#i will not be bringing a transphobe home for Christmas it’s not happening

[ivymarquis]

How am I supposed to go out into the world and attempt to date, knowing that John Price is a figment of our imaginations and not real. What is even the point

[callsign-jinx]

The Christmas Date | Chapter 4: Santa Tell Me

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Fem!Kerner!Reader

(Ron Kerner is Slider, Iceman’s backseater)

Wordcount: 2.8k

Summary: Y/n “Athena” Kerner and Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw hate each other. Everybody knows. What happens when they have to fake date for a whole week to avoid Iceman and Slider’s matchmaking plans?

(there won't be smut in this series)

Warnings: OKAY SO. If there is any transphobic person reading this, i’m sorry but it’s time to LEAVE. Iceman’s grandSON is trans, Rooster/Thena being supportive godparents, Rooster’s ex-gf still being a bitch, body dismorphia, mentions of alcohol, CAR ACCIDENT (everyone's okay don't worry), driving under the influence, mentions of death, mentions of Carole's death... you know the deal.

A/N: Yeah, I know. I should be taking some time to rest. I got bad news today, my heart is getting worse again and I have to go through surgery BUT writing is my coping mechanism so expect more works soon.

Tag list:@ducks118 @milestellerwife @craftymoonchaos @littlebadariell @xoxabs88xox @alexxavicry @tayrae515 @shrimping-for-all @mak-32 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @harper1666 @purplevortexx @abaker74 @ssprayberrythings @melllinaa @loveless-simp @k-k0129

(If you want to be tagged comment or sent an ask <3)

Previous | Next | Masterlist

The room is nothing short of amazing. If you hadn’t seen it before, you would never guess it had once been filled to the brim with princess-themed decorations. The transformation is incredible, and you can’t wait to see your nephew’s reaction, to see Rebecca and hear their thoughts on this new chapter of your lives.

Nick stands in the doorway, his gaze fixed on the towering 7-foot Christmas tree that Rooster had insisted on. “You went all extra with the Christmas tree,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“Christmas this year is special. Let’s make it one to remember,” Bradley replies, his eyes meeting yours, a small but meaningful smile tugging at his lips.

“Can I talk to you?” Rooster asks, his voice softer now.

“Oh, um, sure!” You nod, following him toward a quieter part of the house.

You both move into the kitchen, Rooster looking a bit on edge. “What’s going on?” you ask, noticing the tension in his shoulders.

“I don’t think we should lie to him—well, to Jess,” Rooster admits, his voice low.

You take a deep breath, knowing he’s right. How could you possibly lie to that kid? You hadn’t fully thought this through.

“Rooster, I get it, but if we tell him, then everyone will know. And you know my father will bring that girl over to meet you."

"Yeah, I know,” he sighs. “I don’t think we have much of a choice.”

Just then, you hear a car pull up outside. You glance toward the window. "That’s not Iceman’s car," you murmur, moving toward the front door.

Standing in the driveway is Rebecca’s car. She opens the door to help your nephew out, and you can see the worry etched across her face. Your nephew, dressed in a black beanie and a hoodie pulled tightly around him, steps out of the car, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Rooster, already beside you, reaches out to him. “Hey, buddy! Long time no see,” he says with a smile, arms open for a hug.

But the boy doesn’t respond. He turns and heads straight into the house, not acknowledging either of you, and quickly runs upstairs.

Rebecca walks up behind you, giving each of you a brief hug. “I’m sorry, guys. He’s been like this the whole ride home. He was excited about his new name, but now… he wants everything to change all at once. He wants it all, and he wants it now. I’m happy to see you, though.”

“Is he okay?” you ask, concern creeping into your voice.

Rebecca looks down, her eyes heavy. “He’s been begging me to cut his hair,” she admits, and you and Rooster both nod, understanding the weight of it. “I told him we’d wait until we got home so we could figure out what kind of haircut he wanted. But…” She trails off, her worry still apparent.

“He’s still just a five-year-old, Becca. It’s not going to be easy,” you tell her gently.

Nick steps outside to join you, giving his sister a quick hug. “Your son went straight to the bathroom. Didn’t even say hi.”

You exchange a glance with Rooster, and without another word, you’re already rushing toward the bathroom, Rooster hot on your heels. You both know that Sarah keeps her special scissors for Iceman’s hair in the second drawer. Jesse knows that too. You try the door handle, but it’s locked.

“Hey, buddy, it’s Uncle Roos. Can you open up for me?” you call out, keeping your voice gentle.

“No!” comes the muffled reply, and you can hear the hurt and frustration in his voice.

Rooster’s voice lowers. “Y/n, he could hurt himself.”

“I know,” you snap, trying to keep your cool. You knock softly on the door. “Hey bud, can you tell me your name? Mom said you got a new one.”

The silence stretches on, each second feeling longer than the last. You hold your breath, straining to hear anything through the door. All you can hear is the frantic beating of your own heart in your chest.

“…Jesse.”

You smile softly, a little relieved. “Jesse, huh? That’s such a cool name.” You sit down cross-legged on the floor, ready to wait as long as it takes for him to open up.

“Thank you. I chose it myself,” Jesse says quietly, his voice a little stronger now.

“You did? Woah, Jesse. That’s amazing. Much cooler than mine,” you respond, trying to keep the tone light.

“I’m not going to open the door,” Jesse replies, his voice calmer but still tinged with sadness. It cuts through you like a knife.

“It’s okay, pal. I just want to talk. It’s been so long since we saw each other, and I think you’re a lot different now,” you say gently, hoping to ease him into opening up.

“I’m different. But mom doesn’t want me to be different,” he murmurs, his voice small and uncertain.

You glance over your shoulder at Becca, who is nervously biting her nails, anxiety written all over her face. You need to get through to him, and fast.

“You sure? Because your mom called us this morning and told us to change your room. She wants you to be yourself, sweetheart,” you reply, your voice warm and reassuring.

“You mean that?” Jesse’s voice quivers with doubt, and your heart aches seeing him struggle with it.

“Absolutely,” you say, trying to bring a smile to your face. “We got rid of all the princesses, and now your room has a bunch of Paw Patrol stuff. We even found Marshall’s fire truck!”

There’s a pause, then you hear him inch closer to the door. “Mom, did you do that?”

“Uncle Roos and Aunt Thena helped me, but yes. I told them to do it,” you explain, smiling as Jesse’s hand slowly reaches for the door handle.

“Hey, Jesse,” Rooster calls out softly, his voice gentle but firm. “I know what it feels like to hate what you see in the mirror. If you open this door, Aunt Thena and I will take you to the hairdresser, so they can give you a great haircut.”

“Promise?” Jesse’s voice is tentative, but you can sense hope creeping in.

“I promise, buddy,” Rooster reassures him, offering a comforting smile.

Jesse finally opens the door, his small frame standing in front of you. He looks up at both of you, his face still full of uncertainty but now softening with the promise of change.

Without a word, he throws his arms around you and Rooster. The hug is tight, desperate even, as if he's trying to hold on to the hope you’ve just given him. Then, without missing a beat, he runs over to Rebecca. “I’m sorry, mom… I just wanted to be like the rest.”

Rebecca’s eyes soften, and she pulls him into her arms. “I know, baby, I know. But you have to understand that you can’t get everything all at once. Mom’s not a hairdresser. How was I supposed to cut your hair?”

“I’m sorry… Can I see my room?” Jesse’s voice brightens as he steps back.

The sudden shift from sorrow to excitement is almost comical. You all laugh, the tension melting away. Jesse might be changing, but he’s still just a five-year-old, and his enthusiasm is as loud as it is infectious.

“Let’s go see it!” you exclaim.

With that, Nick, Rebecca, and Jesse head toward the room, while you sit back on the floor with Rooster. The weight of the day is already starting to settle on you, and you realize how exhausting this all has been. And it’s barely noon.

“I’ll go get the car ready,” you say, standing up with a stretch before making your way toward the door.

Rooster nods, giving you a soft smile as you leave him alone in the quiet of the house.

I know what it feels like to hate what you see in the mirror.

His words linger in your mind, looping like a melody you can’t shake. The urge to turn around, to press him for answers, bubbles under the surface, but you fight it.

You force yourself to remember—just for a second—that you hate him. That he’s the reason for so much of your pain, the one who dismantled everything you held dear. If he’s struggling now, he has a network of people he can rely on.

He doesn’t need you. And you refuse to let yourself believe otherwise.

While Rooster and Jesse stay behind at the salon, you wander into a tactical gear shop nearby, determined to find the perfect Christmas gift for your nephew. You hadn’t bought anything yet, and this felt like the right moment. After browsing for a while, you spot a leather flight jacket in just his size. Perfect. You even arrange to have a name tag made—“Marshall” seemed like a fitting call sign for a kid obsessed with fire trucks.

Bag in hand, you leave the shop feeling triumphant. But as you step outside, your phone rings, and you glance at the screen, smiling at the name flashing across it.

“Natasha Trace, I live for your calls,” you greet her playfully.

“Are you dating Rooster and didn’t bother to tell me?! I’M YOUR BEST FRIEND!” Natasha practically screams into the phone, making you wince. You pull it away from your ear, but even with some distance, her voice is loud and clear.

“Hello to you too, Nat,” you reply, rolling your eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, you little bitch,” she snaps, as if she can somehow see you through the phone.

You sigh. “We’re not dating.”

“What? Hold on, I’m FaceTiming you,” she declares before hanging up abruptly. Moments later, your phone buzzes again, and Natasha’s face fills the screen, her expression a mix of suspicion and determination.

“Spill,” she demands.

You sigh again, resigning yourself to the inevitable interrogation. “Iceman and my dad decided to play matchmakers, and we didn’t want random people ruining Christmas Eve dinner, so… we lied. Simple as that.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her expression unimpressed. “And here I thought you were finally getting laid.”

“Natasha!” you yelp, your cheeks heating up as you glance around to make sure no one heard.

“What? I’m just stating facts,” she says, smirking.

You groan, covering your face with your free hand. “Remind me why I answer your calls again?”

“Because you love me,” she replies without hesitation, grinning. “Now, go play fake lovers with Rooster and call me back when this blows up into a full rom-com situation. Merry Christmas!”

“Oh, wait! Guess who we ran into this morning?” you say, eager to change the subject. “Mandy.”

“Mandy? As in Mandy the whore?” Natasha asks, her tone sharp with disbelief.

“The very same. She was with Solo. They’re dating,” you reveal, watching as Natasha’s eyes widen in exaggerated shock.

“WHAT?! Oh my God, do you think that’s why—”

“Y/N! Fancy seeing you again!”

You look up from your phone, and there she is: Mandy, her overly polished smile fixed firmly in place. That smile grates on you in ways you can’t fully articulate.

“Mandy!” you greet, feigning surprise. Into the phone, you quickly say, “Nat, hold on, don’t hang up.” Rising to your feet, you plaster on your most polite expression. “Wow, twice in one day! What are the odds?”

Mandy’s smile doesn’t waver, but it’s as fake as ever. “Such a small world, isn’t it? Anyway, Solo thought it’d be great if the four of us went out sometime, caught up, and reminisced about the good old days.”

“Oh, I’d love to, but this week is packed with family stuff. After that, we’re heading back to the base for a few months, so—”

“What about tomorrow?” she interrupts, clearly uninterested in your excuses. “There’s this little pub downtown—”

“O’Malley’s,” you finish, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah, I know it. The owner’s a friend.”

“Perfect! Six o’clock it is,” she says brightly, leaving no room for debate.

You manage a reluctant nod. “Sure, tomorrow at six.”

Just then, Jesse bursts out of the salon and grabs your hand, tugging eagerly. “Auntie, it’s my turn! Let’s go!”

Mandy crouches down with an overly saccharine smile and coos, “Oh, what a beautiful little girl! What’s your name, princess?”

“I’m not a girl, you old bat!” Jesse snaps, pushing Mandy aside before bolting away. You watch in stunned silence as Mandy stumbles backward, her face a mix of shock and indignation. It takes everything in you to slap a hand over your mouth and stifle the laugh threatening to escape. From anyone else’s perspective, you might appear horrified by your nephew’s behavior, but anyone who truly knows you would see the glint of pure satisfaction in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Mandy,” you say quickly, attempting to sound apologetic. “Jesse can be a bit... spirited. I’ll have a word with him. We’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Bye!”

Before she can recover, you make a hasty retreat, practically jogging down the street. Once you’re out of earshot, Natasha’s hysterical laughter crackles through the phone.

“Oh my God, I love your niece!” she manages between laughs.

“Nephew,” you correct firmly, your tone softening. “It’s Jesse now. I’ll explain later, okay? I’ve got to go.”

“Alright, Thena. Take care,” Natasha says, still chuckling as you end the call.

Catching up with Rooster and Jesse, you kneel down to eye level with your nephew, your expression carefully serious. “Jesse, what you just did…”

“Auntie, I know it’s wrong. I just don’t like her,” Jesse says, his little face scrunching up in defiance.

“What did you do, young man?” Rooster asks, taking Jesse by the hand and guiding him to one of the chairs.

“That old lady who was talking to Aunt Thena called me a ‘girl.’ So I pushed her,” Jesse replies matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.

“Jess—” you start, trying to keep your composure.

“It was Mandy,” you interject, cutting yourself off.

Rooster’s face shifts from mild disapproval to amusement as he processes the information. He glances at you, then back at Jesse, before raising a brow in silent acknowledgment. Without a word, he opens his palm for a high-five.

Jesse grins and slaps his tiny hand against Rooster’s.

“Don’t tell your mom,” Rooster says, grinning mischievously.

“What are you going to wear for the party?” Sarah asks during dinner, with a cheerful, short-haired Jesse sitting beside you.

“What party?” you glance at Rooster, but he just shrugs, equally clueless.

“The Christmas Party! Didn’t your father mention it?”

You turn to your dad, who seems oddly engrossed in his food. “He didn’t tell me anything, as usual,” you reply dryly.

“Well, the town is hosting a Christmas party on the 25th. It’s formal, so you’ll need to wear a dress.” Sarah points at you with her fork. “No uniforms, only a dress. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am. And what about Bradley?”

“I’ll be wearing a suit, obviously. Gotta match with you,” Rooster says with a grin, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Please, for the love of God, don’t pick the dress yourself. You have horrible fashion sense.”

"Says the one who always wears Hawaiian shirts," you tease, grinning at him.

"They’re cool," Bradley defends, clearly proud of his fashion choice.

"No, they’re not," you laugh, and he retaliates by kicking your leg under the table.

"Ouch!" you exclaim, rubbing your shin.

"Sarah, darling, we need to get the Secret Santa sorted," Tom says, shifting the conversation as he helps Sarah clear the table.

"Oh, I have it all prepared!" Sarah beams, heading to the living room. She returns with a red Santa Claus hat, and with a flourish, announces, "All the names are in here. Y/n, dear, you first!"

You smile at her and pull a slip of paper from the hat, unfolding it and reading the name aloud. "Rooster."

Is this some kind of joke?

You're getting ready for bed, your mind racing with the events of the day. Rooster, once again, refuses to share the bed with you for the second night in a row, and you're starting to get used to the distance. Just as you're about to settle down, you remember about tomorrow's meeting with Mandy.

"Bradley."

"No, I'm not sleeping on the bed. If you want to get that close to me, you're gonna have to beg a little more," he says, his voice teasing.

"You wish. Anyway, Mandy insisted on meeting tomorrow. She wasn't taking no for an answer."

He sits up, his expression changing to one of disbelief. "Are you kidding me?"

"I don’t like the idea either, you know," you admit, running a hand through your hair.

"Is Solo coming too?" he asks, his tone flat. You nod, and he sighs, clearly annoyed. "You know how to say 'no,' right? Or do I need to teach you? It's not that hard. Look, it’s simple: 'Something has come up, and I can’t,' 'We already have plans.' Oh, and here’s the easiest one: 'No.'"

"I know how to say no, Bradshaw," you reply, your tone sharp.

He laughs dryly, clearly unimpressed. "If you knew how, I wouldn't have to be stuck in the same room with my ex and her new boyfriend. Again."

He turns off the lights and settles onto the floor, clearly uncomfortable, tossing and turning as he tries to find a better position.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, but you know he can hear you.

"Don't worry, Thena. Go to sleep," he replies, his voice muffled in the dark.

A few minutes go by, but sleep refuses to come. There's something nagging at you, something you need to know, something that will keep you awake if you don't ask.

"Rooster."

"Jesus, Thena, go to sleep," he groans, but after a few seconds, you hear the familiar sigh of surrender. "What?"

"What you said to Jesse... about hating what you see in the mirror... Is that how you feel?"

"Like you care."

"I don't. I'm just curious. You're usually so damn proud of that stupid face of yours. So... it doesn't really make sense."

He sits up on the floor, leaning his back against the bed, his head resting against the mattress. “It’s the scars.”

“Really?” you ask, inching closer, your hand hovering near his hair.

“Yeah… It’s a constant reminder of how I almost killed us,” he admits, his voice barely more than a whisper, heavy with sorrow.

Your hand moves instinctively to your own belly, your fingers tracing the familiar scarred skin. You have your own marks, your own memories, and you wish, more than anything, you could tell him it wasn’t his fault. But you’ve tried, time and time again, and it never changes. He still carries that burden.

“If it makes you feel better,” you say quietly, “lots of girls at the base are obsessed with those scars. And even some of the guys.”

“Why are you trying to make me feel better?” he asks, his voice tinged with confusion. You find yourself wondering the same thing.

“Because I don’t want to see you brooding all day. That wouldn’t exactly make me look like a good girlfriend,” you tease, offering a half-hearted smile.

“Aw, it’s little Y/n worried about me?” he mocks, shifting to lie down again, his voice light but still carrying a hint of sadness.

“Good night, Bradshaw,” you mutter, pulling the blanket up over your head, trying to hide the heavy feeling in your chest.

You dream of the accident again. It’s always the same—Rooster’s car pulling up in front of your house, the sound of the doorbell ringing over and over, his frantic shouts cutting through the night. It’s been years, but it feels as if it happened just yesterday.

Bradley’s way of coping with Carole’s death had been drowning himself in alcohol. That night, he was completely drunk when he showed up at your doorstep. When you opened the door, the hollow emptiness in his eyes was all the explanation you needed. She was gone. And Bradley didn’t know how to exist in a world where she wasn’t there.

You helped him into his car, grabbed the keys from his hand, and drove him back to his place. You knew Maverick would be frantic, but you were more worried about Bradley, about how much pain he was in.

But you never made it to Rooster’s house. A truck driver, exhausted from the road, drifted into your lane. You swerved, the car careening out of control. The crash happened in an instant, and everything went black. You don’t remember much, only waking up hours later with a deep wound on your stomach and cuts all over your body. But Bradley? He took the worst of it.

They said he wasn’t going to make it, that he was so broken inside he didn’t want to live anymore. They said he was giving up.

He opened his eyes again three days later.

It wasn’t your fault. Or his. Well, maybe he shouldn’t have driven to your house under the influence. That much, you both knew. But nobody could have predicted the truck. He wasn’t even behind the wheel when the crash happened. You were. If anyone should be blamed, it should be you.

But no matter how many times you tried to make Rooster understand that he wasn’t the one to blame, he never listened. He never would. He wore that guilt like armor, letting it define him, even when you both knew deep down it wasn’t fair. And you accepted it. Because you knew he never would.

[baited-beth]

If you’re able to spare any cash, this crowd funder has the potential to have a significant impact on the treatment of GC issues and free speech in UK universities. 

My name is Jo Phoenix. I am Professor of Criminology at the Open University.

I am bringing an employment tribunal claim to hold the OU to account for the public campaign of harassment that has made my working life unbearable, and I really need your support.

My hope is that this case will force universities to protect female academics from the vicious bullying perpetrated by those who disagree with our beliefs on sex and gender; bullying that is designed to silence us and our research.

My Story

When I accepted this role at the OU in 2016, I described it as a love match. I took a massive pay cut to work here, having previously held senior leadership roles including being Dean at Durham University. What's happening to me has broken my heart.

This position at the OU was my dream job because adult education is personally so important to me. When I was 15, I was raped by two men and then endured a rape trial in 1970s Texas. During this time, I ran away from home and saw more of life than a child should. It was adult education which gave me a way out and allowed me to thrive.

I've been researching sex, gender and justice for two decades and am known around the world for my work. But things started to go horribly wrong at the OU when I expressed views about the silencing of academic debate on trans issues, criticising Stonewall’s influence in universities. I also expressed views that male-bodied prisoners should not be in female prisons, and I set up the Open University Gender Critical Research Network.

As a result, I have been publicly vilified by hundreds of my colleagues in a targeted campaign against members of the Gender Critical Research Network; I have been called transphobic; I have twice been compared to a racist by managers; and I have been silenced and shunned within my department.

I have been made to feel like a pariah and have become very ill as a result.

These are just a few examples of what has happened:

A senior manager told me that I was “like the racist uncle at the Christmas dinner table.” When I started to cry, she suggested that if I couldn’t cope with it she could put me in touch with counselling services.

I was instructed not to speak about my research, which includes research on trans rights and the criminal justice system, in departmental meetings.

Over 360 of my colleagues signed a public letter condemning the Gender Critical Research Network and calling for the OU to remove all support and funding from the network, alleging that gender critical feminism is “fundamentally hostile to the rights of trans people”. This letter also made demonstrably false and extremely damaging accusations about what was said in a podcast that I participated in.

Another public statement by my colleagues published on the OU’s website expressed "dismay" at the establishment of the Gender Critical Research network, accusing members of the network of having made transphobic statements and of choosing the label “gender critical” as “a deliberate provocation to trans communities.”

The Equality, Diversity and Inclusion Representative for my Faculty has published numerous derogatory tweets about gender critical belief, including retweeting a tweet showing my name and photo with a reference to a "transphobic/TERF/GC campaign network".

I have been given suspiciously few opportunities at work given my seniority and experience.

The OU has shattered my dreams because it has failed to protect me, despite my repeated pleas for them to remove discriminatory and hate-filled statements that my colleagues have published on the OU’s websites.

I have been diagnosed with acute PTSD because of this treatment and have been too unwell to work for months.

My case and why I am crowdfunding

We desperately need to show that this type of treatment is unlawful harassment relating to protected gender critical beliefs.

These issues of sex and gender are so important, and we need to be able to talk about and research them without fear of being hounded out of our jobs. I have been contacted by other academics who would like to join the Gender Critical Research Network but who are now too frightened of being publicly smeared as a transphobe to join.

Above all, I am taking this case to protect academic freedom and freedom of expression.

I am crowdfunding so that I can pay for legal expenses to take this case to the Employment Tribunal.

[mjvnivsbrvtvs]

dont reblog obviously but just. musing on some things.

sometimes I’m like. hm. got some thoughts on catholicism bc it’s fundamentally very complicated and conflicting for me, but also kind of wild because you have the very fundamentalist conservative brand from the filipino side of my family, the side that’s also deeply invested in maintaining a violently transphobic level of gender essentialism. I wore jeans to mass one time and turned down one of those lace head coverings and my aunt called me a slur.

but also there’s the other half of my family, which isn’t catholic, but my dad briefly went to a catholic college where a jesuit priest talked about how you cant take the pope’s word on sex because he’s not fucking so what does he know about it.

my dad deliberately avoided converting when he married my mother so me and my sister would know that we didnt have to be catholic. he told us about how his co worker came out as trans, so we would have to update our christmas cards with her new name. his side of the family is a bunch of grass roots activists. he worked the night shift at a phone company which is where all the local lgbtq+ worked because it was safer.

my mom gave me stories about hell and how raising me and my sister was an obligation from god and god would always come before us. my dad told me that having kids didn’t mean you sacrificed anything, just that your priorities changed, and about how all the butch women he knew could fix your house better than anyone’s husband could.

you know. duality. I know that when I come out to my family, I’ll loose all ties to the filipino side of my family. it’s not a question, it’s a fact I’ve been told since I was like, 15, and got to see happen in real time when my cousin got outed as a lesbian and they disowned her. 

and while catholicism caused a lot of trauma for me, it’s also something that I can’t fully leave because the philippines is catholic in a very violent way. you dont convert an island to catholicism, you murder and pillage the culture until there’s nothing else left.

there’s also. hmmmm. I sought out unconventional catholics, i went to a theology teacher who was an italian catholic turned athiest, I hung out with a lot of jesuits, I spent a lot of time reading up on texts and writings from rabbis, anyone who could give me answers for how to reconcile this kind of conflict of self, conflict of culture, and conflict of history. it is, in a very odd way, home. I have a vague sense that it’ll at least exist there, even when I loose half of my family with deep cultural ties emphasizing family and ancestry and knowing where you’re from and what your legacy reflects. it’s kind of lonely, knowing that, but also really fucking funny that the religious institution that started me on this path is the same one they’ll claim to disown me in.

(if it wasn’t for seeing paintings that michelangelo did in my mom’s bible and my dad encouraging me to research literally anything that caught my attention as a child, I have no idea where I would have ended up. I wouldn’t have found machiavelli, and I definitely wouldn’t be alive typing this.)

and at the end of the day, when I couldnt openly ask for affirmation from anyone, I got it from a catholic priest who saw I cut my hair short, who remembered that I said I liked altar serving because I didn’t have to be a girl when I put on the robes, and every day I saw him, would smile and bring up the fact that we were both named after the same man.

anyway just. feeling a lot at 3am because I read something and now it’s like

I want to live so badly, and it’s a very sharp contrast to when I didn’t, but god, do I want to

[purplesurveys]

815

At what time of day do you normally feel the best? I love the evening the most. I get to have my coffee, it’s quieter around the house, and it also gets a little bit colder so it’s more fun to hang around by then. Do you normally have to hem pants? I’ve never had to do that before. If I need my pants fixed, I usually ask my lola to do it since she’s good at that kind of stuff. Name one reason why someone should not commit suicide. I can’t speak for other people, but I personally stay because I don’t want to leave Kimi behind and because I’ve seen countless mini-documentaries of parents who were left devastated by their kids taking their own lives. What would you do if you had no one to love and support you? That sounds so fucking bleak. I imagine bringing myself to therapy so I can learn how to deal with such a situation, and so that I at least have one person to talk to. If you didn't have love and support, would you feel life was worth living? No. But that’s why I imagine I’d be going to therapy, so my mind can be changed.

If you had no family nor friends nor money, would you feel life's worth living? These questions are so stressful to mull over and a tad bit triggering lmao, can I pass at this point? If you're unhappy, what would it take to make you fulfilled? Depends on what I need, which differs every time. Sometimes I’d wanna be alone, other times I’d want to be with other people, other times I’d need to drive and take longer routes than usual, or to binge YouTube videos, or a good nap...it’s always different. What was the last thing that upset your stomach? The meds I had to take for my UTI. Feeling poopy was one of its side effects, so even though it didn’t upset my stomach per se I did have to have several trips to the bathroom then. Do you have to go the pharmacy a lot? No, only when something’s wrong with me which doesn’t happen too often. Are you sunburned? I haven’t been sunburned since I was like 10. The tendency just suddenly stopped at some point. Do you wish someone loved you? I have a lot of people who already do, fortunately. Do you call yourself stupid often? Like every other hour lmao. What's a song you love? From Eden - Hozier. Do you miss anyone who was mean to you? Not to my knowledge. I’m glad they aren’t in my life today. Name someone you know who is a cancer survivor. One of my former Filipino teachers in high school. Are you friends with any cancer survivors? I don’t think that I am. Does God often answer your prayers? How was your day today (or yesterday, if it's morning)? It was average. Nothing out of the ordinary happened today but I did like the fact that my parents still left the living room aircon on for most of the day even though summer’s over and the weather’s already begun to be a little colder. Do you wish the sunrise and sunset lasted longer? Not really? I’m fine with the ones we’ve got lol. Would you want to relive your childhood again? Fuck no. It had some nostalgic bits, like the shows I used to watch or me playing outside, but it was far too traumatic for me to miss it as a whole. I’m happy being a grownup.

Were your college years the best years of your life? Not fully. My time in college only peaked by the second half, so it wasn’t all that great. Junior and senior year were very fun and eye-opening, though. Would you rather re-live high school or college? Ooh that’s quite a pickle...both periods had their highs. High school was a lot easier (academically), it was a time when I could fuck up and it was okay, and I found my first group of friends. College was a time of independence, a lot of growing up to do, and I also found my second group of friends. As miserable as I was during my freshman year, I ultimately have to go with college because I hated most of the people in my high school anyway and because I really loved the independence I gained in college, from being able to drive on my own and managing stuff on my own time to being free to choose my class schedule. And also, duh, I passed my dream school? I’d relive my years in UP in a heartbeat. What is the dumbest sports-team mascot you've heard of? Not really familiar with sports mascots to begin with. Are you a sports fan? Err, not really. I’m a pro wrestling fan, but it’s not 100% a sport. Where do you feel like you fit in the most? In my college and in my org. I’m sad that I only get four years with them – three when it comes to my org. Do you hate social classes? Yes. Do you think talent should have anything to do with social class? What? I have no clue what this question is insinuating but lmao of course not. I know some crazy talented people who wouldn’t be considered rich, and I know some bland-ass wealthy people who can’t do anything impressive at all. Name a country who's history you know nothing about. Australia. Name a religion you know nothing or very little about. Zoroastrianism. I only remember the founder. Don't you hate know-it-alls? I hate when they start getting conceited. What is your favorite store at the mall? I love visiting Fully Booked every chance I get. When was the last time you went to the mall? That would be when I had my eye checked last early March, because the clinic I visited was inside the mall. Aside from doing that, I also had late lunch at Marugame Udon which apparently would be the last time I’d have their food for a while, unbeknownst to me :( Do you have a bed or do you sleep on a mattress on the floor? I have a bed. When was the last time you went for a run? LOL never. Have you ever tried hard drugs? No. Which school subject did you hate the most? Back in high school I really hated the advanced math and science classes e.g. chemistry, physics, calculus, trig. In college, I found myself hating philosophy and economics the most. What was the last thing you wore from Aeropostale? I don’t think I ever wore anything from them. Which devotional do you read? I don’t read those. Do you appreciate classic literature? I appreciate and recognize their impact, but I don’t like reading them.

What is something you find strange? People who keep pushing for the All Lives Matter narrative. Cringe. Do you like your natural hair color? Sure. I’ve never actively complained about it, that’s for sure. Would you rather get a pixie cut or get dreadlocks? Pixie cut, because I’m pretty sure getting dreadlocks as a Filipino is a form of cultural appropriation? Would you rather dye your hair or get a perm? Dye it.

Do you keep Christmas lights up year-round? No, we don’t. Have you ever started a new trend? Just me? Lmao no. Do you have any artwork of yours from high school? I definitely don’t. Whenever a teacher would give our artworks back, I crumpled it up as soon as I got it and would throw it away. I just simply rejected all of my attempts to be creative lol. What did you win a scholarship for? I’ve never gotten one. But my university did start implementing free tuition for all undergrads starting in 2017 when I was a sophomore, so it’s kinda like the same thing. Did your college meet your expectations? Yes, and more. UP taught me far more than classroom lessons as it opened my eyes to the more important societal issues happening outside of school. It made me recognize our farmers who never earn the income they deserve; the factory workers stuck in poor working conditions; the jeepney drivers whose work is never respected; the millions of working class Filipinos who simply deserve better;  and the government that is more corrupt than I thought. My college on the other hand taught me to be fearless and to never hesitate to search for, report, and defend the truth, and to disseminate just that to the masses. Bottomline is that words can’t even begin to describe how grateful I am to have studied there and I will always be very much in love with my school. What was the best thing about college? The best thing about mine, at least, was the throng of life lessons and eye-opening realizations it gave me. Each of them has been more valuable than any lesson I learned in the classroom. UP taught me that there were a thousand other issues far more important than problems I face in my own privileged bubble, but that I can help facilitate change if I wanted to. How old were you ten years ago? 12. Easily the worst age I’ve been in. What's the best piece of advice you can give someone ten years younger? Stay. It’ll get better. Not instantly, but it does get better. Do you feel like you are old enough and experienced enough to give advice? I think anyone’s fit to give advice no matter how old they are. Even kids can be quite insightful. The differences just lie on the topics people give advice on. How old were you when you started to feel mature and experienced? 17, after I had a series of shitty stuff happen to me at one point in 2015. When I got past those, I could tell I wasn’t the same person that I was, like, two months back. Were your 20's hell? I’m only in my second year lmao, can you get back to me in eight years? What type of bug do you see the most often in your home? We don’t get a lot of bugs at home, fortunately. We have tons of ants though. Do you put off things until the last minute? If I’m not passionate about the task, yes. Do you have the air conditioning on right now? Nope, just the fan. Is your mom the same size as you? She’s slim but she’s still ever so slightly a bit larger. We can technically share clothes but some of them would still look loose on me.

Does camping appeal to you? I have moods where it does and moods where it doesn’t lol. What color is your sleeping bag? I don’t have one. How often do you pray? Do you surrender to Christ daily? When was the last time you went to church? Do you know any Christians who aren't judgmental? Only a handful, and it’s usually people in my age group. Most of the others suck, and I can say this because I’ve had coooooooountless personal experiences with rude, hypocritical, sexist, homophobic, and transphobic Christians and Catholics. Do you believe there are any good people in the world? Of course. What's one thing you are scared of? Flying cockroaches.

[doomednarrative]

2018: A (Personal) Year in Review

I put off writing in general so much, but I’ve put off this particular post long enough. 

And no, this isn’t about the general world or the country. It’s about my personal life, and it’s mainly a vent/personal rambling post, so I’ll put under a read more. If you don’t care to read it, that’s totally fine. 

But anyways. Here we go: 

2018 was...a fuckin ride, to put it in simplest terms. 

For those who are new and unaware, lemme briefly bring you up to speed about the end of 2017 for me, cause it’s important to the context of this entire thing:

December 17th of 2017, when I was on my third day home for Christmas break from college, I packed a backpack, and I left my dad and stepmom’s house for good. 

Their house had been abusive for years, and my mental health was in the absolute tank in college. I was feeling casually suicidal and had a full on breakdown about having to come home for winter break. After a fight I got into that night with my stepmom after she found me texting some friends on Discord (which I wasn’t supposed to have, even tho I was almost 19 and an adult at the time,) she got Pissed, and so did I. I had finally had a group of friends who supported me and helped me out so much, and I didn’t want to loose them. And I couldn’t stand the abuse, the treatment of me like I was a child with no privacy or personal autonomy, the constant pushing for me to date my one long time friend and to be straight, or my parent’s inability to accept me as their son and not their daughter any longer. 

I was given a choice, and told if I decided to leave, I wasn’t welcome back. A few months before, my best friend had said that their parents had a safe space for me to go if I ever needed it. They had been aware of how bad some things had been with my parents and feared for the worst, so they offered me a home if it came down to that. And that night, it came down to that choice. 

I packed one backpack of stuff I was allowed to bring (solely because it was stuff I bought) and I walked to my friends mom’s house, and by the next morning, I was at her dad’s house, safe and sound. 

2018 became the year of learning how to be an adult in a house that treated me as one, and in a house that didn’t put my personal safety and mental health in danger. 

2018 was...well, it was simultaneously the worst and best year of my life. 

Early on, I could tell my parents weren’t going to let my off easy for leaving. My mom wasn’t a problem, she had been out of my life for almost two years at that point, and hadn’t attempted to make contact with me for a long time. 

But my dad and my stepmom? Oh, they were determined to make my life as bas as they could while not being physically around me. 

First thing they did? They tried to take all of my possessions from my dorm at college without my knowledge, because they thought that They owned that stuff. I only found this out because I called the college to formally drop out and ask when I could pick up my stuff, and they informed me my parents were already planning on picking up my stuff for me. 

Me and my now adoptive parents ended up making an impromptu trip, four hours up and four hours back, that night to my college campus to make sure that I could get my possessions before they could. And we were successful.

Next thing my dad did to screw me over after moving out? 

That bastard stole about 700$ from a joint bank account I had with him to use for college. That was money I earned from about 7 months of work at my summer food truck job. And he took it because he legally could since it was a joint account, and didn’t tell me. i found out when I went into the bank to withdraw that money and open a separate account. 

So I was starting off the year with already some setbacks. 

Thankfully, I Was able to replace my birth certificate and social security card relatively easily, so that was in my favor at least. 

Then, come my birthday on January 26 last year, I got a letter. Two letters to be specific. One from my stepmom, and one from my dad. 

Both were full of manipulation and guilt tripping language and just. Gaslighting and more emotional abuse. They had somehow gotten my address from when I had set up my separate bank account and changed my information in the bank system.  And they decided to send me abusive shit as a birthday present. 

I’m not gonna lie, it hurt a lot. 

They continued to try to do stuff like that. They called me multiple times from different numbers, they called police on my adoptive family to say that I was crazy and that my parents were like. concerned for my safety because i had blocked their phone numbers after the first two phone calls. They texted me from different numbers, just. A lot of different bullshit. 

February was the first time I saw my dad since leaving. I had gone to a screening of Love Simon, as it was really important to me, and somehow thru some stalkery methods, he knew i was there and he confronted me in the theater lobby after the film. (When I asked how he found me there, his answer was ‘I have my ways.’ I never posted about this encounter when it originally happened.)

He proceeded to be transphobic to me in public, demeaning me and humiliating me in front of everyone in the theater, told me I was the reason my siblings were now in therapy (which is a lie, my brother was already in therapy for anxiety long before I left), calling me crazy, telling my adoptive mother that I “needed help” and that “she’ll outstay her welcome.” He said a lot of awful things, and eventually I left the theatre in tears after screaming at him that I was his son and that this shit was why I left in the first place, and that he should go fuck himself.

Thankfully, I didn’t see him for months afterword, not til october, right before I left my retail job that he and my stepmom found out I worked at. I saw my stepmom three times at that job, once with my siblings (which is the only time I’ve seen them since leaving and that was. Very hard to deal with and a very emotional time), and twice without my siblings. The times she came without them, she was an absolute fucking asshole to me, still spewing her abusive rhetoric about how I was in the wrong for leaving, and how my father did nothing wrong when he saw me in February. 

She and my father only left me alone after I told them that I would not get into an argument while I was on the clock, and that if they didn’t leave I’d call the store security guard. 

After that, they haven’t done anything else. Yet. We’ll see what 2019 holds. 

But, aside from the bullshit with my parents, 2018 had its other ups and downs. More ups than downs, but it still had it’s rough moments. 

I got a job in early May as a sales associate/cashier/fitting room attendant for a well known Coat Factory chain store. 

That job was pure fuckin hell, and I’m glad I don’t work there anymore. The last week that I was supposed to work there before leaving for my new job, I got pulled into the side office by the manager on duty (she wasn’t an actual manager, she just had closing priviledges) and she Screamed at me about how a customer complained about me, she hated me, my coworkers all hated me, all three of my managers hated me, and how she was tired of my attitude and how she couldn’t wait til I was fuckin gone. The whole issue that night had started because of her and how she couldn’t properly communicate to me where she wanted me to be that night and what duties she wanted me handling. She took out her frusteration at her own mistakes on me, and I had had enough. I stood my ground with her and didn’t let her walk all over me, but I went home that night, bawled for about two hours because being yelled at is a trigger for me, and she had been all in my personal space like she was going to hit me, and then I emailed my general manager the next day and told her she could replace me for my last two shifts and I wouldn’t be coming in for them. 

I haven’t stepped foot in that goddamned store since I left that night. 

I have a different job now. I work as an overnight personal care assistant at a nursing home, but it’s a higher end one, and it’s not bad. It can be stressful and super draining at times, but enviornmentally its a better job than the retail one ever was, so it’s good. 

My mental health has been a wild ride as well. I won’t get into the full details here, but let just say that uh. I’m 99% sure that I’m both ADHD and autistic, and I’m thinking I have some form of ptsd as well from years of trauma shit. I’m not suicidal anymore, but I have bouts of depression and anxiety and sometimes anger that last for days to weeks at a time. It’s...rough, to say the least. And dysphoria doesn’t help any of that. 

But I’m alive and fighting, and that’s the important part. 

Not everything this year has been bad tho. There’s been a fair amount of good too, and I’m greatful for it. 

December 23rd I celebrated my first year aniversary with @curious-corvids, and i couldn’t be happier about that. He’s been there thru this Entire ride, and he’s been such a positive force in my life, and I hope to keep him around for years to come. 

Similarly, March 18th this year will be my one year aniversary with @sinclair-solutions, and that I’m immensely happy about as well. They’re such a wonderful person and just. i’m very lucky to have them, I really am. they’ve also been here thru everything, and I could never thank then enough for that. 

I made some friends in the past few months that I can’t imagine what my days would be like without them in it. Kathy, Jay, Fi, and Evan are such great people, and I’m lucky to have them around. 

I got the chance to meet Ren, Lu and Erin in person for the first time at DragonCon, and went to both my first comic convention and my first out of state trip alone with them, and it was honestly the best five days of my life. I can’t wait to do that again with them this year. 

I’ve been steadily improving at art this year and took commissions for the first time, and that’s been a very fun thing to do. 

I’m actually able to like. Afford to buy things for myself and spend my money without interferance, and thats such a change from how my parents used to control my finances. 

Overall 2018 was just..a wild ride. 

2019 is sure to bring better things. With luck this month, I should be starting the process of legally changing my name, and that will be a very freeing thing to do. 

I turn 20 on January 26th, and just. 

I didn’t think I’d actually make it to 20. That’s a personal milestone for me, to have made it this far. 

Whatever this new year brings tho, here’s to hoping it goes better than 2018. 

Here’s to hoping I’m better this year than I was last year. 

[automatismoateo]

MIL gave my infant a religious book for Xmas. Now there is a feud and I dont know what to do. via /r/atheism

Submitted January 01, 2020 at 05:49PM by oh_rully (Via reddit https://ift.tt/2QFkzC2) MIL gave my infant a religious book for Xmas. Now there is a feud and I dont know what to do.

TL;DR MIL gave my 8 month old a bible stories book for xmas knowing I am an atheist and knowing this would not be ok with me. SO is a closeted atheist because MIL comes from a bigoted fire and brimstone church. He supports this decision fully but wants as little drama as possible. I texted her a couple days later saying thank you but we are choosing to allow him to make up his own mind what he believes in and that I mean no disrespect because I know her faith is important to her. She deletes me off of Facebook and wont respond to me. Shows up at our house and sends a series of pleading, emotionally abusive texts saying she is disappointed in us. Now we don't know where we stand or where to go from here. Could I have handled it differently? How to we deal with this kind of behaviour going forward?

Me (30f) and my SO (33m) are not married but have been together for almost 13 years. His mother is a very conservative Christian woman who is very emotionally needy herself but can be very vindictive and cold to others. Her church is very homophobic, transphobic etc which is actually rare in my country where the churches are usually more accepting in this day and age. My family is very liberal and somewhat free spirited and atheist. I have some Christian family members in my immediate family but they dont wear it on their sleeve and do not try to push it on others or judge others for not following the rules of their faith.

This has never been the case with my MIL. She knows that I am not religious but is always making small comments about how I am living my life wrong etc. I just brushed it off because she is just one of those church ladies and i do not want to spend my emotional energy trying to dodge that. I just let it roll off of me.

Fast forward to now and we have a son who is under a year old and it is his first Christmas. I had mentioned I wanted to have a conversation with MIL about the religion thing in relation to our son but my SO is afraid after years of emotional blackmail about it. He is an atheist but doesnt feel he could ever tell her which is fair enough. But when it comes to our son we made a joint decision to not push any faith or non belief on him at all. We would simply let him decide for himself when he is older what he believes. We want to avoid exposing him to any religious stuff in general until he is old enough to think critically about it and can learn about different kinds of faith instead of just Christianity.

My MIL and I are facebook friends. I post and share atheist posts on facebook so she is well aware of what my beliefs are as well as my family's. Nothing I share is offensive or pointed at her, it is just a community I am involved in and have been for some time. She posts conservative posts about abortion is murder, etc. Whatever, we have a difference of opinion ideologically but so do a lot of me and my friends and it isnt a huge deal. She has shared these posts alongside mine for a few years now and it has never been an issue.

So Christmas morning she gives our son some lovely gift that were very appreciated and we sincerely thanked her. But saved for last is a bible stories book for babies that she opens with a pointed look and proceeds to open and flip through for my son, pointing out Jesus etc. I was seething. I didnt say anything because I honestly felt like crying or raging or both so I just sat there in silence. I felt disrespected and like she was going behind my back to try to push hef beliefs on my son.

We let Christmas pass and two days later I decide we have to say something. SO refuses to do it himself so I am forced to do it which I am not happy about. But he is on board and agrees to back me up when she calls or shows up about everything because he believes her church is toxic and hateful and doesnt want her beliefs rubbing off on our son either.

I send her a very polite text thanking her for the gifts but say that we are choosing to raise our son in a nonreligious household and are going to let him make up his mind when he is older. She doesnt answer me. Texted SO "we need to talk" but doesnt call him herself. She is wanting him to call for more emotional blackmail and to get him to back down. He doesnt call immediately because he is busy with some home renos.

She then deletes me off of facebook two days later and still does not reply to my text. We dont hear from her for days. SO is very mad at this point because he read the text I sent and felt it was very respectful and polite but to the point. Yesterday she just shows up at our house while SO is doing some work on the house and I am sterilizing bottles. Our son is at my moms house for an hour so we can get a few things done. She comes to drop something random off, clearly just an excuse to come by. She doesnt bring anything up. She acts like nothing happened and for a moment I'm hopeful that maybe we can all just move on quietly from it. But then she whispers to my SO on the way out that she wants to speak to him later.

We are out for NYE last night in the city, leaving baby with my mother. She texts him saying she is so disappointed that we are nonbelievers and that she is praying we will finally see the TRUTH. SO replies and says he really doesnt think it should be an issue to let our son figure out the world for himself. She reiterates how devastated she is and how sad she is that we are doing this.

Now I am faced with another family event today and am just dreading it. I just want to make my own parenting decisions with SO and it feels like whatever we decide is up for a panel discussion. We have decided to be firm in this and not to back down but every other family member is just wishing we hadn't made an issue of it.

Am I justified in feeling wronged by this and being firm? Could I have handled it better? How do we move forward?

[samtheflamingomain]

family’s not forever

So I've written a shitload about my parents and sister and their involvement in my being kicked out. Today I want to talk about how my extended family reacted, which I don't think I've discussed.

So when I was first kicked out, I lived with my best friend Connor for a few days. On night one I realized I should call my grandparents and see if they'd give me a place to stay.

My mom's parents are extremely transphobic and therefore I hadn't seen them in years. My mom’s mom was always nice to me and warm, but she’s got health problems, lives in the middle of nowhere in Northern Ontario, and still lives with her awful, racist, homophobic husband. Also, when my mom was a kid and found her dad cheating on her mom and told her so, the same thing happened: her mom denied it. Being only 9, she couldn’t leave. Anyway, point being, I doubt she would’ve had much to offer.

My sister is a selfish person with a very low IQ, and had no capacity to deal with me. She lives in poverty up north of Toronto and I couldn’t stand the thought of living with her.

So my next thought was my dad's parents. His mother and step-father, actually.

It was an interesting phone call to say the least. Kathy picked up and told me to go home, that she didn't think I had any reason to be on my own, that I was blowing things out of proportion. When I told her that my own damn mother told me I was a psychotic liar and to get out of her house, Kathy didn't believe me. I will not attend her funeral. I do not care about her any more. She used to be one of my favourite grandparents, but that night, I saw that she was no better than my cheating father, about whom she specifically said, "would it really be that bad if he did do it?".

I contacted uncle Mikey and aunt Shelley, whom both told me they "didn't want to get involved" and that Mikey felt "I'm an adult and should get my shit together". I will never forgive them. They're lucky I haven't called Child Services on them because I know Mikey is the same as my dad. Both horrible people with a proclivity towards abusing their children. But because his abuse is likely the same as mine was (non-physical) there's not much I could do for my poor cousins Hannah (12) and Danielle (9). Of all the things I've lost, I somehow feel the worst about them. We were never particularly close but I saw the shift from "happy children" to "distressed pre-teens" and I saw it because the same thing happened to me.

A few weeks later I called my dad's parents again and my step-grandad Royal picked up. We've had our disagreements, but he was one of the very few family members I had left. I gave him my (old) phone number and told him I wanted to see him. Unfortunately, within a few weeks, I had to change my number, and I've been too much of a coward to call again.

But I've been deeply considering sending a letter or leaving a voicemail. He's halfway toward dementia, but he was lucid enough to realize the situation I was in when I called him back in March. He's literally the only extended family that didn't gaslight the fuck out of me when the shit hit the fan.

But he also can't do much, and though his relation to my family is just one by marriage, I still feel better being completely cut off from all of them.

I'd been dreading the holidays - I still am. But luckily I work all day Thanksgiving so I won't have to think about that. Christmas will probably suck, but to bring it back to my point, I'd rather be alone than have anything to do with anyone in that clusterfuck of a family.

Not sure what my point was here; I guess it was about me processing why I haven't tried contacting my granddad again. I think it's because, back in March, I will still in the middle of the crisis and would've given anything for a supportive family member, whereas now I'm at the point where I've mostly moved on, and I feel like getting involved in any way with anyone related to me would be a step back.

It's a bittersweet thing to know that the last time I talked to him will likely be the last. He's got maybe 3 or 4 years left in him, 1 or 2 of him being lucid at best. It's a shame because I would've been there for him and taken care of him, and I know his wife won't - she'll stick him in a nursing home when she gets sick of him. And I would've liked to be able to attend his funeral, but nobody has a way of contacting me to inform me.

But that's the way it has to be. Probably forever. But I'm starting to get used to it and create a new life for myself that doesn't require family.

It's a hard thing to do when every month is someone's birthday or a family day or a holiday and we're bombarded with cliches about family being forever and even when no one else is, your family will be there and all that. I've had to learn that those things simply aren't true.

I have friends and a boyfriend, so I'm not completely alone. But I'm definitely on my way to living as if they never existed. I don't spend all day agonizing over every detail of that 4-month period anymore.

I'm not there yet, but I definitely don't fear Christmas as much as I did in the summer, for example. I've become less afraid of being alone.

Stay Greater, Flamingos.

[iwanttopissonthewallsofyour-blog]

The “Beginning”

Really I should have started this blog a year ago. But here we go: time to catch up a little.

Around this time last year I had my first severe panic attack in 3+ years. At the time of this panic attack it was the summer of my third year of university and I was a research assistant to one of my professors for three months. My panic attacks years prior used to be most commonly triggered by large crowds, but when this one happened I was working in a lab all by myself for 7 hours a day 5 days a week. So it wasn't crowds. About a month leading up to the panic attack I was thinking a lot about gender. A lot about my gender specifically, and what I was even really sure of anymore. In the back of my head at that point I knew I was trans, but I just didn't want to admit it to myself. I knew how hard it would be if I decided to transition, and I knew how much shit I would have to go through, and my brain was trying to weigh out whether or not it was worth it. I had decided it was worth it. It was that realization that triggered my panic attack. I knew I had to go through with it. If I didn't I know I wouldn't be here today.

I am pretty used to dealing with panic attacks and recognizing when one is coming on, but part of my job entailed weighing out very small amounts of heavy metal salts (very dense, so for the amount I needed to weigh-a few milligrams-all that was need was a few grains), and my hands kept shaking so much that I couldn’t precisely weigh the amount I needed. I decided to take a step outside and get some fresh air. On my way out of the lab it suddenly hit me: cold sweats, trembling, hyperventilating, and severe anxiety. I ran outside to get some fresh air and couldn’t bring myself down from it. So I went to my prof’s office and asked if I could go home early as I was feeling sick. I drove down the block and immediately call my gp and scheduled an appointment. I asked to get referred to a psychologist, as my GP knew I’ve had issues with anxiety and panic attacks before. He told me that my university offers free mental health services to its students.

I proceeded to email Counselling and Psychological Services at my school to schedule an appointment. Luckily I got in very quickly as it was during the summer. I went into this session with the intent to be upfront with my psychologist as to what the problem was. I didn’t do it. I just told her I had a panic attack for the first time in years. The only person that knew I was trans at this point was a close friend of mine 8 hours away. So by the end of the session she pretty much told me I knew how to identify and handle panic attacks and that there was not much else she could do for me. She offered to see me again if I wanted, so I scheduled another. This time I opened up immediately with the fact that I think I knew what caused my panic attacks: I am transgender. I am still seeing this psychologist semi-monthly, and she is by far the best I have ever had.

That summer, I went to the city where my close friend mentioned above lives and I went shopping with a female friend. This was my first time buying women’s clothes; I couldn’t have been. I actually enjoyed shopping for clothes the first time in my life. After this I started wearing women’s clothes, though they looked mostly androgynous.

Throughout the fall semester of 2016 I gradually came out to close friends and got overwhelmingly positive responses.

Somewhere in there I also started wearing makeup. I first started wearing it mostly because I felt like I had to, or I wanted to cover any stubble that couldn't be taken care of by shaving. Now I wear it strictly because I want to, and while I still wear it because I want to cover facial hair, I don’t do it for others. I do it to make myself happy and comfortable, not out of a fear of what people will think of me.

I think around October, I came out to my mother. My mother is generally a open-minded and caring person, but she is a very Christian woman and has a very stern head when it comes to shifting her ideas. But I’m sure we’ll get into that more in the future. The response wasn't very positive, but it was still better than I expected I think. She was shocked and didn’t understand. My friends in high school and I started a GSA in our school that we called the Pride Alliance, as we wanted to include everyone. So my mom knew about this and was fine with it. So I think when I sat her down to tell her in our local coffee shop she thought I was going to come out as gay.

But I still had to come out to my dad. I’ve always had a rocky relationship with my dad. My parents split up when I was 7, and my mom had primary custody. For about 5 years we did split custody. I would go with my dad every second weekend. It came to a point where I didn't want to be bound by a court order. I wanted to go on my own accord. My dad wasn’t happy about this. We never shared many common interests so we always kinda did what he wanted, as he didn’t know what else to do other than what his father did with him. I believe that my dad always has and still does want a good relationship with me, he’s just never known how.

Somewhere around Christmas I came out to my father and step-mom. I first contacted my step-sister that is two years older than I am for her support if anything went wrong. Prior to this she did not know either. She had a very positive response and has been very supportive. My step-mom reacted well, although she talked a little too much to awkwardly fill the silence. She’s always tried to reach out to me more than my father and she’s a big reason my dad and I have a relationship at all. I like her, and she’s done my dad a lot of good. My dad didn’t say a word at the dinner table other than nod his head. He then proceeded to slam the rest of the wine in his glass and spoke up with, “No matter what happens, I’ll always love you, and you’ll always be my son.”. I know he meant well by this, and he was in shock as well, but it still really hurt.

Somewhere in between these events I was also seeing my GP and discussing hormone replacement therapy (HRT). I expressed my desire with him to start HRT, and he was a little hesitant But after I filled him in on everything and we talked about it he was very supportive. We reached the conclusion that my cholesterol and weight needed to go down before I could start. I agreed with this - and still do - as I have a family history of heart disease on both sides of my family, and MtF (male to female) HRT increases risk of heart disease. This is still on ongoing process. I was vegan for 2 years for health reasons, and during that period I was about 225lbs. and my cholesterol was half of what it was when I got blood work earlier in January. When I weighed in then I think I was almost 290lbs. and now I’m about 270-265, but it’s been a couple months since I’ve weighed myself. For reference, I am about 6ft. tall. 225 was my ideal weight, and is more or less where we aim to get along with my cholesterol when I was vegan. I haven't been vegan for almost 3 years, and I am currently vegetarian.

In early January I came out publicly on Facebook. Responses were more positive than I could have ever imagined. I still look back at that post sometimes when I need motivation or I’m feeling shitty. Even with the positive responses, I have lost a few people from my friends list in addition to me removing or unfollowing people for being transphobic.

Shortly after this I got my gender legally changed on all my ID’s.

In early May I legally changed my name.

I’m working in another lab on campus now since July assisting a masters student with her project until the end of August. Most everyone in the lab has been good about my name and pronouns, even people I knew from working there in January when I wasn’t public about my gender change and my name hadn’t been changed yet.

I start my 4th and final year of my degree (BSc. Environmental Science: Chemistry) in the Fall.

I really wish that I started this journal/blog earlier, as there is a lot I wished I had written down. I’m sure some of it will come up later anyways. It’s very overwhelming sometimes to think how far I still need to go. But I’ve done so much this past year, all while somehow passing these past two semesters. My wonderful, beautiful friends are a big part of me surviving this long honestly. I can’t be more grateful.

It’s gonna be a fucking ride, but it always gets better.