FieryMamaRow

Full disclosure: I spent almost two weeks in a psych ward. I won’t say where for the safety of the patients there with me. The greatest lesson I learned there though, is really something I already knew. But honestly isn’t practised much. Acceptance. We all were there because really all we wanted was someone to see the real us.

One woman stopped taking her meds and sunk deep into her depression, and then when she really someone the most, they wouldn’t answer her calls.  Her neighbors cared enough to notice though and she ended up in the Behavioral Health Unit. She wasn’t one hundred percent when she went home, but she made time to sit with me every day, and I listened, even when the last thing I wanted to do was socialize. I never said much to her, just listened quietly, but she was always kind and grateful.  And she always saw me as ‘Sweet Ren’.

One woman came in and would scream and shout that there were demons in her room or that the ONLY person she answers to is up above and wouldn’t even respect the staff there.  But one day she sat down next to me as I was coloring, and just commenting on my coloring pages. I didn’t talk much then because I was still scared of people, especially her, but gradually, she and I became friends. It took a lot of coloring pages and patience, but by the time she left, I was chatting it up with her about our kids, and she showed me her beautiful angels. And you know what, maybe she was a prayer warrior, because underneath all the “crazy” she had the purest heart of any adult I ever met. And her love for everyone she came across was without a doubt genuine.

There was this lady who always picked up on my depression and anxiety levels. Even in groups, she would tell the best stories, that always put at least a smile on my face, even when it felt wrong to me to smile.  And if I was too isolated or quiet, she’d come up to me and whisper in my ear the few words of my favorite story she told and it would make me laugh all over the again.

There was one man who kind of intimidated me, but hey, most people taller than my 5’2 frame intimidate me and this guy was WELL over six foot. But by the end we were pretty good friends, and we walked laps, he’d go one way, and I’d go the other way, and despite him being faster than me because he had longer legs, no matter how many times he passed me we always greeted each other with a different greeting.  And he’d get the biggest smile on his face.  And his goal was the same every day, ‘Attend groups and think positive.’ It was awe-inspiring that even on the days he felt at his worst.

But the most amazing thing was the change I saw in a patient the second to last day. Most of the time she isolated herself, and didn’t even at breakfast sit at table with people. She stood up under the tv every meal every day.  She tended to isolate a lot, but when she did get out of her room, she was disoriented a lot. So my third to last day I helped her get back to her room.  And the second to last day, she sat down at a table, let someone sit with her, and attended groups. I even saw her smile when we were playing jenga.  The next she was back to standing eating under the tv, but she still attended groups.  And when I asked her what her favorite part of the previous day was, she said with the biggest smile on her face, ‘Playing jenga.’ I don’t know if I’m the one who made that small difference, or meds were finally starting to work for her, but I knew in my heart, I helped her in a small way.

Okay so what about me? Why did I end up in the behavioral health unit? Most of you probably figured out I have anxiety.  But I don’t think I ever explained what anxiety disorders I have.  I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder (when people say they have anxiety, its most likely this one.  And I’m not gonna lie, its a beast) and Social Anxiety. What I didn’t realize was that I also suffer from Depression. I won’t go into too many details, but first it started out as worry.  Okay worry, that I can handle. But soon other thoughts started kicking in. ‘I must have done something. What did I do? Obviously I’m to blame. How do I fix it? Can I even fix it? I’m losing control, I know dammit, but that’s the problem, I can’t regain control of my emotions.’ Then cue on the social anxiety in full force. ‘I hate people.  They always leave in the end.  And its always my fault. I say the wrong thing. I pull away. I don’t express how I really feel.  I’m always left in the end. So I must have done something wrong.  But I’ve been trying so hard!  What did I do to deserve this?  Did I not make that person happy enough?’

The best way I know how to describe my anxiety/both types is its like there is someone burying me alive under a pile of rocks. Negative thoughts, emotions, memories, etc… They all are the rocks burying me.  But what I didn’t know, was that I was also being buried in a pit. All I knew was I had to get out, so I could breathe again.  So finally I managed to get one rock loose to pull my arm through, and managed to work about halfway out of it again. But suddenly I was shoved back in, and I blamed my poor communication skills, and just plain hated myself. Why couldn’t I get it right?  Why couldn’t I communicate better.  Why couldn’t people see how hard I try, and the actions mean more than words to me? WHY WHY WHY?

And then… I felt myself wanting a pen. Not to write with, but to press into my skin as hard as I could, because then maybe it would take away the emotional pain I was feeling.  I was scared that I’d lose control of myself in front of the kids, let anxiety overtake me.  Scared.  I truly was scared. I told my husband I wanted to go to the hospital, because I was pretty certain that I was past the point of coming back by myself. My husband’s wonderful mother came to watch the kids as they slept. We got to the hospital, I was in tears, hyperventilating here and there, and by the time they got the on call social worker on the line, I could barely form words.

They transferred me to a behavioral health unit at a different hospital, where I met the people I previously mentioned. I mentioned I go by Ren and am transgender, use he/they pronouns, and I was surprised how much care every single person, including the patients took to calling me Ren.  They often messed up the pronouns, but they tried to make the situation as comfortable as possible for me in that sense.  And I got genuinely excited when people asked me about being transgender, especially the one who asked what my pronouns were.

I was calmer than when I arrived at the first hospital. But it didn’t take much to see I needed help. One of the first group therapy classes I attended, they asked us just paint. I had no idea what to paint.  So I just started painting random colors. Then I traced the boundaries with black paint, and realized this was perfect way to show how I felt. So I added words to it.

I was curled up with my legs to my chest and my voice was softer than you could ever imagine when the therapist asked about the painting. Quietly I told her it was the feelings in my head.  She said the black lines made it look like stained glass.  But all I could see was a broken mess. That was why I was there. Now I can see though what the therapist saw. The pieces are put together. And the words may be ugly but behind them is a beautiful work of art carefully pieced together to shine through the negative.

It took 13 days for me to get home to my family,  And as much as I missed them, and I hated not being able to spend Christmas with them, I knew that’s where I had to be,  I tried to every group, and every class, interact with people even when it was the last thing I wanted to do. All I wanted to do was isolate.  And one day I just was feeling truly depressed, and there ws a tech who always said come find him when I needed to talk. That that I felt like I was drowning because everywhere I saw or heard the words brave and strong. And frankly the last thing I felt like I was was brave and strong. I don’t believe I am stronger or braver than anyone.  What gets me through the hard times and the past that frequently haunts me, isn’t strength or bravery. It’s picking a path and hoping to God its the right one. Just because I still have fight left in me, doesn’t make me braver or stronger than anyone. The thing that always pulls me through is hope.

Anyway, meds helped the anxiety and depression and even my incessant headaches, But I still have one more diagnosis that medicine can’t fix. Social Anxiety.  But in the behavioral health unit I was in, for once, I finally began to see that there are people who don’t see my supposed rudeness. Don’t laugh when I get my words mixed up. Or force me to prticipate when I’m overwhelmed by people. I finally found a place of healing, free of judgement, and safety and now, I hope to bring that back to our world.

 

There are a lot of you who I would rather tell in person about this, but due to distance and my own social anxiety, not to mention my survival instincts--IE the ones that stem from being bullied and spending my youth in foster care--I find written word will tell my story better.  So my apologies to those of you who I should have said this to in person, and you are finding out this rotten way. It is not that I think ill of you, but my own insecurities--which believe you me, I have MANY-- that I am not telling you on the phone, or in person, or even through some voice/video app.

I 'came out' a few months ago to my mother, when I had complete emotional breakdown, starting, believe it or not, because I was too short to clean out the stupid microwave.  Uh oh, some of you are probably thinking.  Simply because many of us were raised with the notion that being gay is a sin, or perhaps just acting on being gay is a sin.  But no, that's not exactly what I mean.  What I mean is, I am transgender.  Okay so now you're probably thinking, 'So wait, she thinks she's a guy?'  No.  Its not that either.  Nor do I 'think' I am anything. I *KNOW* I am.  As I am in almost all aspects of my life, even my being transgender is unique.  I identify as neither male or female, but rather transmasculine/non-binary. Okay, now you're probably thinking, 'Is that even real?'  Yes, friends and family, it is real.  Just as real as the fact I have brown skin or brown eyes or sepia (almost but not quite black) hair.  Just as real as the fact that I stand at 5 feet 2 inches tall.  Just as real as the fact that I am a mother to two beautiful amazing kids who need me in their life. Just as real as the fact that my body seems to be between sexes too.  (I'll explain that in a bit here). Okay, so now you're probably thinking about the stories you've heard lately about people knowing their whole lives that they were trans.  How kids know in childhood.  But you have to remember, social media, internet, communication etc... was JUST becoming a reality when I was young teen. I can still hear that AWFUL dialup sound when I think back to those days. Many of you I know from when I was a teenager on lotrplaza... and remember that started way back in 2002 (?--- or was it '01?).  In otherwords, even 15 years ago, information wasn't so readily available as it was today. So there was no one to tell me, 'Hey, I'm just like you.' Or 'Hey, you're this.'  

'Okay so does that mean you're gay?'  No.  It does not.  For me, my sexuality isn't defined by gender. It isn't defined by genitalia. For me, its simply defined as, whoever the hell I love.  So, I identify as queer.  Does it make Brent gay? Not at all. He's as I like to say, still straight as a cucumber. The thing I have learned about gender and sexuality over the past year and some, as I've started this journey into a new world, is that it is YOUR identity, not anyone else's.  You define who you are.  You define what it means to you. They are all just words really, because in the end, we're all still human.  And I believe, we are all still God's children. Admittedly, as I've come to terms with my identity, I do not believe one hundred percent everything my faith teaches me. As I've said to the people who know about my struggle with gender dysphoria (to be explained in a minute as well), I honestly believe that God would rather me learn to accept myself and do what I need to be able to do so, and keep living so I can raise my amazing children.  Rather than one day, being found dead on the bathroom floor because I just couldn't take being forced to bury myself in the belief that I HAVE to be female anymore.  I have not reached that point, but I can tell you, there have been countless times where Brent's found me lying on the bathroom floor, crying my heart out because I just couldn't understand how I have to force myself to be female.

It is no secret to those of you who know me personally that I've always been an ally to the LGBTQ+ community, even when I didn't understand what some of those letters stood for.  It is no secret to pretty much all of you that the whole concept of gender roles/expression confuses the hell out of me.  Why do we have to say things are for boys and others are for girls?  And if you didn't know that, I'm sorry for my bluntness/rudeness, where have you been?! I mean how many of you (that know me personally whether from getting to know me online or in real life) can honestly say that you didn't know I absolutely positively hate skirts/dresses/makeup and LOVE videogames, want a truck (if I ever learn to drive... HUSH), and my favorite articles of clothing are jeans and cowboy boots?  How many of you don't know that I THOROUGHLY DETEST the color pink.  Then of course, I don't expect most of you to know this, but you could probably see it happening if you know me. Yeah, I was nearly suspended for punching someone. (In my defense-- he was ignoring me, and wouldn't tell me why, hadn't told anyone else why, [we had mutual friends] so they couldn't tell me why! Which may or may not be the reason I didn't get suspended... hahahaha)  All that said, it wouldn't surprise me if some of you reading this are pumping fists in the air saying, 'I knew it!' or are looking back on the time that you knew me, and see the same signs I saw when I started finding myself a year and some change ago.

But anyway, let me start with the beginning of my story. I was born May 10, 1989, probably a very hairy little brown skinned girl. (At least from the few pictures I have from when I was 2 or younger, I had a LOOOOOT of hair... A blessing and a curse I tell ya.) I can't say for sure if it was a blessed day for my biological mother, but I do know about five months later (I think thats what the paper DeAnn put in my scrapbook says -- I don't have it next to me, sorry.  But I do look at it a lot still!  I'm so glad to have those memories as a keepsake.) my amazing half-sister--bah, screw the half. I love her like she is a full sister, because blood isn't what makes family-- and I were placed in foster care. As you can imagine, I don't remember too much of my early childhood. But I do remember HATING my hair being short because it 'made me look like a boy, and I can't look like a boy!'  I think I started 'officially' growing my hair out in ... third grade? You'd have to ask my mom when the tears over her saying the word 'haircut' started.  Yes... TEARS. She would then correct herself and say 'trim.  Just the split ends. So maybe an inch?' (My mom kept explaining my hair was kept short because of its penchant to become  rats nest, and how high maintenance it was.  After these two kids though, I am sorry to all those who've EVER had to do my hair... I truly understand the agony now haha) Sorry if they really started while I was with you DeAnn... Minds a blur about what happened when in that time period. Anyway, this was the first 'sign'... that was over twenty years ago.  There were other signs like preferring the company of boys too...

Puberty is when, like many, it started to show.  Probably around the time I switched schools.  After too many years being bullied at a private school for being different, I went to a public school where being different was okay. Made a lot of friends, one of whom even one day grabbed me as I got off the bus, brought me into the cafeteria, saying something along the lines of 'I have a surprise for you.'  And she reintroduced me to my best friend from second grade.  That to this day still remains one of the best days of my life, and Rebecca if you don't remember that, we're no longer friends.  (Okay okay, I'm kidding.) I still have no idea how it came about to be honest, but I was happy as a clam. Anyway, I digress.  This is where I first started showing my true colors. The ones where, I'm actually a fighter and apparently don't know my own strength for one.  Where I wore a more 'masculine' gender expression.  Where I started really showing my disdain for much associated with a feminine gender role.  But most importantly, where I started showing what is frequently known amongst us transfolk as 'internalized transphobia.'

Basically, its that denial, or burying, any feelings of being any other gender. Everyone goes through a phobia of being different for one reason or another... I went through it in many aspects.  But in this case, I was literally burying my emotions deep away.  You know me to be the one to fight for those who are different.  Rebel against the word 'can't' within reason. For me though, the thing that stuck so long and I internalized was this idea of having to be female. This was when the inner battle REALLY picked up. Physically, I knew I wasn't normal like other girls. The intense pain that should have been just for a short time, was ALL MONTH LONG. So I was put on birth control.  So there was always this idea in the back of my head, that here I was, taking some hormonal pill to make me like other girls. And I HATED IT.  I hated all the medication to get rid of my teen boy acne... (Especially the one that burned my skin, but that's an unrelated story).  But the meds I was less adverse to taking were my anxiety meds, and vitamins. (Though honestly, I hate taking meds period...) I just felt so... disconnected from reality.  But I kept taking them because a) Mom always made sure I took my meds and b) because I felt like maybe one day, the pain would go away. It didn't. Its when I first started feeling like I needed to rip my insides out. When I first started feeling like they didn't belong.  When I first started feeling feelings of physical and emotional gender dysphoria.  Which basically is defined as when your assigned birth gender doesn't match the gender you feel you are.    But still, I trekked on, never telling anyone how I felt.  Not knowing there were others like me.

You might say, 'well, what about your gender expression?  You yourself said you had a more 'masculine' gender expression during this time. You defied gender roles.'  That is true. And have since.  That was that part of me determined to rebel against all the can'ts I was given.  Me letting my conscience win just that one battle. Its why I will always describe my internalized transphobia as a battle.  Part of me was listening to the world around me, the tenets of my religion, and just people in general.  That was the part who was determined to be 'she'.  The part of me that was not wanting to prove myself in that way. The part that didn't think my gender identity was valid. But there was always part of me challenging that way of thinking.  Challenging me to stop the self-harm. The self-deprecation. That part was allowed by me to express themself however the hell they wanted.  To an extent.

Until of course it was brought to my attention.  In July 2008, I decided, to wear the tie that had been hanging in my closet for who knows how long, that was sent to me from one of my Naryland friends. So I grabbed a button up shirt, and put on my tie. My nephew,in his pure innocence, (he was almost seven) asked me why I looked like a boy.  I thought it was humorous, and took pictures of myself and posted them to Facebook.  But then, after, felt immediately guilty for being so happy about it. It was wrong to feel happy about looking like a boy, wasn't it? I now can look back on it again and laugh, and those are some of my favorite pictures of me. As are some from a few months later, when I was at SLCC (Salt Lake Community College) Institute dance. (Someone's going to have to describe Institute for my non-Mormon friends, because I have no idea how to put it into words) Again, those were ones where I had on not only a tie, but a fedora... Both stolen from a male friend. Sure I was wearing a dress at the time, but it was also the only way friends could get pictures of me.  I'm loudest and proudest when I'm allowed to wear the more masculine clothing, and I'll happily show it off. Otherwise, I really truly detest pictures.

A few months later, still denying I could be anything but female, I married Brent. I was happy.  We were happy.  And a couple months later, we found out we were pregnant. We were over the moon. But then... tragedy struck. I miscarried. But the baby remained in utero for six extra weeks.  I no longer remember how long it was between when we found out I miscarried and the baby actually passed, but I know it wasn't the 24 hours after taking my med that was supposed to encourage the m/c to officially happen.  I think it was two weeks, but I seem to remember it being when I would have been sixteen weeks along... Which would indicate finding out at 14 weeks or it was really four weeks.  ANYWAY, that's when the dysphoria started to spiral out of control. For the nearly 9 years we've been married Brent has had a wife who openly wept that 'she' didn't feel feminine. That she just wanted to rip her insides out.

Well, I won't go into too much more detail... but even with pregnancy, which should have affirmed I was female, I still felt disconnected. Perhaps more so.  Almost like I was an alien. I don't know any way to describe it better.  We just attributed to skewompous pregnancy hormones or the fact that both pregnancies were rough.  Between the kids, I finally got a diagnosis of PCOS-polycystic ovarian syndrome. There's a lot to the syndrome, but it in essence is that I have too much testosterone, which blocks the follicle stimulating hormone (FSH) and luteinizing hormone (LH) from doing their jobs to complete an ovulatory cycle. Often this causes a build up of cysts in the ovaries, making it look like a pearl necklace (as was my case) causing a lack of a regular cycle. The elevated testosterone levels often also cause more masculine traits, most of which I have. (If you're THAT curious, you can look it up) FINALLY I had a reason for why I had to take hormones to make my body cooperate like a normal girls!  So I thought, finally, I'd be better. Could be a normal girl.  Just one that needed help.  I ignored the fact that hormones made me feel out of whack before, displaced... and just went with it. But like I said.. It got bad with pregnancy.  I tried everything I could think of to connect with the feminine side.  I didn't feel feminine, despite having a ginormous baby belly to prove my femininity. I tried mani/pedis, shopping, new clothes, dresses, etc... Anything I could think of... if it worked, it only worked temporarily.

Then Sienna was born, and having health issues. My dysphoria was pushed aside, because I had to focus on her.  But as we started to settle into the routine of having two special needs kids, and Brent working two jobs, I felt the dysphoria creep up again.  Just over a year ago, I had to find out if there were other people suffering as I was.  If this... disconnect... was common with PCOS.  That's when I found out from a transgender forum the disconnect had a name.  Gender Dysphoria.  I didn't at first think I was transgender because I assumed that meant you wanted surgery and hormones and to completely become the other gender.  I still was in denial that this was anything but my PCOS. So I searched PCOS and Gender Dysphoria and found out it was very common for those with PCOS...  And I also found a study that suggested that about 60 percent of transgender men have pcos or could have it. For some reason this made me feel more at home. It took a few more months of Brent finding me on the bathroom floor crying because I didn't feel feminine before I decided I needed to do something about it.  I was the lowest I had EVER been at that point. I wasn't suicidal. As I later told my therapist when he asked, I wasn't suicidal, but just a step above.  If I had to describe it, it was a feeling of, 'what if it all just ended.'  I didn't want to end anything, but I didn't want to fight anymore. But I was too scared as well.  I'm STILL scared.  This is life changing. Could have effects on my marriage too.  People around me. People I care about would possibly hate me. No longer see me the same. I knew it wouldn't change how I am for the kids, but I was just scared. But finally come March/April, I KNEW I couldn't go on anymore like this.  It wouldn't take much more to push me over that edge. And if there was one thing I knew for certain, I NEEDED to be there for the kids.  They were my motivation, my everything. Without me, who'd take care of them when Brent was working two jobs?  Who'd teach them to fight for themselves?  Who could teach them better than anyone that it was great being different?  No one could be their mom like I could.

Since then, my battle has been letting go of all the internalized transphobia.  Letting go of the fact that I have to be someone I'm not.  I figure, my battle is accepting who I am. Not what other people, society, or my religion says I should be.  And if being transgender is a sin, so be it.  I will survive as a transgender non-binary queer freak (said with love of self) rather than be found one day dead on the bathroom floor. I think that is what the God I believe in would rather me do. Now, I realize this will be inciting a LOT of questions/statements.  And I will do the best I can to answer them.  But there are some that I will not answer or tolerate.  They are as follows:

1. You were born with a vagina, therefore you are a girl, etc-- This is the exact line of thinking that led me to crying on my bathroom floor.  This line of thinking kills.
2. Misgendering -- this is going to be difficult at first, and I get that.  This is more along the lines of INTENTIONAL misgendering. (IE using wrong pronouns)
3. Asking questions you wouldn't ask a heterosexual cisgender (non-trans) person. Just like your personal matters are none of my business, mine is none of yours.
4. Telling me I'm a sinner.  As I said before, I believe that God would rather me be alive and raise my kids up to respect others and themselves than end up dead on my bathroom floor before I even hit 30.
5. Insinuating that because I'm transgender, Brent is suddenly gay.  That's for him to decide, not you. As I said, only you can determine your sexuality. And just because he's with me doesn't mean he's suddenly gay.  There is an outlier in every situation
6. ANY SHAMING WHATSOEVER. That goes without saying, since you all know I'm all about letting people being people, and that we are all human.  Keep it off my page, keep it to yours if you must say anything at all... If I see it on my page, I'll politely remind you that I find it offensive and that you are allowed to think what you want but keep it off my page.  But only once.  After that, you'll get a boot off my friends list, and depending on the severity, a potential block.
7. If you are corrected when you misgender me, or if I suggest you try using my preferred name, (most likely will be subtle because I hate confrontation) please don't respond with, 'Its so hard for me.' or similar.  Of course it is.  But you have to remember that its hard for me too.  You just have to change how you look at me and what you say.  For me, I have to actually go through a transition.  I have to go on facing hate, being told I'm a sinner, etc.  PLUS everything you're thinking/doing toward me.  So telling me, 'Its so hard for me' or getting huffing about it, that only says to me, 'You're not worth bothering taking the time for.  I'm just going to make excuses to misgender you.'  So on so forth.  And yes, while that might not be what you're trying to say, that's how it comes across.
8. Any claims that I'm just 'confused' or that its 'just a phase.'  If it was either of those, I wouldn't have gone through all I've been through.

Okay just to reiterate
Gender: Transmasculine/Non-binary
Sexuality: Queer
Pronouns: They/them, He/him
Name: Ren

Just over a year ago, you all saw me start to realize my identity.  Realize that I don't have to be female.  Open that place deep within, and tug on the rope that kept the masculine tied up.  I started out blaming it on PCOS, the medical condition that made me realize something was going on with me.  That I needed to find my identity and my place in the world.  I'm nowhere near 'transitioned' yet... I'm still learning, but I have come a long way in my progression.

Just to show you --

Dying EmotionsNow and then, I think to myself
What if it's all just one big lie.
Such feelings I leave on a shelf,
There they remain, left until they die.
Truth told, I don't know who I am.
Yet, I'm convinced up to the sky
That really, they don't give a damn.
There I remain, left until I die
Does it matter, woman or man?
All the time, I ask myself why.
Feelings only some understand,
But they remain, left until they die
What if they're all just one big lie
Still they remain, left until they die
Oct. 26, 2016

Self-ImageWhat the hell is wrong with me?
I talk about self-image and accepting it,
Yet I have none to speak of myself.
I see fat and blubber.
Hair in places I should not have.
No hips, but big breasts.
Acne covered face.
I used to be pretty.
At least, I used to think I was,
Not in a vain sort of way,
But I was happy with how I looked,
How I felt.
Now, I'm just some wench
In a messed up body,
Some condition that plagues my life
And makes me feel like some days,
I'm more man than woman.
If God makes no mistakes,
Then how am I supposed to accept
That I have to be stuck in this
Stupid in-between?
No matter how I do my hair,
Paint my nails...
How often I shave,
Or every time I wear a skirt.
The constant reminder that
My body is screwed up.
Nov. 27, 2016

ConflictedI can grow a nice mustache.
I have hair on my torso.
I've absolutely no hips.
I have been gifted muscles.
Yet --
I have got a woman's chest.
I gave birth to two children.
Men might say, I've a woman's brain,
I talk a mile a minute.
And--
I can paint my fingernails.
I can style my wavy hair.
I can wear a skirt or dress.
I can flaunt pretty makeup.
But --
Still I feel unfeminine.
I feel like I'm a mistake.
Still I am left wondering,
What the bloody hell I am.
Nov. 27, 2016

Gender FluidityThis... is my story.
The story of a guy trapped in a girl's body.
A girl trapped in a guy's body.
No.  The story of a human being.
I grew up a girl.
But somewhere, deep down, I always knew,
Part of me was also boy.
Every time my mother said I needed a cut
I cried, begged and pleaded, 'Just a trim.'
I didn't want to be mistaken for a boy.
Somewhere, deep down, I always knew.
Every time my mother said I needed a dress
I went into my shell, and cried that I didn't.
I just wanted my jeans and boots and t-shirts.
Somewhere, deep down, I always knew.
Every time my mother asked me to wear make-up,
I cried out, 'No. Please.  Don't make me.'
I didn't want to be that girly girl type.
Somewhere, deep down, I always knew.
Every time my mother took in my clothes at the shoulders,
I pretended it was okay that I had no chest.
I just wanted to be like other girls.
Somewhere, deep down, I always knew.
I grew up a girl
But Somewhere, deep down, I always knew,
Part of me was also a boy.
I am do
March 24, 2017

Surprises and Secrets
'Excuse me miss...'  A hand shook the sleeping dark-haired 'miss' awake.
'What?!  And don't call me miss,' a half-tired voice replied.
'Well, you're snoring...'
'So what?!'
'This is a library. Please try to keep it down.'
'You're asking someone to control something they do in their sleep?  Wow...'  The person sat up and opened their laptop and said, 'Fine, I'll try to stay awake. Hope my typing isn't too loud for you too.'  They waited until the librarian walked away before actually starting to type. 'Row, you really gotta finish ONE story today at least,' came a soft mutter.
Just then, the skype icon flashed orange on the task bar. Ah yes, the morning greeting from Drake.  Perfect.  Now it was time to tell him about the freakin' rude librarian
mornin'
                                &
June 10, 2017

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June 11, 2017

Bending and Breaking RulesThe real me bends the rules of gender
The real me bends the rules of beauty.
The real me bends the rules of spirituality.
The real me bends the rules of color.
The real me bends the rules of life.
The real me bends the rules of love.
I did ballet, tap, modern dance.
I played with barbies and dolls.
I wore dresses and skirts.
I had very long hair.
I loved dress-up and playing house.
I am a gamer geek and love superheros.
I want my own F-150 longbed Ford.
I wear jeans and t-shirts and boots.
I have short hair.
I love sports (although not football).
I've held on to my anger and sadness.
I've held my friends in loving embraces.
I've cried out in the open.
I've danced in the rain
I've punched the guys that piss me off.
I've kept myself aloof from other's love.
I've held back the tears I need to shed.
I've played sports in the rain.
I don't wear makeup or paint my nails.
I don't spend hours in front of the mirror.
I don't hit the salons every six weeks.
I do roll out
June 27, 2017


Untold Beauty MisunderstoodIn this world filled with hate;
A world plagued by injustice;
A world fueled by anger;
A world consumed with misunderstanding;
A world antagonized with problems;
In that world, we stand.
We may be confused about who we are;
We may not understand this identity;
We may not know what our purpose is;
We may not see what our future holds;
We may not hear our own voices sing;
But there is one thing that is completely clear:
This country’s leadership may see me
And others just like me as problematic;
They see us as a burden
They believe us to be untrustworthy
They know we are scary
They tell others that we are sinful
They call us a distraction
For years, we have remained hidden,
Living in the dark shadows,
Begging to be seen,
Praying to be heard,
Hoping to be known,
Asking to be understood.
This way of life isn’t easy,
No matter what path we take.
Some choose to still keep their
True selves under wraps.
Some are bold enough to say,
‘Fuck you this is who I am.’
Others a
August 11, 2017

Online Friendship


But, I do want you to know,
That I love you for you.
Whatever youd ecide, I'm here to back you up.
MY arms are open to catch you, should you fall.
My ears are here to listen should you need to release.
MY hand is here to hold, should you become fearful.
My arms are here to hold you in times of despair.
My lips are here to whisper reassurements and positivities.
<3

Ren looked at the words not for the first time since they were written. And not for the first time did the tears fall.  Out there in the world, he had good friends. Even if they weren't physically with him, they were there. Life did have hope. Its a dark world he lived in, but it was better with friends. Even if they lived on the other side of a computer screen. 
His heart broke though as he read the words again, because that was the truth of the matter. The person who wrote them.... he was on the other s
August 20, 2017

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August 22, 2017

Fight for UsMany of you know that I've suffered through a lot of crap in my life. From it, I've developed anxiety, anti-social traits, seemingly unreasonable fears, and frequent self-loathing. Every day I wake up, and I argue with myself, and somehow, the logical side wins, reminding me that I'm beautiful, I'm brave, I'm strong, and screw what the world says.
You don't grow up in foster care for almost 8 years without having emotional, mental, physical, psychological scars. You don't go through being bullied for being different without getting more scars. Those scars run deep. No... scars is not the appropriate word.
Maybe battle wounds, because it is so easy to reopen the wounds. For years, I've struggled, because different wounds reopen at different times. Usually it isn't more than a couple wounds at a time, but each time the battle wound reopens, its as if it were a fresh wound.
But every day I have to remind myself... EVERY DAY I have to remind myself to keep fighting, that I am a fighter. No
August 26, 2017

My Inner Demon -- Err... Outer Demon?April 2007
‘Time to get up Rowena…’
‘Five more minutes….’ The tanned skinned, sepia haired, brown-eyed girl pulled her blanket over her head.
‘I said it was time to get up. THAT MEANS NOW!’
She sighed and threw off the covers. ‘FINE! I’m getting up Mom!’ She walked over to her bathroom and looked in the mirror. The makeup covered washcloth still sat there, a painful reminder of the torture she went through yesterday. She looked down at her painted pink nails and frowned. Somewhere on the floor was the nude lipstick color she borrowed for the dance. The blue dress she had worn hung up on the back of her bathroom door. She then stared at the pills on the counter.  They were taunting her.
Birth Control.  She’d been on it all through high school. And for no real good reason. She wasn’t sexually active. Nor did she intend to be for a very long time. She picked up th
August 29, 2017


And then of course, there is today.  You can see right about the time where my identity finally started clicking into place, where I really started to fully accept that masculine part of myself.  Life at home still is difficult. But we're managing.  I finally put my foot down last night, and almost a year after my transition journey began, my husband started to use they/them pronouns.  What the future holds for me, as far as social and medical transitioning, I don't know yet.  But I do know this now... I finally can see myself.  And amazingly enough, others, though they can't quite put a finger on what it is by name, are starting to see it too.  

As for coming out, well, that's still a process.  I've requested that we finally tell my in-laws, because we can't keep hiding it from them when my parents know, and well because frankly, I want to publicly come out so I can finally begin the rest of my transition, in whatever form that takes.  Until now, its been a mental transition, a little bit social, but mostly mental transition.  I had to learn to let go of all the social, religious, and environmental shit affecting me from seeing that I don't have to be female.  Let go of the fear of being seen as anything other than female.  And learn to fight for my own gender and sexuality.   But on another part of coming out, I have started that finally social media coming out process over the past couple months in the one place I haven't come out.  Everywhere but facebook, I am a loud and proud non-binary, queer ass freak.  But even on facebook, I changed.

In June, I changed my profile photo to have the non-binary flag as a filter.  I have another filter on top of that, the Pulse shooting filter that is rainbow pulse line with the words 'We will not let hate win' above it.  And the actual picture is a photo of me wearing a dress (UGH... but it was an Institute [church at school place for those of you who don't know Mormon terminology] dance at the local community college.  Had to wear 'feminine clothing') with my guy friend's fedora.


In September I then noticed that there was an 'other' gender option with a box where you could fill in your gender.  But beyond that, I noticed that they changed it so you can also use they/them pronouns.  So I did.  Now my profile looks like this where the gender box is:


  I also was brave enough to put my contact info for all the places I am out openly  -- Which is brave considering I had changed my twitter handle right about that time too.

I also once again changed my profile picture, to a similar one as the previous, but this time it included a fedora AND tie


And well today... I changed my nicknames to also include Ren, changed my profile name to also include Ren.  (Which you won't get proof of, since my FB has my full real name on it)



But the bravest thing I did today?  I changed my about me section.  I decided to just copy and paste the text since its long.

"That's right folks.  You heard it here... well I guess not first, but whatever.  I'm loud. I'm proud. I'm shy (I know, surprise! -- for some reason this comes as a surprise to people). Caramel skin to be envious of, oh yeah, I'll own that. I hate crowds.  I hate being alone. I've got anxiety galore... Gender Dysphoria definitely hits me hard some days... (Okay most days).  Did I mention I love my jeans and most importantly my boots?

Long story short, I'm your average crazy, weird, non-binary (trans) queer freak with an amazing personality.

But my most important title is Mom. Two amazing kids just trying to make their way in the world with the tough hand they were dealt.  And I get to be their mom, and teach them how to fight all the odds.  I definitely say I'm pretty damn lucky.



*Fighter in Me*
I'm a fighter
Always have been,
Always will be.
I fight in the open.
I fight in secret.
I fight for my friends
I fight for my family.
I fight for my religion.
I fight for my freedom.
I fight for peace.
I fight for me.
I fight because I'm weak.
I fight because I'm strong.
I fight because I'm hateful.
I fight because I'm loving.
I fight because I'm strange.
I fight because I'm different.
I fight because I'm brown.
I fight because I'm me.
I fight hatred.
I fight racism.
I fight cruelty.
I fight bullying.
I fight abuse.
I fight danger.
I fight them all.
I fight in secret.
I fight in the open.
Always will be and
Always have been
A fighter...
~Written by moi




*Untold Beauty Misunderstood*
In this world filled with hate;
A world plagued by injustice;
A world fueled by anger;
A world consumed with misunderstanding;
A world antagonized with problems;
In that world, we stand.

We may be confused about who we are;
We may not understand this identity;
We may not know what our purpose is;
We may not see what our future holds;
We may not hear our own voices sing;
But there is one thing that is completely clear:

This country’s leadership may see me
And others just like me as problematic;
They see us as a burden
They believe us to be untrustworthy
They know we are scary
They tell others that we are sinful
They call us a distraction

For years, we have remained hidden,
Living in the dark shadows,
Begging to be seen,
Praying to be heard,
Hoping to be known,
Asking to be understood.

This way of life isn’t easy,
No matter what path we take.
Some choose to still keep their
True selves under wraps.
Some are bold enough to say,
‘Fuck you this is who I am.’
Others are somewhere inbetween.

But we are beautiful.
We are not a problem.
We are not a burden.
We are trustworthy.
We are not scary.
Who we are does not make us a sinner
We are not a distraction.

Believing these things kills.
Sometimes physically
Sometimes mentally
Sometimes emotionally.
Let us live.
Let us be free.
Let us be - OURSELVES.

For others out there like me,
You may not see it now,
But you shine.
And you are loved.
You are stronger than you know.
Remember, your beauty goes beyond gender.
Your beauty is beyond compare.
We are transgender.
Be proud.

In this world filled with hate;
A world plagued by injustice;
A world fueled by anger;
A world consumed with misunderstanding;
A world antagonized with problems;
In that world, we stand.
~Written by moi..."

So that's where I am at, one year later.  Maybe soon I'll get to make that official coming out post... Since no one ever looks at the about section of my FB anyway lol

WHAT WAS YOUR:

1. Last beverage: Dr. Pepper

2. Last phone call: probably husband

3. Last text message: husband (no one texts me )

4. Last song : Probaby a Lady Gaga song

5. Last time you cried: not long ago

HAVE YOU EVER:

6. Dated someone: Yup

7. Been cheated on: I don't think so.

8. Kissed someone & regretted it: Nope

9. Lost someone special: Yes. Though that's more the physical loss of death. But friendwise, others might have said they were special, but I wouldn't say I've lost anyone special. There was a time I might have thought some of the people in my life were special, and regretted losing them, but really they weren't

10. Been depressed: Who hasn't. Though if we're talking about the specific mental disorder, yes.

11. Been drunk and threw up: Nope. Never drunk a drop of alcohol in my life

LIST THREE FAVORITE COLORS:

12: Purple

13: Red and Black

14: Green and Silver



THIS YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. Made a new friend: Yes!

16. Fallen out of love: Yup.

17. Laughed until you cried: Too many times

18. Met someone who changed you: I don't know that they changed me persay... the change came by itself, but countless people have helped try to get me to see certain things about myself.

19. Found out who your true friends were: I guess?

20. Found out someone was talking about you: When am I not talked about? Its human nature to talk about people. Especially when they are different than you

21. Kissed anyone on your friend's list: I wish.


RANDOM:

22. How many people on your friends list do you know in real life: ..... I think like one

23. How many kids do you want: 2. So goal reached. (Used to want four though)

24. Do you have any pets: Do my kids count?

25. Do you want to change your name: Yes and no

26. What did you do for your last birthday: I don't remember honestly

27. What time did you wake up today: no comment

28. What were you doing at midnight last night: Watching Elementary I think

29. Name something you CANNOT wait for: Life to start again

30. Last time you saw your Mother: A month ago.

31. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life: Get rid of my female anatomy. Its fucking with me too much

32. What are you listening to right now: Washing machine and a kid in the bath

33. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: I would like to ignore that part of my life please.  Unless we're talking the family friends. I guess those toms are okay

34. Who's getting on your nerves right now: husband, parents, kids, people in general

35. Most visited webpage: Sta.sh, Rinmaru, transforum

36. Longest Relationship: 9 years

37. Best Online Friend: I wouldn't be able to pick

38. Relationship Status: Married... ish

39. Zodiac sign: Taurus

40. Male or female: Why do we have to be binary?

44. Hair color: very dark brown. (Many people think its black, but its not)

45. Long or short: We still talking about my hair? Its short... but I'm growing it out again.

46. Height: Too short.

47. Do you have a crush on someone: Yeah... a couple people. *blush*

48. What do you like about yourself: A lot of things.

49. Piercings: Don't have any, kinda want them, but don't want to risk it with all the metals I react to

50. Tattoos: Nope. Kinda thought about getting one though

51. Righty or lefty: Depends. Right handed, Left-footed.  Although kinda ambi


FIRSTS:

52. First surgery: Not really had any... Although random factoid... They consider wisdom teeth being pulled a surgery, but not my female anatomy getting stitch up after giving birth. How much sense does that make?

53. First piercing: lobes at 10 years old. Let em close up though

54. First best friend: First one I remember -- Misty.

55. First sport you joined: Uh.... lemme think. I played a lot of sports... Oh, I guess ballet would be the first one. But for those of you who don't consider dance a sport (btw it totally is) I guess first would be basketball.

56. First vacation: Uh... The Outer Banks in NC I guess?


RIGHT NOW:

57. Thinking about: How my parents are so fucking idiotic in thinking I can be 'fixed'

58. Craving: Ice cream

59. Eating: Nada

60. Drinking: Pepsi

61. I'm about to: put my son down for a nap *fingers crossed* and then write?

62. Listening to: My washing mashing

63. What time is it: 2:30


YOUR FUTURE:

64. Want kids: No. I don't want any more than the two I have.

65. Get married: Already married... but I wish I had a marriage strong enough to weather a transition

66. Career: Parent


WHICH IS BETTER:

67. Lips or eyes: Eyes.

68. Hugs or kisses: Most of the time... hugs. I don't get enough from adult people. Kisses are great, but I just want to feel loved

69. Shorter or taller: Me... I'd love to be taller.  But preference wise? Doesn't matter because most people are taller than me

70. Older or Younger: Older usually.

71. Romantic or spontaneous: Is both an option?

72. Nice stomach or nice arms: Hmmmm... stpmach I guess

74. Hook-up or relationship: Relationship

75. Furries or Scalies?: Neither


HAVE YOU EVER:

76. Kissed a stranger: No.

77. Drank hard liquor: No

78. Lost glasses/contacts: All ... the... freakin... TIME.

79. Sex on first date: Nope

80. Broken someone's heart: Yes

81: Had a crush on a person of your gender: Yes. Before and after realizing I'm trans.

82. Been arrested: Nope

83. Turned someone down: Yup

84. Cried when someone died: Yes

85. Fallen for a friend: Too many times

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

86. Yourself: Depends on the moment

87. Miracles: Sometimes

88. Love at first sight: Honestly, don't know. It'd be nice

89. Heaven: Yes

90. Santa Claus: Nope.

91. Kiss on the first date: If I like the person, why the hell not?

92. Angels: Yes


ANSWER TRUTHFULLY:

94. Had more than 1 girlfriend/boyfriend at a time: No.

95. Did you sing today: Not yet.

96. Ever cheated on somebody: Nope

97. If you could go back in time, how far would you go: I wouldn't.

98. The moment you would choose to relive: .... No idea

99. Are you afraid of falling in love: Yes. 


Random last question:

100. What are you're nicknames and names you like to be called: Ren, Rowena, Row, Ro, Runi, Eamon, E, Amruniel, Bob, and a few others related to my RL name so yeah.