I'm back...
Sorry, it's a long read... After a couple of months of sorting a few things, I've been working out a plethora of different things about myself. Way back in January of 2021, I started to identify myself as non-binary. I recall the very moment because I laughed, and I laughed because suddenly quite a few things started to make sense.
2021 was the year that I wish would have never happened. As I lived through it, I experienced loss several times over. The loss of a loved one, the loss of faithful pets, and through it all I started to lose myself. I stopped exploring myself and just started existing, which at first seemed okay. I woefully accepted it as my lot in life. In addition to the losses from that year, the stress of the pandemic and working through it led to points in time where I walked away from here and other social media sites for the sake of my mental health. The things that had once made me happy didn't, and it was such a horrible feeling to come to that realization. However, 2021 was not a total loss. I worked to try and turn it around, renewing my life and who I was. It was about that time I discovered a song from Fall Out Boy titled "The Phoenix". Say what you will about the band if you don't like them, but that song reached to the core of my being and took hold. I slowly started adopting various imagery of a Phoenix for everything like tumblr, facebook, and even tiktok. I wanted to pull myself up out of the ashes and rise like a Phoenix. I did, at least for a bit but I hit a few snags along the way.
The biggest snag was coming to terms with my gender identity. Using they/them pronouns has become a staple for me, and I don't necessarily lose sleep when someone uses the wrong ones (he/him) because I don't present as feminine or even androgynous. I couldn't fault people for it, but it did sometimes get under my skin. August of 2021 I went to meet with family for a reunion. After the losses I faced earlier in the year, I needed to ground myself and recharge and I had high hopes that being around them would help. It was...kinda. I was able to reconnect with family, but at a cost. We took a couple of day long trips while I was there and during one of those trips the topic of people using they/them pronouns had come up. I spoke in support without directly referencing myself; I was testing the waters. Ho-ly shit am I glad to have stuck with that. I heard all sorts of poor judgment about people who identify as non-binary; the most hurtful of all was hearing the words "mentally ill" being spewed by my cousin and her son. I pushed back, even throwing in the fact that non-binary is not defined as a mental illness in the DSM-V. Not that it mattered. I spent the rest of that day alone. I had been hurt, especially considering these were supposed to be my most forward-thinking and progressive relatives.
I had a couple of dips in my mental health since then, including back in the end of July when I took this most recent break. It was also my longest. During this time I was sorting out problems that were not my own but they definitely did effect me. As I helped to get those sorted, I had a lot of time to think. I've considered the idea before, but in the last couple of months something was pulling at me. For the lack of a better explanation, it was like I looked into the mirror and whispered to myself "I see her..." Her. Myself. The person that has been there all along but had been proverbially beaten down, thrown around, locked away, and shunned to the point of barely seeing the light of day. I speak as though it were someone else, but it's not. It's me. The concept of femininity is not something new. It was something that I had the opportunity to explore with the aforementioned loved one that I had lost. She was very supportive about it all. A true pillar of strength.
Now with the other issues that were not my own being handled, and a visible light being at the end of the tunnel on those, it opened the door for me to really stop and think about life. Not just life, but who I am in this life. My identity. Here I am at nearly 40 years old, having at one point settled on thinking that I had everything sorted only to find quite the opposite. I hate to say it, but I have to admit that I am a bit afraid. No, forget a bit. I'm actually pretty scared because family is everything to me, and I know without a doubt that becoming the real me could potentially damage that. It's a double-edge sword, however, because not being me is far from ideal. So once more, here I am nearly 40 and trying to figure out life. My questions to others are as follows; How did you handle the worry and being afraid? What are some concerns that you had? Do you have any advice?
Messages are always open, and if you prefer to remain anonymous my ask box is open and anon is on. If prefer I not reply to an anonymous ask, please feel free to add that. Even in parentheses if you so wish. If you've read this far, thank you.
-V
