I have had a difficult time working out my emotions these past few months. The best I could come up with was general feelings of growing unease, anxiety, and depression though I was unable to express just why this was happening.

At first I thought it was PTSD and all of the issues which arise out of it, (and it was to a certain degree.) Another issue has been my physical transition, which has gone nowhere. Looking at my reflection has the same face staring back and to be honest, I have come to hate it more than words can express. Of course this is a result of my lack of resources which also affects other aspects of transitioning.

This next one hit me square in the face earlier this week and has pretty much derailed any thoughts of seeking to transition at all.

It’s having proper identification. Drivers License, credit/debit cards, birth certificate, and Social Security number with the correct picture, name, and sex marker. As with medication and lab fees, these take time and money I simply do not have, nor is there a prospect of getting anything in the foreseeable future.

Which means quite simply, I have no path forward which will amount to anything meaningful.

Learning from the Teduray people: Valuing self-determination

Learning from the Teduray people: Valuing self-determination

Sass Rogando Sasot writes about “learning to ground my advocacy in the vocabulary rooted in the culture of our people.” As such, “I am mentefuwaley libun. I am a transpinay. And I stand in solidarity with my mentefuwaley sisters and brothers and the rest of the Teduray people in their strug-gle for the recognition of their identity, culture, and the full inclusion of their rights,” she says.


A long time ago, far from here, I sat alone in a dark room wondering if I could walk outside and into a crowded space and (with a little effort) be seen as a woman. After countless years and too many stutters and stops, I finally learned the answer.

Until that moment I thought I would be content with whatever answer life had to give me and maybe for a short time I was. 

Not any more and I find myself asking why? Why can’t I be content as I am now? Why do I seem to always be looking for something more?

I’ve spoken to several people who know me well, asking them if they think I can maintain things as they stand.. 

If I can let things go, to no longer question anything related to my gender, to who I really am, (as if I have really had an answer to that enigma) and simply be content.

The answer was short, simple, and quick… no.

Why Transgender People Suffer from ‘ID Anxiety’ | Time.com

Driver Licenses for Transgender People Need Options | Time.com:

“For trans people, ‘ID anxiety’ can be an almost daily occurrence. As a gender nonconforming writer and producer, I travel at least once a month to make appearances at events or perform at colleges and universities. Each time I go through TSA, I take a deep breath and say a prayer that the officer at the podium won’t take one look at my dress, then the ‘M’ on my driver’s license, and decide that I need to be held for more thorough questioning.”

Humpty Dumpty

There are times when I think I am too broken to ever be put back together…

Not so long ago I didn’t realize how broken I was. Oh, I knew there were something wrong in my head, but I had no concept of how bad the damage was. Honestly, I doubt I have scratched the surface but what I know now is enough to make me want to simply give up. There is too much  and it seems to get more complicated, more intertwined and knotted… Seriously, I feel like the lone meatball in the center of a can of alphabet soup.

ADD, BDD, OCD, PTSD… the list get longer by the day and I am at a loss as how to deal with just one thing never mind a medical journal’s worth of problems and issues.

Life has never been easy, I would be a fool to suggest it was, but now… I don’t know anymore…

I don’t really understand who or even what I am. I try to grasp onto small thing, a like, dislike, a hobby or interest of some kind, anything which gives me a connection, a place to start… but it slips through my fingers like mist on a foggy morning with the sun is taking far too long to burn its way through and I’m left to muddle through with no idea of where I’m going or why.

Being Seen

It can be sad and frustrating when those closest to you, who you look to for love and support have the hardest time accepting you. When they insist on using dead names and improper pronouns, when they do so seemingly without a thought or care and are unfazed by the obvious distress doing so causes on a daily, sometimes hourly basis.

On the other hand it can be rewarding, confusing, and stressful when strangers actually get it right even when you have all but given up on trying to be seen as who and what you are.

I know this sounds backward, but let me explain. I have family who I have come out to, people who have watched my struggle to become myself. Who have heard my fears, have seen my tears and still insist on using my dead name and the wrong pronouns to the point I have tried to back off transitioning any further or in fact to de-transition completely because it so painful. 

On the other hand, when I am out in public, regardless of how I think I am presenting, I am still seen as female to the point of being directed to the women restroom, being called mam’, miss, and lady. I know I should be happy with this but all it does is leave me feeling sad and unsure of myself…

Too many times I have asked myself and others, “What the hell do I need to do to be seen one way or the other?”