opening and a closing ceremony) but it will be fairly aberrant, bent, queer, variant, deviant.  We have no gift registry.  Our photo album is full of pictures of our friends and families.  Scrap the scrap book, and the guest book while you’re at it.  I could go on…

We’re discussing the idea of slow dancing to “Everyday is Halloween,” (Not because we wanna stir shit up, but just because that has been our wake-up alarm song every morning for about 5 years now.)  I love all of these ideas, but I’m still not comfortable playing the role of the person who is getting married (or already got married, and is now on display.)  In a way, it feels like the party was just an idea a while back, and now has a life of its own.  I think collecting some of these thoughts is really going to help me out.

So a note, to my partner:

Hey, you!  I like you a lot.  I trust you as much as one person can trust another person.  As time goes on, I just keep finding that we are super highly compatible.  You give me huge amounts of space and leeway to be myself, to figure out what I want/need, to experiment.  I couldn’t be in a relationship any other way.  I know that I often hold myself back, so I cannot be having someone else also doing that.

It feels like we’re generally in-tune, in-synch, we communicate about what is going on, regularly.  And if we aren’t, we will be again soon – I don’t feel left in the dark for long.  And if I do, it is not worrisome.  We’ll catch up with each other soon enough.  I know I’m a difficult person, sometimes.  I can be moody, and I generally need a shit-ton of alone time, in order to feel like a person.  I make things complicated when they are simple.  That’s not easy to live with.  You just roll with it.

I think that you are so super cool.  You are a strong person with values I really admire.  You stand up for yourself and for what you think is right.  You’re not afraid of confrontation.  You mold your life into what you want.  We’re molding our lives together, continuously.

Love, me.

PS- At my most recent therapy appointment, I just kept crying and crying (that I couldn’t do this marriage party thing, basically).  She suggested I write on my blog, where I’m comfortable, about it, before I’m in this less-than-comfortable situation.  That perked me up.  I said, “That’s a pretty good idea.”  She replied, “That might be it for me – I might not have any more of those; I’ll take it.”  I reiterated it was a really good idea.  Also, at the end of the appointment, she told me it was a freebie – a therapist’s version of a wedding gift.  Haha.

 


“A Gender Not Listed Here”

I attended the Philadelphia Trans-Health Conference back in mid-June and wrote a summary of the workshops I made it to, but I left out the details of one workshop because I felt it warranted a post all to itself.  I stumbled into “A Gender Not Listed here” late Saturday afternoon, feeling a little bit drained, but excited about the topic, which was going to be a summary and discussion of an article that was published in April, 2012.  The information was based on findings of a study completed by the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force and the National Center for Transgender Equality in 2008.  It surveyed 6,450 T-GNC-GQ  (transgender, gender non-conforming, genderqueer) individuals from all 50 states, the District of Columbia, Puerto Rico, Guam, and the U.S. Virgin Islands.  It is by far the largest sample size of this population to date.

(The presenters commented that they got a lot of flak from peers ahead of time – their colleagues thought it was foolish to put forth a 70 question survey, claiming people would not fill it out in its entirety.  To then see the number of completed surveys that came back is really a testament to how much this community craves to be heard, to share their thoughts, opinions, and identities.)

So, to reiterate, the survey was for anyone who identifies as transgender / gender non-conforming.  Question #3 of the survey asked, “What is your primary gender identity today?  1.Male/man, 2.Female/woman, 3.Part time as one gender, part time as another, 4.A gender not listed here, please specify _________”  This workshop honed in on the 13.3% of people who answered question #3 of the survey with option #4.  Most of the data was about how this statistically relates to other factors such as age, ethnicity, education, region, household income, and discriminatory factors (employment, health and health care, violence, etc.)

It was totally eye opening!  I had no idea this data has been out there, for a couple of years now.  Even just the knowledge that about 13% of people who identify as transgender also identify as neither male nor female (or living part time as such) is mind-blowing.  Not mind-blowing as in it’s surprisingly lower or surprisingly higher than I might have imagined (it’s not).  But mind-blowing as in there actually is a statistical estimate out there, at least for the US.  And why is this study not more widely known?!!

I’m not going to pick apart all the details of the statistical analyses, but I hope you might want to take a glance.  Here is a summary of the report, broken down really nicely:  Check out this modified version!

If you’re feeling ambitious and want to read the full 12 page report, it is here:  Genderqueers, Gender Rebels, and OtherWise!

A general overview might go something like this:  Those people who wrote in their own gender tend to be younger, more educated, less financially stable, and less likely to live in the midwest or south, and less likely to be white than their transgender counterparts.  Also, it has been determined that:

Despite their resilience and ability to define themselves in broader terms and to hold [different] ideas of identity in mind than conventional notions, overall Q3GNL participants face greater discrimination, risk, and violence than their transgender counterparts in most of the survey categories.”

Of course factors of privilege come into play, and it’s so convoluted to suss out what factors may lead to or predict other factors.  It’s simply a large data set from which future research can build from.  That’s part of the beauty of it – this information is public.  So, for example, if you’re a grad student who needs a thesis topic, or you’re just really good at stats and have lots of free time on your hands, there is plenty of work still to be done and conclusions to draw from the raw data.  Hopefully many will work with it in the future.

One other interesting point to highlight is word choice:  Since the question made room to fill in the blank, the range of terms for self-expression ended up being huge.  39% of Q3GNL participants wrote in “genderqueer,” 9.5% wrote in “both/neither, in-between, or non-binary,” 2.2% wrote “fluid.” …

16.8% chose another term all together, and that generated a list of over 100 unique words / phrases, including “jest-me,”twidget,” “best of both,” “gender blur,” “cyborg,” and “genderqueer wombat fantastica” hahaha.  I know I wrote down a list of a lot more, at the conference.  The presenters did a powerpoint presentation and the slide with all these identity ideas generated a lot of discussion.  As soon as I find that list, I will post whatever else it was that I wrote down.

Feels like I wanna get more creative with how I might describe myself!


Why I’ve been writing here

Today is the day I’ve been writing on this blog for one year.  And… I really don’t see an end in sight – it doesn’t feel like I’ll be running out of steam any time soon.  I’m gonna hope that this is true!

There are a bunch of reasons I started and a bunch of reasons I keep going.  Some of them include:

  • I’m an exhibitionist, in a sense.
  • I really really really enjoy writing.  And ideas keep popping in my head.
  • The more I put into this, the more I get out of it.  That has not been the case for a lot of endeavors I’ve undertaken.
  • I’ve really been enjoying reading blogs by like-minded (and different-minded) individuals on a variety of topics, but mostly blogs about being queer and/or trans* in some way or form.  The blogs I read help keep me going.
  • It has helped me hone my writing / find a voice.  I’ve had pieces accepted for 2 anthologies this year (the process of editing and publishing is currently ongoing), and I’m working on a proposal for a 3rd piece.
  • I want to continue contributing to a body of information that is pretty obscure and hard to find, at least at this time.

Before starting this blog, I was writing epic emails to my therapist, generally on a weekly basis.  For over a year and a half.  I’m talking really really long emails.  Although she always read them – and we often talked about them – she would never reply to me.  She would also sometimes downplay how important they felt to me, referring to them as “notes,” when I would have chosen the phrase, “an outpouring of my soul,” haha.

I rarely ever write to her anymore (sometimes I cut and paste from my blog in an email to her, or ask her to look at a specific post).  I think I was relying on her to fulfill this really specific need (collecting and organizing thoughts through writing, knowing someone’s reading those thoughts), and I’ve shifted it all into this incredible, creative outlet.  She’s probably relieved about it – I know I kinda am, haha.

Before this, I’d never had a blog in such a public way.  I’d had private online “diaries” and mostly “friends only” online journals when I was younger, just about life in general.  But I’d never put this much about myself out into the internet in any shape, previously (my Facebook info and involvement is super sparse, for example).  Sometimes I’ve second-guessed myself.  Sometimes I’ve worried if so-and-so will find this, etc.  But overall, those fears are quickly drowned out by all the positives.  And ultimately, the type of anonymity / level of being out there publicly feels like it’s right where I wanna be.

To many more years!

 

 

 


Happy pride weekend

I know that pride month is long over, and it would appear I’m quite a bit behind, but this actually is when Pride happens in our city.  I’d been having a glum summer so far, and this day really helped lift my spirits.  My partner and I marched in the parade with the local gay alliance (the one I’ve been doing office volunteer work with, since January).

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I woke up early to help create 8 balloon “backpacks” to be worn at the parade.  I didn’t end up claiming one to wear, so my partner and I decided to create our own balloon backpacks, you know, so we would fit in better.

As we marched, I seriously could feet the pride sinking in, for real.  The parade followed a new route this year, and it was a definite improvement.  Lots of people cheering, protesters much less prominent (for whatever reason.)  My partner and I held hands for a while!  I said hi to and hugged other people I knew from the alliance.  It feels super great to know I’m starting to become more connected to this community, a little bit.

helping someone put on their balloon "backpack" while wearing my own!

helping someone put on their balloon “backpack” while wearing my own!

At the burrito place after LOTS of walking.

We went to a burrito place after the parade.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This was not my first time marching in the parade, not by a long shot.  But it was my first time marching with a group, legit.  For about 7 years straight, I would merge in with the parade to do my own thing, sometimes with my partner and friends, sometimes just with my drag buddy.  In my own way, I was protesting the fact that groups have to pay for a spot.  I strongly felt that, even though I didn’t belong to a group, I belonged in the parade.  It was always kinda chaotic.  Frenzied, manic energy (sort of forced, sometimes).

We walked with boomboxes playing our fave song (not the club hits.)  We rode our bikes.  We handed out flyers for radical queer reading groups, for performance nights, for the anarchist community space.  We gave away candy and hugs.  We hoola-hooped, danced, ALWAYS created huge gaps between ourselves and those in front of us (accidentally) because we were interacting with the crowds so much which caused us to delay walking forward, haha.  At some point, it started to feel exhausting, but I kept thinking I had to keep doing it – it was a tradition.  Last year, I let myself off the hook, didn’t even attend.  This year, we’re figuring out different ways to do it.  It felt pretty great.

I read some reflections on Pride this past month – that it’s corporate, that it’s not inclusive, that it’s not worthwhile or necessary any longer.  If, by chance you do feel this way, next year, consider making Pride your own by merging into the thick of it, or streaking through the middle of it, and giving voice to whatever it is you feel you want to say.  Be the people you feel you’re not seeing!

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Getting slammed by visions of violence

Trigger warning:  violent imagery (as the title suggests).

Last week, I was in high stress mode.  It’s due to an annual drastic change in my work schedule (and really no other reasons, as far as I know about.  I mean, I have other stressors going on, but nothing I can’t usually handle.)  This happens every single year, and it really affects how I engage with summer.  I can always predict it; simultaneously, I always conveniently forget how extreme it gets.

I wrote what follows last week, when I was in the thick of it.  And then I just sat on it, because I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to post it.  Partially because it’s a departure from what I usually write about.  Now that I’m feeling better, I find that, yes, I’ll post it.  So, here’s what I wrote, only slightly edited:

My mind’s reaction to long-term stress is terrifying to me.  I continue to wonder if this is really just how it is. (Why can’t I just grow out of this???).  Some people get stress-induced migraines or upset stomachs or struggle with insomnia.  Anything like that is, without a doubt, difficult to deal with.  In a big way, I am glad I am not afflicted with those stress-responses.  In some way though, a part of me wishes for something like that instead,  but only because it’s relate-able and I’d probably feel like I could talk about it with others.  “My stomach is in knots thinking about what I have to do.”  Or, “I’m losing sleep over this.”  These phrases are super common.

When I get stressed out for long enough, it feels like my brain is rotting away.  I lose brain functioning (not a figure of speech – my cognitive abilities actually suffer in some big ways.)  But more than this:  It feels as if my brain has turned against me; I am bombarded by visions – images of violence being inflicted upon me.  I do not know what I can do.  I can distract myself.  I can try stress reduction techniques.  I can (and do) follow through with inflicting pain on myself in an attempt to stop the visions.  None of these things have ever worked too well when I’m actually in it.  When I was younger, I was “in it” on-and-off for years and years and years.  It would become intolerable.  It’d be beyond intolerable, but, of course, I had to keep waking up and living it, over and over again because there’s no getting away from your own mind.

Often, my brain would feel so rotten that I couldn’t read, I couldn’t make sense of things on TV or in movies.  I couldn’t talk to people or follow a conversation.  Eventually I couldn’t do any schoolwork at all.  (And it wasn’t about concentration, which is a common issue with people who are depressed.  It was specifically that synapses seemingly disintegrated.)  I made it through because luckily I had a therapist at home and a therapist at school, and they helped advocate for me to get accommodations I needed to not flunk or drop out of college.  I felt like dropping out.  I “got by” with very high grades, because I couldn’t have lived with myself with anything less.  ???  Does this make any sense at all?  I was barely functioning, yet I somehow ended up with very high marks.  If my grades had ended up slipping, I would have been even more abusive to myself.  Maybe the people around me could sense that.

Somehow, I could still write, surprisingly eloquently.  Although, it was limited to journal-style writing, not academic-style writing.  Like what I’m doing right now.  When I can’t seem to do anything else.

I get barraged with images spanning from mild (such as my face being slapped or my skin being cut) to morbid (such as being hacked away at with an axe.  Or my head being whacked repeatedly with a 2×4.  Or falling and hitting my head so hard that I pass out.  Or my neck being held down as I am whipped over and over and over again.)  These images are never sexual.  They are disturbing and unwanted.  I seem to have no control over them.

I have heard of some people struggling with urges to actively do something they do not actually want to do.  Like inflicting pain onto someone else.  Or stepping off the subway platform in front of a subway.  Or driving their car off the road and down a steep ravine.  There is an excellent graphic novel I would highly recommend that is largely about this compulsion.  It’s called The Nao of Brown.  What I’m talking about is so similar, yet strikingly different.  I am never the one in control.  I’m not harming anyone else or actively harming myself.  It is always an anonymous person outside the visual frame, inflicting violence on me.  I’m the object; I’m looking at myself.

Last week I told my therapist, “whoever made brains needs to try again.”