A friend was recently reflecting on her attempts at self-love, and mid-thought, sighed, rolled her eyes, and said, "Why is this shit so hard?" Good question: Why is self-love so hard? It definitely feels hard to me, too. But I can't wrap my mind around why. I love other people easily. I fall in friendship-love … Continue reading A Self-Love Story
I got moisturizer in my eye. Luteal phase nonsense. Robin Williams is still dead. It feels like there's a large stone resting on my sternum, making it hard to take a deep breath; I breathe when I cry. Gluten, maybe? I have to start over. Happy accidents. Exhaustion. I don't even know anymore. ...
Some things I've learned since my last post: Gender is a thing some people feel. I am not one of those people. I don't have an inner sense or "knowing" about my gender. Gender feels like something other people put on me, based on the circumstances. And I don't always mind this. I love women; … Continue reading Gendermender
On Words I feel bad about my sex. I really do. If you saw me, you probably wouldn’t guess it. Because words are tricky and malleable, I’ll clarify: I’m talking about the sex that was assigned to me as a baby. In January of 1983, a doctor eased me out of an incision in my … Continue reading I Feel Bad About My Sex
Yesterday was the first anniversary of “Beautiful in the Moonlight,” the Big Strong Yes episode where things got real. When I go back and listen to BSY #3, I can hear little glimmers of what the show—and its courageous hosts, and Chipperish as a whole—would eventually become. Yesterday was also the anniversary of my last … Continue reading The Click
A few weeks back. A huge setback. The trouble with triggers is that they're fucking everywhere. You can be sitting quietly, writing speech for fictional people, in a self-made protective bubble of recovery—feeling better, feeling better—when a trigger shakes the ground beneath you. A sound, a noise. A text, a phone call. A sensation in … Continue reading The Trouble With Triggers
I've thought for a long time about just writing here, without worrying about what, exactly, I'll say. Just opening up a new post and typing something, anything, without thinking it has to be an essay or a poem or a story or even be particularly interesting. Because writing is about stretching the writing muscles, isn't … Continue reading Good At Titles