Adirondack towns don’t love me back.
I’ve gone through a lot of moments of frustration, confusion, and loss for how to deal with the topics floating around in my head. They’re not easy to talk about. Often I’m left on the other end of a conversation feeling as alone as when it started. I’ve stopped trying to correct comments that subtly put down Queer people, or address responses that don’t understand where I’m coming from. I’ve ignored the people imposing their own experience on mine, the comments that assure me they completely understand.
Their intentions are good, and I get that. People are full of good intentions, but those intentions do not always translate to actions or behavior or language that seeks to understand.
It is exhausting to always explain it.
Back in the Adirondacks
I haven’t had time to process everything that’s happened this summer. My name is different and my hair is shorter, my body less used to hiking and my mind still breaking down a life-shaping two months.
I had a bear- encounter next to a cliff, preformed CPR, mentored teens through panic attacks, eating disorders, dysphoria, and sexual assault trauma. I drove a van pulling a trailer through five lanes of Seattle traffic, and piloted my red truck a total of 7,600 miles through 20 states and 11 National Parks. All while coming to grips with my own identity and being openly trans for the first time in my life.
» Continue Reading.