Life and Transition

Just going through life and documenting my journey in the nittiest and grittiest of details. I awnser any questions!

[eternal-nyx]

Let’s Talk About Service Dogs, ESAs, and Why The Difference Matters

I’ve had a few people ask why I call Buddy both my *Neurological Alert & Response* and *Psychiatric Alert & Response* service dog.

For the neurological side, that’s pretty straightforward. Buddy alerts to my seizures and fainting episodes, responds after they happen, and performs counter pressure when I need it.

He also has a “go get help” task, but not in the way most people think. He isn’t trained to grab the nearest stranger because, personally, that wouldn’t make me feel safe. Instead, he’s trained to find a known person or an appropriate authority figure (someone like medical staff or an officer, since we specifically trained him to recognize and appropriately approach people in those roles). Most often, though, his job is simply to find my partner.

The psychiatric side can look very different than people expect. It’s not just PTSD, anxiety, or panic attacks. It’s also not the same thing as an Emotional Support Animal (ESA). Psychiatric service dogs perform trained tasks which can support many different psychiatric, developmental, and neurodevelopmental disabilities.

“The ADA makes a distinction between psychiatric service animals and emotional support animals. If the dog has been trained to sense that an anxiety attack is about to happen and take a specific action to help avoid the attack or lessen its impact, that would qualify as a service animal. However, if the dog’s mere presence provides comfort, that would not be considered a service animal under the ADA.” (US Department of Justice 2015, Q4)

For me, one example is during a sensory meltdown or shutdown when I’m home alone. Sometimes I become so overwhelmed that I unintentionally hurt myself, maybe I’m flapping too hard and hit my head, etc.

As a child, meltdowns sometimes became severe enough that adults felt they had to physically restrain me. That was traumatic. Thankfully it’s nowhere near that severe at 30, but those moments of overwhelm still happen.

When they do, Buddy is trained to perform a task called task interruption.

Just like he’ll wake me up if I fall asleep without my CPAP on, he’ll also recognize when I’m in a meltdown or panic attack. He comes to me, wiggles his way into my lap, gets me hugging him, applies deep pressure by lying across my legs, and stays with me until I’ve reached a calm, stable baseline. If I just ‘accept it’ but don’t hug him back or participate, he will lick my hands until I hug him. He is creative and persistent. If I’m in my wheelchair he puts his upper half in my lap and keeps his head on my knees, and he’s a pretty big doggo so, it does the trick.

My last service dog, Betty, spent years as an incredible diabetic alert dog for my mom and later provided mobility support. She also helped me through high school when I developed severe mononucleosis and had to finish school online. After retiring, she spent years happily hiking before cancer took her far too soon.

Likewise, Buddy is a neurological and psychiatric service dog. I wouldn’t call him a diabetic alert dog. This big pitbull lab mix bully breed marshmallow can out service your yorkie any day, because he has a specific job.

These are ALL working animals. But, when people use ESA, therapy dog, and service dog interchangeably, it spreads misinformation about what each one is, and what they do. Those distinctions matter.

“BUT THE LEGAL SAYS”

The Legal Reality

Per the U.S. Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA):

Service Animal

Definition: A service animal is “a dog that has been individually trained to do work or perform tasks for an individual with a disability. The task(s) performed by the dog must be directly related to the person’s disability.” (U.S. Department of Justice 2015, Q1)

Emotional Support Animal (ESA)

Definition: An animal of any species whose mere presence provides comfort or alleviates symptoms of a mental or psychiatric disability. They require zero specialized training.

Emotional support, therapy, comfort, or companion animals are not considered service animals under the ADA because they have not been trained to perform a specific job or task (U.S. Department of Justice 2015, Q3).

While some state or local laws may allow them in certain public places, they are not protected by federal ADA access rights (U.S. Department of Justice 2015, Q3).

Your Amazon vest does not make your pet a service dog. Your ESA is not a service dog. Any website or company that charges you for a “Certified ESA Registration” or an “Official Service Dog ID Badge” scammed you. They took your money and ran, and you bought it hook, line, and sinker.

Here’s the real truth.

Your disability is what gives you rights, not a vest and a fancy script.

Every time an untrained pet in a “service dog” costume yaps at a customer, urinates on a floor, or lunges at a real working dog, it creates intense skepticism for the entire community. This is exactly why businesses have begun to crack down on access. If you have purchased online “credentials” but cannot explain what the term means or what the actual legal protections are, your animal is just a pet. Treating a pet like a legal shield is an act of entitlement that makes life harder for actual handlers.

Buddy doesn’t know what the ADA is. He doesn’t know what federal law is. He doesn’t know what housing protections are. He just knows his job. Humans are apparently the ones struggling with that concept.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk, I’m not sorry.

Footnotes: Common Misconceptions

Identification: The ADA does not require service animals to wear a vest, ID tag, or specific harness (U.S. Department of Justice 2015, Q8).

Certification: The ADA does not require service animals to be certified; covered entities may not demand documentation as a condition for entry (U.S. Department of Justice 2015, Q17). Online registration documents do not convey any rights, and the Department of Justice does not recognize them as proof of service status (U.S. Department of Justice 2015, Q17).

Breed: There are no breed restrictions; any breed of dog can be a service animal (U.S. Department of Justice 2015, Q22).

Bibliography

U.S. Department of Justice, Civil Rights Division. “Frequently Asked Questions about Service Animals and the ADA.” Last modified July 20, 2015. https://www.ada.gov/resources/service-animals-faqs/.

[eternal-nyx]

The Chair My Brain Doesn’t Believe Exists Yet

Finally, after waiting since Helene to get back into PT, today was my wheelchair evaluation. And I think I need to start before today, just slightly, because I feel like I’ve heard others tell this story, and now somehow I’m telling it? It’s a story I’ve seen repeated so many times in the disabled community, and I want to spell it out plainly. 

This has been a very long road.

My first mobility aid was a cane. I got it while I was still with my ex husband, younger, early 20s, and had just given birth and stopped nursing. And honestly, that cane came with a fight. I wasn’t supposed to use it in public. I was “too young.” I didn’t “look like” someone who needed one. Doctor’s can be wrong. It’s embarrassing to be seen with. Don’t believe everything you read on the internet. The list goes on and on, moving goalposts.

After that, my first rollator came as a Christmas gift from my mom in 2021. I’m pretty sure it was 2021 because of the timeline with Elena, though it could’ve been Christmas 2020. With the same goal posts.

The hardest part about needing mobility aids when you are young is that everyone seems to have a different idea of what “disabled enough” looks like, and somehow you are always being measured against a standard nobody can actually explain. 

Fast forward to semi present day, living with Catherine, my partner, and my first insurance covered transfer wheelchair, right before Hurricane Helene. Basic silver transfer chair. 5 dollar copay. It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t custom. It wasn’t anything special on paper.

But it was mine.

That chair survived the hurricane, the displacement, the hotel moves, and all the chaos that came with it. It carried me through a chapter of my life that I never expected to live, until the wheel finally broke at the hotel in Tennessee.

Still displaced, we needed something local and we needed it quickly. We found Max Medicine Mart, I believe, and they had a hurricane relief program. We traded them the one with the broken wheel for a new donated wheelchair. A plus size, sturdier chair. This is my chair. The one I’m sitting in as I type this draft. Ole reliable. She’s amazing, she’s just ready to retire.

And today was the first return to PT and wheelchair evaluation since Helene, to address exactly that. A new replacement chair that fits where I am now.

Cat and I worked together to set this appointment up. She goes with me to all my appointments, and we both remembered how much we liked this place from her previous experiences there.

I had only been there once. She had been there twice. They have been kind to us every time. So it was nice going somewhere trusted.

First, the waiting room had its own little moment.

There was this sweet older man in an orange shirt sitting there. When I wheeled by, he looked at me and said:

“How you doing, sir?”

And internally? Immediate gender euphoria.

Out loud I just said, “Doing good, you?”

This sweet old man kept talking with his caretaker about everything and nothing. One conversation I overheard was about fly fishing. The man asked something like, “Do fish fly?”

And it was just the cutest little interaction.

Cat told me later that she had seen him there before and that he practically lived there. She had even pushed him around once. It was just this tiny, random, human moment before the appointment started.

Then the evaluation began. I worked with a really kind set of physicians. One was the woman who did most of my evaluation. The other was the guy who helped with the wheelchair side of things. I felt comfortable. I didn’t feel embarrassed or like I was in the wrong place.

The first question was basically:

“What are we here for? What do you want? What are your goals?”

“I want to strengthen what I have, protect what I have left, and improve my quality of life.”

Mobility, Function, Independence, but I also wanted to address my broken arm’s range of motion and the fact that my current wheelchair is falling apart. And they listened.

That sounds simple, but I’m telling you it hasn’t always been simple. And THAT is why I’m putting so much effort and detail into writing something so small into existence largely. 

Back in the PT area, there were a couple moments where my autistic little brain went, “Ah yes, an uncomfortable social situation detected,” like seeing myself in the mirror Hunchback Penguin Waddling around the room, but overall the experience was genuinely good. I had shyness, not discomfort.

As we talked, they started getting more and more into the medical language. And I recognized that shift. I don’t walk into appointments trying to prove I know things. I don’t want to be the person who says, “Well actually, I did nursing school.” So I actually usually try to just wait until they talk to me and talk however they do.

After all, they are professionals. I didn’t finish. But I think they could tell I understood more than the average patient. There’s this weird thing that happens in medical spaces where there’s almost two conversations happening at once. The one everyone is saying out loud, and the one happening underneath it. And suddenly I was in that second conversation too.

And I was like: “Oh. Hi. Hello. I know this language.”

Then came the physical evaluation. She checked my vitals, gave me a cane because I had left mine in the car like a complete genius, and had me walk over to the table.

The tests were familiar. Push against my hand. Pull. Lift your leg. Move your wrist. Check range of motion. All the normal PT things. And she was wonderful about it. She told me not to push past my limits. To challenge myself, but not force myself into a flare.

She asked me to stand while she checked my vitals. The finger monitor. The blood pressure cuff. And I looked at her and said:

“Poor man’s tilt table?”

She gave me this cheeky little grin. She knew. She didn’t say anything. But she knew.

Later, when we tested my legs while I was laying down, she did the same thing. She checked me in different positions. 

Next, the guy pushed my wheelchair behind me in case I needed it. Cat supported me the way she does at home, my hand on the cane and my other hand on her elbow. And the lady had me just sort of walk laps around the room. 

And we walked. Until my body said:

“Nope.”

And the funniest part? It happened so fast. I made it like ¼ of that lap around a very tiny room LOL. 

I said, “Oh, yep, there it is.” mostly under my breath.

At almost the exact same moment, Cat said: “Okay, that’s enough, you.” and gently tugged me toward the, now approaching, chair. 

And the girl behind me immediately asked: “Is it time to sit?”

The guy was already moving the chair towards me, now it’s basically at me, and Cat ushers me right into it.

No debate. No argument. No questioning whether I was really struggling. I had a symptom. Everyone responded. The lady actually ran to get the equipment and immediately checked my vitals. After that, we started talking about the actual wheelchair. It was such a simple thing, and such a quick and smooth transition, and I think that’s why it hit me so hard. Like woah. 

So now words are flying around the room, some I’ve never heard of, some I have a basic knowledge of. Manual. Power. Future options. Insurance. Different models. They talked about K4, K5, different frames, different options. They even disagreed with each other for a minute, which was honestly kind of adorable. It was like watching siblings argue:

“No, this one.”

“No, this one.”

Eventually we landed on what seemed like the best option. The frame choice came down to customization versus foot positioning.One option was lighter and more adjustable, but my feet would sit farther forward.

The other was a little sturdier and allowed my feet to come back underneath me more. And because I’m used to my hammock style and keeping my feet back, I chose the second option.

Everyone agreed.

Then came the question I absolutely was not prepared for. The guy looked at me and said:

“Now, this is the hardest choice you’re going to make today.”

My brain immediately went:

“Oh no.”

I expected insurance problems. Complications. Something terrifying.

“What color do you want?”

I blinked.

“What?”

He handed me the tablet.

Apparently, I got to pick. Like I was choosing a car, or a hair color. I had to do a mental double take before the first click. 

I’m looking at this tablet like it could spontaneously combust any second and I hesitantly tap, and it felt like I wasn’t supposed to, but I did. And the colors popped up, cyan teal. The same dark blue green color I used to have my hair. The same color I keep building everything with in Subnautica and Minecraft.

Of course it was an option. Of course. So the frame is going to be that cyan teal.And the wheels? I debated black. But there was also this gorgeous dark purple.

Cat looked at me. “Come on. You know you want the purple.”

The guy was grinning.

Fine.

Fine.

When I saw the picture of the chair, my first thoughts were:

“That’s a social media wheelchair.” “That’s a famous person’s wheelchair.” “That’s bougie.” “That’s Gucci.” “That’s a wheelchair?” “Is that really mine?”

Because I genuinely do not know how to process that.

The last wheelchair I got was basically: “Do you want it fat or small?” The one before that was a $5 copay. Don't get me wrong, I was overjoyed both times. Which is why this was so mind blowing. I expected more of THAT.  But the reality is, this is healthcare. This is what it is supposed to look like. This is not too much. This is a chair built for my body, and I am allowed to have a say in it. I needed this. I fought for this. I just did not expect to be allowed to participate in this.

While I was talking with the therapist about next steps, and the actual PT part of the PT, the wheelchair guy was measuring me.

My legs. My hips. My chest. Everything. And he apologized for bothering me.

I told him:

“Nah, I’m just pretending I’m a statue. I’m treating it like a dress fitting.”

And he laughed. But honestly? Thinking back? 

That’s what it felt like. I femme presented until after I had Elena. I did the prom dresses, the ball gowns, the Wedding Dress saga. I’ve done it, and it felt like that. Methodical. Professional. Same page. Doing a job. Kind. Do you understand how rare that is for me? I am 30 years old, and I can count on very few hands the number of times my body has been approached with that kind of care. 

Now, am I still scared? Absofuckinlutely.

Part of my brain keeps waiting for someone to tell me they made a mistake. That insurance will say no. That the name on the paperwork is wrong. That somehow this isn’t actually happening.

I keep looking at that picture and the voice keeps saying:

“That’s mine?” With a question mark and a little half smile.

The woman today said that where they work, they like to stay cautiously optimistic. So I think I’m going to do that too. Cautious optimism.

Something good happened today. I’m going to let myself believe that maybe it keeps happening.

[eternal-nyx]

National Coming Out Day 2023

It's national coming out day today!🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🌈🌈

Time for my yearly Re Coming out!

Hi My name is Wyntre Nyx Mann. My Pronouns are They/He/She in that preference order. I go by Wyn.

I'm Sapphic Bisexual, Nonbinary/Genderfluid/Trans, & Ambiamorous.

My name? I am legally changing it. I have been publicly out for 2+ years. Please start referring to me correctly and using my correct name. I have no problem cutting people out of my life who continue to deadname me. You've had enough time. I. am. Wyn.

I plan to come out every damn year all over again because guess what. Sexuality, gender, relationship dynamic. Its all a SPECTRUM. Its all fluid. It can change. Its ok if it changes.

You thought you were gay but you are bi? Its ok if you feel a need to come out a second time. You weren't faking. It wasn't a phase. You learned more about yourself and discovered more about your identity and that should be CELEBRATED not hidden. If it isn't safe to come out that's ok but no one should feel invalidated or afraid to come out or be themselves, especially within our own community.

So I will come out every single year, for those who can't.

Disclaimers I don't speak for the entire queer community. This is about ME and my own identity. Relationships don't define our identity, sexuality, gender, etc. Presentation doesn't define our gender. (That includes social presentation like pronouns). These things are all manifestation of identity. Not a definition or requirement. Identity is important and my knowing and owning mine is my process into loving myself for who I am. Labels matter to me, even if they don't to you.

[eternal-nyx]

First 7 days of HRT

Day 1

September 27th 2023

No Noticeable changes

Day 2

September 28th 2023

NSFW: When I find alone time and find myself aroused, I have a daily habit to get into me and my fiancé’s shared toy box and do my thing. Well I did my normal thing today, and I noticed I could FEEL things with my fingers. So I did a LIL inspection and it was bigger. Not by a lot but I KNOW my anatomy, and my AFAB parts are heavily hooded and usually don’t extend past the hood even when aroused. Today was different, and that is ALL I will say to anyone about my genitals. Then when all was done it was less plump, but still slightly larger than I am used to. I HAD MY FIRST ERECTION! And not only that, but I have growth!!!!!! On day fucking 2!!!! I’m gonna cry

Also….It’s itchy. And I seem to be unable to stop being aroused. Whoops.

Day 3

September 29th 2023

Vocal Changes: I haven’t noticed anything talking but me and my fiancé sing together every day. WE are very musical and Spotify is ALWAYS playing. We were singing this morning and my voice just refused to hit this note I’ve always hit before. I tried several times and couldn’t hit the note at all. My voice just straight cracked and went NOPE when singing soprano. Specifically my very high very belty notes. I can still hit my very high breathier ones.

Day 4

September 30th 2023

NSFW: Noticing a change in the way orgasms feel. I’m not exactly sure how to describe it. It’s not bad. It’s different. But it’s nice.

Why am I so horny. How do I stop being horny. I own an entire box of toys. I have a very healthy sex life and a partner who is more than willing to assist. But no matter what I try, it doesn’t STOP. And it’s not emotional its physical. I can FEEL this…..tingling? Fullness? Every time I shift my sitting position, and it’s arousing. What the hell? I expected sensitive, and I expected wanting to have sex more. But being PHYSICALLY aroused more when I just wanna take a nap? Or watch tv? Like…..ok chill.

Vocal Changes: Still having issues hitting some of the notes in my higher singing range, though not all of them. Nothing noticeable when talking yet

Day 5

October 1st 2023

Hygiene: Increase need for deodorant. Body odor is stronger and smells different. I may need to change hygiene products.

NSFW: Things feel plumper down below. Is this the beginnings of growth?

Vocal Changes: Singing those high notes is getting harder but im trying to continue to exercise my singing range. I don’t care how low my talking voice gets, but I’d like to keep some of my higher singing range. Daily singing to try to help.

Appetite: There’s been a gradual increase. So far, it’s been a positive for me. I have an eating disorder (ARFID) and the increased need to eat is helping a bit. In the last month alone I accidently lost over 25lbs unhealthily. So this is good for now.

Body Hair: Is that a shadow on my lip? I know I have lip and chin hair due to my PCOS, but is it shadowing on my lip now? I feel indifferent to hair growth currently. I don’t shave my body hair really ever, I just maintenance it. My facial hair I’ve always shaved before but maybe we will let this grow and see what feelings arise. I am cautiously curious.

Misc: As night settled, I became subtly aware of my genitals in way I hadn’t really before. It’s a little hard to describe, but the best way I can put into words is to say it isn’t painful or unpleasant. It isn’t pressure or pain. But I can feel it in the sense that my brain is aware of it in my daily life and movements, similar to the way I feel and am aware of my breasts as they rub the inside of a bra or shirt. It isn’t pleasurable or painful, but it’s not quite the type of awareness one is used to in regards to those types of body parts.

Day 6

October 2nd 2023

Hygiene: The body odor changes continue to happen slowly.

NSFW: As I have mentioned before, my partner and I have a very healthy amount of communication regarding intimacy. I had asked her to let me know before, I ever even started T, if she noticed any changes in my anatomy. During the night of day 5 into the morning of day 6, during an intimate moment, she informed me she was noticing changes, though struggled with describing them.

Holy fucking CHRIST I cannot sit comfortably. No position takes the pressure off enough to make it comfortable below. ACK. I was warned. I know. But ACKKKK.

Appetite: Very munchy. I want bland ass salty chips. Or Cheetos.

Day 7:

October 3rd 2023

Hygiene: The body odor changes continue to happen slowly.

NSFW: I still cannot sit comfortably. Or lay comfortably. No position takes the pressure off enough to make it comfortable below.

As I mentioned in a previous day, my AFAB parts at the beginning of all this naturally laid downturned and were heavily hooded. At this point things seem to be….er….straightening out? Moving upwards/outwards slightly? Not just the clit but also the outer labia, which, hunh, unexpected but I’ll take it. Its all still very much a tiny bundle tucked away where it’s at but its starting to plump up and shift. That’s the best way I can really put it I think.

Appetite: So hungry. Wtf?! But so nauseous. I’m not sure where the nausea is coming from but blech. GERD is nuts today too. Unsure if related.

Body Hair: Yea that’s DEFF an upper lip shadow.

[eternal-nyx]

I started HRT!

Whew been a minute since I updated hunh? Well, it's been busy!

I got approved to start testosterone HRT on September 25th, 2023. I was surprised. I live in a bible belt, conservative, state and town. The trans health care here is.....the best word I have is mental whiplash.

I started with a PCP at Medical Group A. He said he wasn't qualified for tran's or gender care and that no one in practice A was. He then said that there are rotating residents who DO the gender care and he put me on a wait list with them.

I finally got to the appointment after a couple months and it was so easy. They used my chosen name and pronouns. They were respectful. Almost too respectful They tap danced around terminology to try to avoid offending me. It was......strange? Surreal? Twilight Zone? The Matrix? Either way. It felt very formal and professional and I do very much like the resident. It was just a very surreal experience.

But she was satisfied with our appointment and sent out the prescription the same day. She even tried to work with me when I voiced a desire to avoid injections if possible, but that I would take them if no other option existed. She tried hard to make the gel work, but in the end we went with the injections.

Then the next stage of trouble began. My normal pharmacy was out of the medication. It's a controlled substance in my state.

So I called walmart pharmacy, but they were out of stock too. So was CVS, but at least they offered to order it if I filed it with them. I called a few other local pharmacies and FINALLY found one with the medication in stock. But everyone was closing so I had to wait until the next day to do the transfer.

I wake up the next morning and call to make the transfer, but because its a controlled substance, and I hadn't filled it before, they couldn't transfer it. My doctor would have to send it to the new pharmacy. So I made those phone calls and got that all set up.

The next day it's FINALLY ready for pick up but my insurance won't cover it at this pharmacy. They run it on a discount card and get the price down to approx. $40 USD.

As a low income family we panicked briefly about how to afford the medication. We ended up having to charge it to our credit card. But we got it!

And on 9/27/2023 at noon I did my first self injection of Testosterone!

[eternal-nyx]

Starting Fresh: Transition!

Let me share a little moment of gender euphoria and an insight into my own transition.

Demographic reminders

Pronouns: they/she, trying he

Gender: nonbinary, trans, genderfluid

Name: Wyn

Terminology used

AFAB: assigned female at birth

Enby: a term used by some nonbinary people as a shortened form of nonbinary; a less formal way to express gender.

Transition: the process through which a trans person or gender expansive person transitions to match their gender.

Packer: A transition item that is basically a prosthetic penis, but can very in function from purely aesthetic to fully functional depending on price and quality.

Packing boxers: Boxers style underwear made with a pouch specifically for use with a packer.

Masc/Femme: Masculine/Feminine

+

Up until recently I never allowed myself to truly embrace the masc side of my gender fluidity. I’ve always been the enby who wanted ALL of the things. Penis. Vagina. Breasts. My gender dysphoria is purely around what my body lacks, and not what has.

My amazing girlfriend recently bought me a cheap starting packer and a pair of packing boxers to help me express and explore my masc side and holy SHIT y’all. I’ve never felt more like myself than when I’m wearing it. I feel sexy. I feel confident. My sex drive got quite the boost. My mental health is better.

Dealing with the few things that DO give me dysphoria (menstrual cycles, incontinences, etc) is so so so much easier. Throw my boxers and packer on over whatever period/incontinence product I’m using and boom. I’m on my period AND I have a dick. Ultimate gender cryptid move and I love it lol. I feel like ME. It feels *right*. It’s that “click” we all want and wait for and DAYUM mine smacked me in the face.

So my girlfriend and I went back and got 3 more pairs of the packing boxers and have plans to invest in a more durable, and more functional, packer soon.

Either way I’m so excited to really be taking off on this journey and I’m so thankful so have such accepting and supportive people in my life. Come along for the ride everyone!

To fellow gender expansive folk who may want to see what the packer looks like out of package, or more info in general, feel free to comment or DM. I always love to help where and when I can.

[eternal-nyx]

I return!

I used to blog on Yahoo 360, and then for a while I ran a blog here called Life of a neurodivergent. I was in an abusive situation. I was told I could no longer partake in my online activities like tiktok, tumblr, etc. I was carefully monitored on what I was allowed to say online and to others. I am free. And after 6 beautiful months of freedom, I'm taking my life back. Including my blog! I'm back everyone!