Jules, if it's alright to write a small thank you for your beautiful writing.
In your well prosed exploration of the internal, your words are some sort of trans-dissociative euphoric delight reaching every part of my soul, as much as, deep heartache in knowing what it's like to live with, what we've bared...Please forgive me, as much as I hid in the books, unlike you, I found solace in disaffection more than education, becoming somewhat rough around the edges and uncouth, to a point of falling in-love with that inclusive simplicity at times too, in addition to the mixed-abilities. So if I mistype, miscommunicate or miss something this will be in that dysfunction and ignorance, but not in intention. Dilatorily, it is something, regardless of different roads travelled, to find resonance in our trans-reality.
Your words validate existence, experience and give reason to live <3 All the love to you in this. For the first time in my life... I don't feel alone, discounted or unheard as a trans(masc) and non-binary person with... dissociation. I hope this isn't clutching at straws to feel, in small confirmation of the accumulated 32 years of personal lay-theory still wrapped in some self-disbelief; the mind disassociated to survive the adversities, with extension of protecting and numbing myself as a formative trans being. I mean, in all your cerebral cognizance, you describe succinctly while avoiding the abyss; yet perfectly placing the feeling of it in everyday reality.
I'm not sure my mushed word soup has ability, but I'll try... we needed your words and do as a global community.. but this doesn't come close, to the some sort of whispered screaming soul thank you I want to send across the sea and land mass between us.
In deep respect... and small awareness; this is my first glance of your work, I'm not as well read and responding just to a moment written. If I can just give a moment to worship your words.. and relate.
It's everything to read part of your journey of discovery in disconnect, how it persists and the joyous moments of realising unknowing knowing, even in search of opposition, only finding places affirming 'we were always this', in amongst the fog and absence. We simply survived and became the person we always were. Your coming to peace with the depression of it, gives so much life-affirming hope.
If it's alright to write as a white person, from a mixed-heritage family raised by my Sri-Lankan Sinhala speaking grandparents, it's just everything to read an academic perspective that isn't whitewashed, with lived understandings of a families migration journey and the nostalgia of intergenerational dissonance in dialects, languages and accents. Just freshly as it is, without the stigmas. Something in the water your of recall oscillates to a time last year, if it's alright to gently share; after being requested to dig out a picture of the child for a support worker, post semi-acceptance of 'DID', finding a photo of a 90's kid sat in safety between adored aunties, all beaming cheeky smiled, big loose jumper, my father's cap worn backwards falling about my ears. Remembering Archie & Seeya. That moment of processed click as sudden as that camera flash. Almost yearning for that confidence, but still somehow taking a few seconds too long to look down and see the uniform I identified with then... is now me on T, feeling as right and as it always was. Yet somehow still feeling warming surprise, like the first sun rays of a blue sky after monsoon absorbing in the skin. Eyes did that face leaking stuff in joy, finally feeling my heartbeat.
Jules, my love, if it's permissible for the f*cks given about properness to go out the window, and just gush.... Thank-you for writing this, you and your words in this moment are just soul-loved.
Although I'm not able to use the word victim, thank you for the work put in to describe some of the harmful experience, de-shaming process and recovery. Thank you, from small stance of having been conditioned to survived and only in giving the assigned life to the women's sector finding queer theory; the finding meaning to the continuous inevitable crashing into some wordless form of 'i'm just they and he', but still not feeling not allowed. I love how you describe negotiating the binary counterbalance of mind swing- splits in forced 'good, bad or repair' survival thinking, unease around the contradiction and blanks so loud, but deep gentle soul knowing we do exist, despite the hell of it. We came back to the same place and never really disappeared; just learned words.
As a single trans-parent... I guess... I sort of did this discovery in the field, (and rest assured in therapy!!) I'm no perfect system by any stretch.... but if it helps fill the books of we exist; small lived affirmations from my peacefully birthed and thriving kids! .... that internal 90's kid gets along really well with my now-life self-identifying non-binary 7 year old... it's everything; even in what we face now... that my 10 year old keeps mentioning they are questioning and charges around with their 'my gender is mine to decide' badge. We made trans inclusive wellness resources together, in remembrance of all the constructs that informed my child self he could not be himself. It ain't easy... but with the type of support that most parents need (if they're honest!).... we exist now as a trans parent and non-binary + questioning family, in full circle, figure of 8 or just a scribble healing... damn it, we exist anyway :) Personally, the greatest healing came when I gave the kids their rights to be, where we could not. Just watching (alright yes, and freaking out in the corner as any parent would!) as their innate identity develops, free to rage 'I'm just me', even if part of me still finds words, ... pennilessly fearful of course, but non the less everyday affirmative in feeling; Yes, I remember that question, curiosity, it's the same, so... it was always simply natural, subjected to safety and now we all are. (if I disconnect from the news sometimes at least!)
If it's alright to say, reading your words makes the journey feel real in weight of all the critique, hopeful and possible that we can continue to exist, we ain't no fluke, as a trans person, even if we also happen to live with dissociation: Transitioning wasn't splitting, it's overcoming the shields of mind to become a whole person.
All the love to you Jules and your beautiful mind... sorry for the ramble.. but.. soul thank-you from every atom.
You are a truly magnificent privilege to read and blessing in this world. You she-glow <3
or you know, i guess what i want to just say, in human sense is... thanks and love sibling, your words ease the loneliness x
Jules, if it's alright to write a small thank you for your beautiful writing.
In your well prosed exploration of the internal, your words are some sort of trans-dissociative euphoric delight reaching every part of my soul, as much as, deep heartache in knowing what it's like to live with, what we've bared...Please forgive me, as much as I hid in the books, unlike you, I found solace in disaffection more than education, becoming somewhat rough around the edges and uncouth, to a point of falling in-love with that inclusive simplicity at times too, in addition to the mixed-abilities. So if I mistype, miscommunicate or miss something this will be in that dysfunction and ignorance, but not in intention. Dilatorily, it is something, regardless of different roads travelled, to find resonance in our trans-reality.
Your words validate existence, experience and give reason to live <3 All the love to you in this. For the first time in my life... I don't feel alone, discounted or unheard as a trans(masc) and non-binary person with... dissociation. I hope this isn't clutching at straws to feel, in small confirmation of the accumulated 32 years of personal lay-theory still wrapped in some self-disbelief; the mind disassociated to survive the adversities, with extension of protecting and numbing myself as a formative trans being. I mean, in all your cerebral cognizance, you describe succinctly while avoiding the abyss; yet perfectly placing the feeling of it in everyday reality.
I'm not sure my mushed word soup has ability, but I'll try... we needed your words and do as a global community.. but this doesn't come close, to the some sort of whispered screaming soul thank you I want to send across the sea and land mass between us.
In deep respect... and small awareness; this is my first glance of your work, I'm not as well read and responding just to a moment written. If I can just give a moment to worship your words.. and relate.
It's everything to read part of your journey of discovery in disconnect, how it persists and the joyous moments of realising unknowing knowing, even in search of opposition, only finding places affirming 'we were always this', in amongst the fog and absence. We simply survived and became the person we always were. Your coming to peace with the depression of it, gives so much life-affirming hope.
If it's alright to write as a white person, from a mixed-heritage family raised by my Sri-Lankan Sinhala speaking grandparents, it's just everything to read an academic perspective that isn't whitewashed, with lived understandings of a families migration journey and the nostalgia of intergenerational dissonance in dialects, languages and accents. Just freshly as it is, without the stigmas. Something in the water your of recall oscillates to a time last year, if it's alright to gently share; after being requested to dig out a picture of the child for a support worker, post semi-acceptance of 'DID', finding a photo of a 90's kid sat in safety between adored aunties, all beaming cheeky smiled, big loose jumper, my father's cap worn backwards falling about my ears. Remembering Archie & Seeya. That moment of processed click as sudden as that camera flash. Almost yearning for that confidence, but still somehow taking a few seconds too long to look down and see the uniform I identified with then... is now me on T, feeling as right and as it always was. Yet somehow still feeling warming surprise, like the first sun rays of a blue sky after monsoon absorbing in the skin. Eyes did that face leaking stuff in joy, finally feeling my heartbeat.
Jules, my love, if it's permissible for the f*cks given about properness to go out the window, and just gush.... Thank-you for writing this, you and your words in this moment are just soul-loved.
Although I'm not able to use the word victim, thank you for the work put in to describe some of the harmful experience, de-shaming process and recovery. Thank you, from small stance of having been conditioned to survived and only in giving the assigned life to the women's sector finding queer theory; the finding meaning to the continuous inevitable crashing into some wordless form of 'i'm just they and he', but still not feeling not allowed. I love how you describe negotiating the binary counterbalance of mind swing- splits in forced 'good, bad or repair' survival thinking, unease around the contradiction and blanks so loud, but deep gentle soul knowing we do exist, despite the hell of it. We came back to the same place and never really disappeared; just learned words.
As a single trans-parent... I guess... I sort of did this discovery in the field, (and rest assured in therapy!!) I'm no perfect system by any stretch.... but if it helps fill the books of we exist; small lived affirmations from my peacefully birthed and thriving kids! .... that internal 90's kid gets along really well with my now-life self-identifying non-binary 7 year old... it's everything; even in what we face now... that my 10 year old keeps mentioning they are questioning and charges around with their 'my gender is mine to decide' badge. We made trans inclusive wellness resources together, in remembrance of all the constructs that informed my child self he could not be himself. It ain't easy... but with the type of support that most parents need (if they're honest!).... we exist now as a trans parent and non-binary + questioning family, in full circle, figure of 8 or just a scribble healing... damn it, we exist anyway :) Personally, the greatest healing came when I gave the kids their rights to be, where we could not. Just watching (alright yes, and freaking out in the corner as any parent would!) as their innate identity develops, free to rage 'I'm just me', even if part of me still finds words, ... pennilessly fearful of course, but non the less everyday affirmative in feeling; Yes, I remember that question, curiosity, it's the same, so... it was always simply natural, subjected to safety and now we all are. (if I disconnect from the news sometimes at least!)
If it's alright to say, reading your words makes the journey feel real in weight of all the critique, hopeful and possible that we can continue to exist, we ain't no fluke, as a trans person, even if we also happen to live with dissociation: Transitioning wasn't splitting, it's overcoming the shields of mind to become a whole person.
All the love to you Jules and your beautiful mind... sorry for the ramble.. but.. soul thank-you from every atom.
You are a truly magnificent privilege to read and blessing in this world. You she-glow <3
or you know, i guess what i want to just say, in human sense is... thanks and love sibling, your words ease the loneliness x