Just because

This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

I just felt like writing today.

I don’t have any real reason, anything pressing on my mind,

but I felt the need to put fingers to keys.

Earbuds in my ears, gentle piano music piping through.

My writing music.

I woke up before 4 pm today.

I’m already on my second cup of coffee.

I talked to my pdoc, and we discussed options.

Different anti-depressants that may be activating.

We’re restarting my Ritalin, something that the trauma unit discontinued.

And that’s when I started having problems with sleeping too much.

We’re also raising my antidepressant.

Hopefully this fixes it.

It will be a week or two before I know, she doesn’t use electronic prescriptions and will have to mail me a paper script.

She’s the best psychiatrist I’ve ever had, but at her age even a fax machine seems advanced.

She works for herself, no staff, just a tiny little messy office in an apartment building.

Of course, now she’s working from home. All of our appointments done via phone call.

I’m not even sure that she owns a computer.

I’ve wondered what will happen if she dies. Who will inform me?

Will I just suddenly not get the call at our scheduled time, and eventually I’ll find a new prescriber?

Weird thoughts that run through my head.

I’m starting on the preparations for the Florida trip.

Laundry is gathered, list is started, plans to clean out the fridge more completely for trash night tonight.

Tomorrow we will dig out the car and run some errands.

It’s still snowing.

Yesterday it was tiny little flakes, today it’s big and fluffy.

It’s supposed to rain and get icy.

Ew.

Snow days used to be the only days I took a break.

Running around for appointments and interesting things.

Plans with friends, the gym, long walks.

Snow days are just another day now.

I’m such a homebody.

Finding the balance between safety and using it as an excuse is just hard.

I haven’t found that point yet.

This trip is taking me way outside of my covid comfort zone.

But it’s with good reason.

And it will break the monotony that has become my life.

A monotony that so many people feel right now.

Ew.

Today my pdoc called me a lady.

I got that gross feeling that I get when I’m misgendered.

I don’t think I’ve ever told her though.

And by the time I realized I should say something, the moment had passed and we were on to other topics.

It’s hard to know when to say something, and when to just let it pass.

We’re heading south.

I know I’ll get “ma’am”ed and “miss”ed on a regular basis.

I’ll get that gross feeling but just let it go.

It’s easier that way.

I don’t get the weird looks and the lack of understanding.

I’m not a girl.

This is a Really Real Gender Post.

I’ve been sitting on this one for awhile. Trying to decide if I wanted to really put myself out there with this.

But it’s my birthday, and I want to start my next year of life being authentically me. I can’t preach radical vulnerability, when I am refusing to be vulnerable because it’s uncomfortable.

This is a long one, I’ve read it about a dozen times trying to shorten it, and it’s just not happening.

I’m non-binary, and my gender is somewhere in the middle, in flux, strange (as in different), queer.

I prefer the term genderqueer.

I’ve let go of the notion that I have to be female, because society tells me I’m a female due to the body parts I was born with.  And the more I accept this, the more comfortable I’ve become. I feel like me, I feel like I’m free to be me.

I’m not fighting to overcome something that feels inherently false.

I’m able to just be, and let things settle where they will.

And it’s scary as fuck.

This has been hard for me to understand, so I know it’s probably hard for some of you.

How can I love dresses and skirts and bright flashy things, and not be a girl?  How can I have a vagina and these incredible boobs, and not be a girl?

Because those things don’t pertain to gender.  Gender is separate from all of that.

“Some genderqueer people continue to identify partially with one gender, others do not. What they share is a deep, persistent unease with being associated only with the binary gender assigned to them from infancy—apart from that, their expressions, experiences, and preferences vary greatly from individual to individual.” (Taken from an article on Slate)

So what does this mean?  What changes?

I spent a lot of time thinking about this. Now that I’ve realized my feelings all along were because I’m genderqueer what do I need to change to feel more at home in my skin?

Mostly it’s an internal thing.  I feel more at ease knowing I don’t have to be something I’m not. I can just be me.

I have decided to switch to they/them pronouns, however, she/her is still acceptable. She/her mainly bothers me because people are just assuming I’m a girl, because I look “like a girl.” It feels uncomfortable to have society at large assuming I’m female just because of the way my body looks.

My brain doesn’t feel the way my body presents itself.

I’ve realized that you can’t look at ANYONE and assume their gender . . .I mean, you can, because anyone can assume, but the fact is, just because I look female and wear a female body, doesn’t mean my brain is female.

It’s taken me a long time to realize that and accept it.

I don’t expect everyone to understand. I expect there are more than a few people that will refuse to use they/them pronouns, probably quite a few people who think I’m full of shit, and there’s even some people I’m blocking from this post because I’m just not ready to go there with them.

I’m not going to hide this from the general public, and have an internal fight with myself, constantly, just to avoid making some people uncomfortable.

I’m still Tina, I’m still quirky and open and lovable.

I’m not a girl.

And I don’t think I’ve ever been, I just wasn’t ready to be this open.  Not with myself and definitely not with anyone else.

I hope everyone will listen to this part of my story with the same respect and understanding as you’ve all listened to the rest of my story.

And if you can’t, kindly show yourself out.