Well, 2021 is over. This year has certainly been a doozy for me, and I’m sure there are many many others who can relate.
:warning: Just a brief warning for mentions and discussions of trauma, transphobia, and death :warning:
This year for me has been one of healing mostly, as well as finding out more about who I am and what I want. I’m coming to with my family’s thinly veiled transphobia hidden behind a honeyed facade of acceptance and allyship. I’m working through my feelings and grief of a deep loss I experienced when I was younger. I’m working on my trauma with childhood abuse, and working towards undoing the damage that caused. I lived on an indian reservation for several months taking care of my kookoum and learned so, so much about who I am within my community. I started a crafting business. I got a house. I got a wonderful, wonderful partner.
I also experienced another loss, this time at the hands of trans violence; a dear friend of mine was murdered, and made up one of the 470 deaths reported for Transgender Day of Remembrance this last year. Unfortunately, I can’t elaborate much on her death or who she was as her case is currently under active investigation. What I can say though is that she is deeply missed, and her ing is felt throughout our community.
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As I’m lying here in my bed in my apartment surrounded by boxes half packed for the move to my new house, I can’t help but think about where I am and where I’ve been. In this first photo here which I took sometime in early 2016, I feel like I’m looking at an entirely different person living an entirely different life. 6 years later, I’ve lived through 100 different lifetimes. I look like I could be related to that first picture, but not like we are the same person. 6 years ago I was still in high school, closeted to all but a few friends, and trapped in an abusive household that felt as if I’d never escape. My dysphoria made my body feel like a cage too; every day was a struggle just to press on, grin and bear it. Here I am in 2022, in the middle of a global pandemic, still pressing on. Pressing on with 5 years of hormones, a top surgery, and an actual paying job as a trans activist behind me. 6 years later and I’m the one leading the very same group that saved me in 2016.
6 years. The difference being 17 and 23. Damn I’m old.
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