I read somewhere that you can sometimes give up on some days. That some days are fucked beyond repair. This is the form of surrendering I want for myself.  It is empowering. To stand still and just breath it out. Then I get to watch me survive. A few days ago I picked up a card with the phrase “my vulnerability is a strength” on it. It spoke to me but I did not fully get it. Now I get it. On a day where one of my worst triggers played out. I have authority issues. The authority of people who can do whatever they want with your body for your own good (like parents when you are young and doctors at all ages) scares the shit out of me. Then I had anxiety for hours. I had a whole day planned out, creative, productive. But I had too much anxiety for it. A day fucked beyond repair. Ok then. I made a commitment to try to achieve nothing today. Just survive it. It was not even extreme self-care. Just some noodles with vegetables. A blanket around me. I was there for me.  

One of the most intense (and crucial) moments in writing is when you come up with a great idea and you enjoy so much writing it and then a few moments later (or any amount of time later) you realise that the text is going somewhere else, which is interesting and exciting, but there is no space there any more for that great idea, and you have to either transform it or part with it altogether. This is the type of loss one must be prepared to endure if they are in the business of following their joy both in writing and in life.

Once upon a time I buried away
the ghost structures of old being
and I re-emerged
inside an expanded universe
free of gender
and full of manifestations of my own human revolution

Being different in the midst of societal pressure for conformity is not easy. Within the societal context coming out as a lesbian, as a trans person, as gender non-conforming, as polyamorous, or as anything that is not celebrated as “normal”, is hard. And most people think it is something that you have to do once, but it isn’t. It is actually something that you have to do every day.  And it can be as exhilarating and joyful, as it can be devastating and exhausting. And the more proud and joyful you want to be about it the more devastating and exhausting it becomes.  It is easier to come out as anything if you can show appropriate remorse and misery about it. My family and friends seem to respond better if I tell them that I become physically nauseous (which I do) when people misgender me. By responding better I mean especially in terms of making an actual effort to try not to misgender me. They seem to evaluate it as a factor of less importance when I tell them that my identity, being a person without gender, gives me profound joy. Wanting is seldom approved if the motivation is joy. Joy is suspicious, it is considered selfish, dangerous, even arrogant. 

We can, and maybe we must take the pain of relationships for granted and celebrate as victories all our attempts to navigate through them with  integrity, authenticity and compassion, even when those attempts appear to be completely unsuccessful.