This dichotomy in American health care is well-known to patients with chronic illness.
Trying to reason with someone hell-bent on eradicating your existence is not only futile but also impossible.
When we moved out of our house, I wondered: How much of our presence is still there? How much do we haunt the place?
Transition needn’t be a straight line.
Each time I used my credit card, I rationalized my ballooning debt by imagining a future in which I was satisfied with my transition.
I’ve actually been masking long before the Covid pandemic.
Whenever I’ve found someone passed out in a bathroom as a bartender, it’s because they’ve well exceeded their personal limit with alcohol. I also can’t help but think it’s because there’s been too little of something else.
What I didn’t say was how much of home each of those packs brought with them.
When you love someone with dissociative identity disorder, you are not building one healthy relationship—you are building many.
Anyone who has lost and subsequently gained weight back can tell you that you will be treated differently in real, material ways. The difference is at once alluring and painful.