To Write is to Know

One can not be in a state of constant dissociation and also write. To write we have to be connected to our knowing, our truth, and for me, my story. Writing for me is a state of mindfulness and tellingly I have not written in five years. I was asked recently by one of my therapists what the downside of being mindful is. My instant reaction was that there is none. Mindfulness is always the goal, is it not? But when I got quiet, an answer came: “Because I can no longer disassociate.” My answer is not wrong, but also not right. Our nervous system needs a break. We need times of rest and to disengage to be able to heal. Clearly extended periods of disassociation is not a good thing. But the thing about mindfulness is that you can be mindful of doing (or not doing) anything. That is in itself mindfulness. 

It feels good to write again. It’s hard to believe how long it has been. I have a tendency to write once I feel like I have gotten through an experience. It’s when I’m on the other side and have reflected on my growth that words seem to percolate out of me. The last few years have been some of my hardest. 

My mental health has been a huge challenge lately. Five years ago I was misdiagnosed as bi-polar. A psychiatrist had a fifteen minute conversation with me, diagnosed me and thus began a snowball of destructive care for a disease I did not have. I was taken off the one drug I feel actually did something in fear that it would activate my “mania” and in the next several years was placed on almost every mood stabilizer out there. I had huge reactions to these medications, some so horrible I needed to be hospitalized. Nothing seemed to be getting better, I was suicidal, depressed, anxious, I gained forty pounds from the drugs, my brain chemistry was completely out of whack and I felt hopeless. 

I continued to try different psychiatrists until I found one who took the time to dive into my history. He asked me about my trauma history, my mood regulation, my medical history, how and when I got different diagnoses. After a long evaluation, he looked at me and said, “You don’t have bi-polar. You have complex trauma and you use manic energy to cope and gain a sense of control. You are not clinically manic in any way. You are hella anxious. You need the right meds, therapy and coping skills.” He stated that the fact that the mood stabilizers had not been doing anything, should have given previous doctors a clue of a misdiagnosis. Instead they just increased doses, added new medications, and pushed stronger meds. At one time I was taking twelve drugs. At this time I struggled simply following a conversation and staying awake. It amazes me just how limited medical providers' knowledge of trauma is and how it can manifest. Trauma can look like anything. It is a shape shiftier and unless you take the time, it can be missed.

I’m now back on my previous medication that worked and other drugs that help with PTSD. I’m off all mood stabilizers. My ADD is being treated. I take a class every week on coping skills. My psychiatrist found me amazing trauma specialists. I have seen many therapists in my life and got pretty good at the “talk therapy” rigmarole but my current therapist is actively treating the problem vs talking about the symptoms. I typically don’t come in and discuss my week. We get to work, he uses the technique of brain spotting with me. I am learning to be triggered and to sit in discomfort without moving from it. It is literally changing the way I think and how I show up in the world. My emotions are not this big scary place they once were and though it is hard at times for me, I’m feeling.

Recently I had an episode of heavy cleaning and organizing that went on for days. I got scared. I asked my therapist again, “Are you sure this is not mania?” I was reassured, “No, it simply means you are activated. You are processing something. Honor that and stop worrying about what things mean.” We laughed because telling me to stop thinking about anything is just funny.

I have learned to tell a different story to myself about my trauma. For so long I saw myself as this passive victim in situation after situation. I thought my reactions always led me to self sabotage and in the end, failure. It has been above all what has haunted me. Why can’t I finish school? Why do I struggle with maintaining a good job? Why have I not built the career I dream of? Why do I let my trauma control me? Here is what I have come to realize, those are some god damn loaded unfair questions that come straight from the patriarchy. 

When trauma or large triggers have happened, I have refocused my energy to the most important things in my life. When I was raped my sophomore year in college by a cop who threatened my life, I went home to be safe and heal. I wrote a letter to the editor of the school newspaper a week later calling attention to the college’s choice to protect itself over me. I filed a police report even after being told, “I will hurt you if I have to” by a cop and the college administration saying, “We think he or other cops could try to shut you up.” When my daughter was a baby and extremely sick in the hospital, I was kicked out of nursing school for missing too many classes. I made complaints to the administration and called for policy changes for parents. When my husband almost died repeatedly, I let my business as a birth educator dissolve to care for him. When I went to UNM and a professor made sexist comments that a women on campus was to blame for being raped because she turned down an offer to be walked to her car after a night class, I filled a Title 7 complaint against the University, won and forced his early retirement. This was never a matter of me giving into trauma. I have always chosen the path that took more courage. When I say I fought the system at every turn, I truly did. I did let trauma change me but it never controlled me. I was given the opportunity to show up to the world with authenticity and a willingness to be vulnerable. I have always chosen to share my story and be part of the change I dreamed of.

My vision of success was based on the ideal of the patriarchy. Do something that you are passionate about, make money, be recognized, be good at what I do, make a difference, advance, ect. This was never my truth. What was meant for me was to find my voice. I choose to focus on myself, my family, and my belief in the call for justice. I hope my voice made it possible for others to experience a more just world. I now listen to my KNOWING and follow that voice. I believe that if I truly listen, my knowing will NEVER lead me to the wrong decision. My success is not based on what I DO, it's in who I am. Mothering was NEVER my fall back plan, it was my calling. It saved me and brought me home to myself.

After writing the above, I hear voices come into my head. It’s too honest, too bolstering, too vulnerable, it's all ego. Specifically I think of what women will say. I can see them rolling their eyes. As I step into my whole story, I can not withhold sharing the role that women have placed in shaming me. We collectively silence women when they discuss trauma and it is insidious. I have had women question why I did not scream or fight the night of my rape and even accuse me of making it up. I have had a “friend” feed my rapist details of my mental process so he could better manipulate me in the weeks after in an attempt to prevent charges from being pressed. I have had a woman tell me that torture victims have healed and moved on better than me. While getting a pelvic, I had a female doctor who, with disdain in her voice, told me that I should be grateful that I can at least have kids after my rape because she never could. I have had a woman compare the literal blood we bleed from being raped, stating hers to be more traumatic. I really wonder what threatens women so much in my story. 

As human beings we often respond to the trauma of an individual or a group of people by creating that trauma in others. It is the ancient way of social hierarchy. We have chosen to dominate others before loving others. We have chosen to push down vs lift up. We have chosen to shame vs show empathy. Our way out has always been to take the power of others. To free ourselves from all trauma, be it historical, societal or personal trauma, we must first heal ourselves. We truly can not love others more than we love ourselves because our capacity for love has not been fully materialized. We also can not show up for others more than we can show up for ourselves. With that work we can turn our energy to also uplifting others who suffer. That work always starts with recognizing a trauma survivor's individual story as truth. The impact of traumatic events varies considerably from person to person. There are many factors in how trauma is processed in the brain. The importance of the immediate aftermath can not be understated. Rejection of a woman’s story and lack of immediate support causes extreme fragmentation. 

When my daughter was about three. She and her sister were playing outside in the yard at their grandparents home. After a few minutes, I looked around the yard and realized I could not see her anywhere. We all began searching and panic began to set in. My dad eventually found her. She had been running through the chicken coop and the door shut behind her. For about fifteen minutes she was terrorized by a mean rooster. She was physically fine but she was traumatized. My dad is a social worker and has responded to acute crisis his whole life. He looked at me and said we need to respond fully right now to all of her needs so this does not have a lasting effect. We all held her, listened to how scary it was, let her cry, created a plan so it could not happen again, reassured her that she was safe and eventually relocated that rooster deep into the woods. She still talks about that day and how scared she was. We can laugh about it now but we know how significant it was for her. I wonder what the effect would have been if I would have told her it was her fault for going in there, that she was over exaggerating how bad it was, that she could have just opened the door, that she can stop putting on a show with all her tears. Our society needs to respond to trauma completely differently. We must choose love, acceptance, empathy, reassurance and safety. 

We all hold our own stories and the stories of all the women that have come before us. My ability to let go of the patriarchal dictation of what success is, to rewrite the script, to be vulnerable, to love myself, fuck…to even talk about it; brings others to awareness to the work untouched inside of them. These women that have directly challenged me, wished to push me down and judged me; I choose to love. I choose to love them because they are me. They are the voices in my head telling me I am a failure and my experience should not be discussed openly. Some of us are not yet ready to do the work and some of us may never be. I wasn’t ready for a long time, until now. I am working on offering myself unconditional love and the nurturing I so desperately need.  I offer myself forgiveness for so many mistakes. And because I can love my brokenness, I can love yours. Today I love me, I love my trauma for all the opportunities to find myself and will continue to challenge myself to love others that need it the most.

Someone told me recently as a weapon that respect must be earned. I fundamentally disagree. Respect is seeing the divine in us all, respect is witnessing that we all carry darkness and light. Respect is about our stories. Respect is the gift we give each other to show we are inherently and unconditionally worthy. We are worthy just because we are. That is the work I continue to choose. 

Most days my spirit is lighter. I feel grounded, connected, excited for what comes next and have a more loving relationship with myself. I listen to my knowing. I speak what I like and what I need. I am no longer willing to betray myself for anyone else. I, above all, can count on me. My voice is worthy. It’s not that life isn’t hard! God damn is it hard but I’m not sure that is what this is about. I know now that life is a mixture of bad, good and mostly neutral. My goal is not some Hallmark idea of living a life full of happiness and joy.  Life is about walking the path with grace and gratitude. It’s about facing our shadows and finding the light. Above all else, it’s about love. Love is the divine, the sacred, the magic, the knowing, the point of it all. I feel a great shift in me. I really don’t think about suicide any more, I think about living. I am no longer running from discomfort, I am no longer numb. I rest when I need it and I return here to my writing. 

About Elle

I have resisted discussing Elle’s transition publicly out of a lot of fear. It didn’t feel like mine to comment on and my process seemed trivial to hers. With that said I didn’t give myself room to honor my story. I also didn’t speak my support in the way I truly feel. Elle’s gender identity was no surprise to me. Because we didn’t talk about it publicly, I know people pictured Elle coming up to me one day announcing they were a woman. I then think people thought I went and found a man to replace Elle. I could not control what people thought but I tried to show up with as much love as I could. Elle told me they were gender fluid on our second date. There were never any secrets. Our marriage was a harbor for Elle to express her feminie energy. I supported and created space for Elle to present female. I bought clothes, did make up and made love with Elle for the fifteen years we were together. But we did this all behind closed doors.

We were a queer couple living in the closet. Elle believed for most of that time that a full transition wasn’t something she wanted. I did find that comforting and believed it to be true. After reflecting for the past few years I have come to understand that I am attracted to gentle masculine energy. Even as a bi woman, it's the masculine energy in women that attracts me. I have felt so much shame for this. I feared I wasn’t this socially progressive person who can radically accept everyone. I was supposed to love Elle for Elle. I told myself that Jake and Elle are the same person thus my romantic love should be the same. I didn’t give myself enough credit. Radically accepting everyone does not mean being attracted to everyone. I fell in love with a dynamic loving masculine man. I created a life with Jake and I did miss him. The more I felt like Jake was disappearing, the more grief I felt and that followed with so much shame.

When we lived in Minnesota Elle struggled with dysphoria and it was literally killing her. They were sicker by the day with an auto-immune disease. I held them multiple times thinking they were going to die in my arms. I had accepted that I most likely was going to be a widow with three young kids. Thinking that the weather was a huge factor in her illness we took a leap to leave our community, family and home to save Elle’s life. We moved to Santa Fe, NM. A year after living here Elle was becoming stronger. She had a colonoscopy that didn’t show Crohn’s disease. They stopped having flares and came off all their medications. It was everything we hoped for. We both see now the true toll on Jake's body was hating himself.

On a road trip early in our time as New Mexicans, Elle turned to me and said that she would like to start hormones. I was genuinely excited. Who doesn’t want a husband with secret BOOBS? Elle explained again they don’t want to do a full transition but want to see if their brain gets the hormones it craves if the dysphoria would lessen. I saw her fear in this choice but she was ready. I don’t think I have ever been more proud of Elle than at that moment. As time moved forward, Jake seemed to be disappearing and Elle began to show up more often. I know she has always been Elle but I got to see her more. It was a confusing time. I woke up each day not knowing who I would interact with. How they carried their body, their voice, the way they communicated, their sexual desires and their contentment for life would shift. I missed my husband and I felt horrible for it.

I had always respected Elle’s request to stay in the closet. Her whole life she has been ashamed of who she is. I had grown up in a socially progressive community and had the queer community all around me. Elle was raised in conservative area and had never been shown acceptance of who she was. We also had eleven years of social progression between us. But there became a time where I was no longer comfortable living in the closet. I wanted to scream to the world that we were a queer family, that I loved a trans women and I inherently was queer myself. I needed community and support. Elle wasn’t ready yet. This was a breaking point. The toll of living in the closet was a lot on our relationship.

Elle and I had many problems completely unrelated to her gender identity, like any long term couple. In a hope to find a more supportive community for us, we also lived in the closet as a polyamorous couple. We had both dated and loved others. Again it may have looked one way to the outside world but there were no secrets. My relationship with George was not a reaction to Elle's transition but simply a way of life we had agreed upon from the very beginning. So much of my life was hidden away and with it my authentic identity. I was no longer willing to walk through life presenting a lie. We began our individual journey to find ourselves. I tried many things to find myself but I know now that journey was truly inside of myself. Elle has shared with me that my desire to end our romantic relationship set them free, maybe it did for us both. It was a wake up call to our own truth and pushed us forward to be the authentic woman we were.

Elle and I taught our kids to love everyone. They knew about different sexualities and gender identities from the moment they were born. But their parents' gender identity was kept from them till Elle and I started to grow apart. Their Mapa, the kids loving name for Elle, started to let themselves be seen and our kids have never once expressed anything but support. I was worried for them. Will they be bullied and accepted? How will this affect them? Will they be safe? But it has become one of their many superpowers. The kids have learned to love and accept others in a way I could only dream. They have become my teacher.

Aviana shared with me recently that people do stare at them in public with their other mom. She had begun to confront people defending their mom. Saying things like, “What are you staring at?” We know how many trans women are victims of hate crimes. I was scared and I had to talk with my kids about safety. I had to explain that many people hate trans women like their mom and we can’t challenge strangers. This was one of the hardest conversations of my life. Preparing your children for hate and potential violence because of their Mapa's gender.

Last summer Elle had a concert in the Railyard. George and I brought all the kids. The kids were so proud of their mom being their total authentic self in front of so many people performing. We danced and laughed. You could feel and see the joy. When she got off the stage the kids ran to her and hugged her. In that moment I felt so much pride for the family we created, for the love we will always share, for Elle’s journey, for the love my children have. Afterwards, we all chatted and Elle left for home with the kids. I followed her, carrying all the kids' stuff as they all walked hand and hand to the car. They passed a couple walking. This couple stopped, turned around, stared and then laughed profusely. I was horrified and prepared all of my responses in my head. But I looked past them to my family and none of them noticed. Nothing could touch the love they were floating on. I knew I could not protect my kids from the world but I had taught them to live their truths without shame.

A few months ago Avi came out as gay to me. Fitting with her generation, she came out in a text meme sitting right next to me on the couch. I looked over to her and tears flowed down her face. I said, “Is this real? Are you coming out to me?” She nodded in confirmation and I pulled her into me. I have never been more proud of her. I confirmed she was loved, accepted and even more celebrated. I want nothing more than for you to be you.

Elle and I can now both stand on top of the mountain and say “This is who I am.” We cheer each other on. We have struggles but we love as big as we can. I am so proud of who you are Elle. Thank you for teaching us all how to be our authentic self, even in a world that may not always accept it. Your ability to simply live your truth allows us all to live our own. Thank you for teaching our daughter that she gets to be unapologetically herself. Hell, thanks for teaching me that I get to be unapologetically myself. I wish I could offer you and our kids a more loving world. I wish I could always know you will be safe in body and spirit. But today and every day, I choose love. You are not alone. Be free. Be you. Be Elle.