I’ve stumped my therapist and psychiatrist, they cannot seem to find a cause or a cure to stop this behavior. It’s embarrassing in public, but I cannot stop. When I go to see my psychiatrist, I cannot stand up and say, “hey this is not working for me, this is not helping,” it’s always me agreeing on everything they say just to get out of there. Even with my therapist I still keep most things to myself.

When they asked us in rehab that March of 2013 what our spirituality consisted of, I said that is was “Somewhere between yoga and fireflies.” I was getting very into yoga. I felt that the states of greater transcendence I reached while practicing to be closest to the spiritual as I, a die-hard atheist, could get. I felt that the grandeur of nature and expanse of the universe was a higher power, but I couldn’t get behind the idea that the universe would have anything to do with me or want to help me. I felt insignificant in the galaxy, a mote of dust, a sheep, as AA professed.

I painted the beginning of this painting while inpatient at Aurora Las Encinas during arts and craft time. It is my first abstract piece. I was surprised to discover how creative I felt there, digging among old board games like Monopoly for collage material and working in child tempuras instead of my usual oils. I kept the piece of overworked construction paper through my stay, oddly proud of my first artistic effort in a year of multiple psychiatric hospitalizations. When I got out of the psych ward, I mod podged it to a canvas and added a border and purple feathers. I call it Inpatient, Forgive.

I would like to welcome the newest member of our writing team, Jordan. In their first post with us, they talk about choosing whether or not to medically transition. Thanks for sharing with us, Jordan!
I’ve been anxious for as long as I can remember. As a child, social situations were nerve-wracking. As a teenager, I was already worried about getting into college, getting a job, and living independently. And as an adult, even with therapy and medication, anxiety continues to be a challenge that affects me daily.
So it’s no surprise that when I started to explore my gender identity, my anxiety kicked in full force.

TW: suicidal thoughts, abuse

All of this could’ve been prevented. All I needed was my mother to support me, build up my self esteem, get me help for my eating disorder, be someone I could talk to. Instead she tore down what little self esteem I had bit by bit, contributed to my eating disorder, and was generally untrustworthy, unpredictable, and indecipherable.