Month: February 2022

My day started at 7 a.m. this morning. I woke up in tremendous pain in my right foot. This is big deal because it is my left foot that I hurt and requires me to walk with a cane. I decided to start the day off by going to Walmart to grab some stuff from the pharmacy.

First up was pain relief. I bought myself an icy hot pad, a roll on pain reliever, and something to really help me a grabber to pick items up so I don’t have to bend over. These little things like this will go a long way offering me some relief. While at the pharmacy I got a whim to call my doctor to schedule a follow up appointment to my lab work from a while back. Turns out he had time to see me today. So I went in.

I was at Walmart from 9 a.m. to around 10 a.m. It took me the full hour to find all the items I needed plus waiting in line as I don’t use the self check out for obvious reasons. Once in my van I realized my appointment was only 2 hours away so I chose to drive over to Denny’s for breakfast while I killed time. I ate as much as my stomach would handle, taking the rest home for my cat Buddy. He was grateful I did but that’s for latter in the day.

My doctor appointment was around noon. It took a full hour before the doctor could see me. He had a big order. He was reviewing my labs from a few months ago to see if they were still relevant. He also wanted to examine my foot to determine if I was qualified for the disability placard I was asking him to sign off on. Two seconds into touching my foot the amount of pain his fingers caused was obvious he signed my papers. He also filled me in on other medical stuff I don’t need to share with the public right now. He wrote me more medications and I drove to the DMV to get my blue placard.

The DMV was pretty easy. Since I was there for a handicap tag there was a line just for that I was in it all by myself. I got right up to the counter. Turns out the doctor did it wrong so I had to drive back to his office to get a script to take back to the DMV to accompany my paperwork. Finally I got my blue placard and now can park in the handicap spots! Woo hoo! That alone saves me tremendous amounts of walking and offers me even more pain relief.

Finally I drove back to Walmart to pick up the new drugs my doctor prescribed me for my conditions. My doctor was overly cautious so wrote a hard script rather than calling it into Walmart I had to wait in line. Thankfully cane in hand the people around me were kind enough to let me sit in the chair and wait while my name was called. My insurance took care of the rest and those scripts turned out to cost me a whopping zero dollars!

By the time I got home it was already 4 p.m. I walked into the house to my poor cat screaming his head off. It’s been a very long time since I have left him all alone for that long of a time. Needless to say he was feeling his abandonment issues hard corp. So I was happy to snuggle with him until his heart was filled with comfort. Then I filled his belly with snacks and he quickly forgave me for staying gone as long as I had.

Unfortunately between my drive from the DMV back to the doctor back to the DMV I got a phone call from my employer informing me my temporary assignment ended early. Thus by the time I made it back to m apartment I was unemployed yet again. Fortunately as fate would have it waiting for me in my inbox when I arrived home was an offer for a paid writing gig via one of the freelance writing services I use. While not enough to pay my bills it was enough to lift my spirits.

Even though my foot is in intense pain, my medical condition is deteriorating and I lost my job, I remained in good spirits throughout the day. Oh by the way between all of that the news reporter from the Dallas Morning News called to fact check my story that she is doing on me that comes out tomorrow. All in all I had a pretty damn good day.

I have a friend who describes themselves as nomifluid. She defines her various aspects or breaks her persona down into different components each with its own name. At first I thought it was her going through what all trans people do, trying on different names until the right fit comes along. After many conversations she described something completely different. Then I realized I was more like her than I was willing to admit. 

I kept this to myself for ages out of fear I would be accused of having a mental health disorder known as Dissassociative Identity Disorder, or DID for short. I also don’t want to be accused of having schizophrenia. But I, too, felt that I had different layers to my identity that I was holding back. Unlike what my friend described where she feels like different names when she has a different part of her personality dominating, for example when she is in a dark mood she uses one name verses when she is in a happy mood. I can kinda see this but now wonder how deep does it go? Is this a natural phenomena more people experience than we currently know or is what her and I experience, while similar not exact, something else than what she is describing? Or is she unique in her experience and going through something new to human knowledge? I don’t know but I will examine my own experiences and compare them to her in the hopes others will come forward with their stories should they have them. 

Here is how I describe what I feel. Throughout the course of my life I have always struggled with locking down my identity. I have always known from day to day I can feel like a completely different person with entirely different interests. This has caused some anxiety as I often lose interest in something I am vehemently passionate about only to pick it back up later. I have noticed there are patterns to my different manifestations of my personality so I too gave them names. I don’t wear the names on the outside. But I know them quite well as distinct identities while not being distinct personalities inside me, if that makes sense.

Stephanie is my primary self. I identify as Stephanie at all times. She, her, me, that is who I am. I legally changed my name to Stephanie. The name fits me and it sounds right when people call me that. Anything else sounds off. I have given a name to my primary self as the one who holds us all together. I say us not as in DID whereas I have different people all vying for control of the body, that’s not what this is. Rather it’s more like different components of the whole each with it’s own name, each with its own distinct set of interests and defining attributes. 

There is Michelle, the tomboy. She is all that remains of my masculine side. Or rather she is the manifestation of my masculine interests. Michelle would be comfortable in jeans, a t shirt a baseball cap sitting on a couch drinking a bear eating pizza while watching a football game with her girlfriend. She does it enthusiastically as she wants to be noticed. Michelle the tomboy is also the one who has a strong interest in cars. When I am in tomboy mode as it were I don’t feel masculine enough to claim genderfluidity in myself. However I feel masculine-aligned enough that it makes me feel tomboy is acceptable. A girl who has strong interest in male-leaning activities. Not a male figure however. He is dead. THE RAT, that represented deadname he no longer exists. 

Next is Ashley. She is the cheerleader. She is superficial. Loves model and celebrity culture, drinks diet sodas, is probably pretty ditzy but might be faking it for show. Ashley is my most feminine aspect. When I am feeling super girly but also snobbish. Quite stuck up in fact. She is the one who loves to remind people of our past accomplishments and our connections to more famous people than us. It boosts her ego to be in the spotlight. She would also love to be a model, actor or photographer for a living if we could pull it together and give her reigns.

Next we have Victoria. She is the witchy one. Her interests are astrology, witchcraft, necromancy, tarot, the supernatural, conspiracy theories and cryptozoology. She believes in aliens, ghosts, fairies, mermaids, Atlantis, gods and goddesses. Victoria wants to use her spiritual prowess to accumulate super natural control over her surroundings to manipulate the forces of nature to bend to her will. She has a light and dark side to her interest in magic. She sees no difference between a benevolent spirit and a demonic force. She gives them equal representation. 

Wendy, the inner child. She is the little girl hiding just beneath the surface. She plays with Barbie dolls, sleeps with Care Bears, watches Rainbow Brite cartoons and loves to play pretend all day long. She was suppressed by the others for so long she sometimes fights her way to the forefront. She is the reason we buy so damn many toys. She also has a tomboy counterpart, Mandy, who fuels our interest in boys toys.

Rachel. She is the dominatrix. The raw sexuality. While bodily speaking we have zero libido, she is the one who would ravage a sexual partner should we get ourselves into that situation. She drives our sexual desires and interests. While most of her desires fall under the banner of curiosity there are a few things she has tried we could find comfort in should the need arise. She gets little control over the rest of us. She is mostly silent biding her time.

Tiffany the typical teenager. She is our shopaholic, dancing queen, lip gloss wearing sparkling in makeup and glitter. She loves going to the mall, eating out and watching fun movies at the theater. She is the most sociable of us all. She loves flirting with boys, girls and enbys even if she doesn’t expect anything to come of it. 

There is another darker aspect we don’t give a name to. I keep her under wraps. She sometimes lets us lose our temper. She is not evil incarnate rather she is our base desires and our dark side rolled up into a singular entity who could work with Victoria to unleash demons should the opportunity arise. 

None of these are real people. They are all pieces of my personality divided into distinct aspects when I am feeling more like one than another. The names are internal. I assigned them ages ago sometime in my youth before I had settled on my femme name Stephanie. 

How did I discover this? Well it started at an early age. My parents said I always liked talking to myself. I do but I am not talking to distinct personalities rather the different parts of the whole. I have always done this. 

When I was a teenager I started experimenting with the idea I might be schizophrenic or might have DID. After having spoken with psychiatrists, people who have those disorders and having read extensively up on them I don’t think it is either of those, although I scored high for schizophrenia during a recent mental health evaluation. That being said I don’t feel like multiple people rather a broken person who has assigned names to each piece but can unite the whole under a singular umbrella for expediency purposes, that being me Stephanie Bri.

 

 

 

 

Today is Imbolc. It is a very special day for Celtic pagans the world over. It is the first day of spring in the Wheel of the Year for those who follow the Wiccan tradition. It is the mid point between the Solstice and Equinox. The day life returns to the world following winters slumber.

Today is the first year I shall celebrate Imbolc as a Pagan. I want to start by writing a love letter to my Mother Goddess, Brigid.

She goes by many a name far too many for me to encapsulate here. To honor Brigid is to love her. She is a mother Goddess. She holds a special place in my heart.

I didn’t find Brigid. She found me. A few months ago I felt the pulling of her name on my heart. When I offered a prayer to her using a soul searching ritual I prepared she came to me and spoke to my heart. I was pleased to learn she had chosen me to be among her followers. She even gifted me the middle name I wear in her honor, Bri.

I first met Brigit on the Fall Equinox. I performed a ceremony tying my heart to hers on Mabon. It was a beautiful feeling when she entered my heart. That broken heart that had previously been occupied solely by a misogynist she has helped me break free from. Today I honor her with my words. I offer her my actions as a symbol of my loyalty and dedication to her service.

Brigid is a wonderful mother Goddess. She treats me like a child. She admonishes me when I stumble. She picks me up when I fall. She wipes away my tears when I have need. And she encourages me to find my own inner strength when I have need. She is demanding, yet patient. I have failed her many a time. She is quite forgiving. She has love for her children. I have a indescribable love for her. I love I never felt for any other spiritual being. We share a special bond.

Our relationship is not perfect. As a mother-child bond goes we have the same struggles any mother has trying to parent a teenager daughter in the throws of adolescence. At times I have succumbed to temptation to put her against my Father, whom she is not a fan. Those days often end in my heart broken as I often offend her in those moments with terrible piercing words that cause her pain. Yet as a loving mother, swift to protect your child, she scolds me where needed then accepts my heartfelt apologies when offered.

I give my heart to my mother. I wander this world in search of truth. She has offered me a truth I can accept. I give my life to her. Today is a special day for her as well. It is the start of Spring in the Celtic tradition. As a Mother Goddess she is a life-giving force. Nature welcomes her warm presence. She also looks after livestock and farm animals. In addition to my own heart, I also dedicated my cat, Buddy, to her on Mabon as well. He shares in my appreciation for his Spiritual Mother. She also offers me advice in regards to being a mother to my cat.

Today I honor her. I share my story how the two of us met so others may learn of her love. If you feel her calling to you fear not, she is a loving mother. Kind and patient but stern as needed. She will pick you up but only when you need her to. She goes out of her way to help you find your own inner strength. The power within. She has helped me find my own power. Here today I nod my head in respect for my Mother Goddess. I tendered her a mild offering in honor of this day.

Content Warning/Trigger Warning: Gender Dysphoria

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Dysphoria is a word I hear every single day in the trans community. It’s something we all face yet many of us hide from it in any way we can possibly muster. I myself often avoid discussing my own gender dysphoria. It’s a difficult topic to discuss without triggering others.

There are a lot of things that cause me dysphoria. For starters my hair. I have been working hard to grow my hair out because of the dysphoria I get from looking at my short haired pre-transition photos. Nothing brings me more pain than the stab in the chest I get from stumbling across a photo of deadname and that ugly short hair. I recently found some early transition photos of myself. To my shock I discovered I was cuter when my hair was shorter than it is now. I have toyed with the idea of cutting it shorter while giving my natural curls a boost. What stops me from doing this? Dysphoria! I fear if I cut my hair just the act of taking scissors to my long hairs will trigger terrible feelings within me. So instead of doing fun, cute things with my hair I keep it growing ever longer because I am paralyzed by dysphoria.

Another area I feel tremendous dysphoria is jeans. I loathe denim in all it’s incarnations. I know it is irrational. I know many women cis and trans gender all enjoy wearing denim. Heck my girlfriend rocks a solid pair of jeans and she is hot as hell. Yet for me it is a cause of discomfort. I cannot bring myself to wear denim in any form. I have carried this hatred of the fabric over into other walks of my life. I am so anti denim that I find myself angrily rejecting professional wrestlers I see wearing the stuff in the ring. The ironic thing is I only cringe at seeing the male wrestlers who wear denim. I actually love seeing female wrestlers sporting the fabric in all it’s varieties. Go figure once again dysphoria triggers me in yet another irrational way.

A cousin to my denim phobia is my aversion to wearing t-shirts. Again I know women wear t-shirts including men cut styles. It’s not a matter of gender expression rather a reminder of the person I had to pretend to be for so long. THE RAT, the closest I ever come to speaking deadname’s moniker, wore nothing but t-shirts, button down dress shirts and flannel. Oddly enough I have no dysphoria when it comes to flannel and there is one denim outfit I rock enthusiastically, my country girl style overall shorts. What can I saw the country girl in me sometimes wins out.

I won’t go into the details on all things that cause me discomfort via dysphoria or all those that trigger me. It goes without saying things like makeup, facial hair, genitals, breasts, face shape, butt, thighs, body shape, arm hair, body odor, finger nails, feet and so much more in fact cause me tremendous dysphoria. I have learned to hide some of it, suppress much of it and ignore the rest of it. In other words I don’t let it manifest visibly most of the time except in a few cases such as denim and my hair the two most triggering topics for me.

I don’t like to discuss dysphoria because I know how triggering it can be for other trans, nonbinary, genderfluid and gender nonconforming individuals. I go out of my way to avoid sharing tweets or others posts that might trigger another’s dysphoria. I sometimes fail at this but I do make an effort.

The moral of the story is just because a trans person doesn’t show visible signs of dysphoria related discomfort doesn’t mean she isn’t crying inside. We all need to remember to respect one another’s boundaries including the unseen or even unspoken ones we all face.

Call it a rant. Call it nitpicking but I detest it when I see Mario Kart abbreviated as MK on message boards. Oh I feel strongly enough about this I have ben banned from a number of websites for angrily pointing out to people that MK represents Mortal Kombat. The video game franchise that I once told people was my absolute favorite, before Minecraft. So how did I get into Mortal Kombat in the first place? How did it fade into obscurity in my world? What am I doing to revive my interest in the game? And why did I dislike the new remake/reboot film so much? I suppose I could do a full dedicated podcast episode to this theme in the near future. In the meantime I will walk the plank of nostalgia while I reminisce my entire past love affair with this ultra violent fighting game series.

It started with a song on the radio. I turned on 93.1 FM in central Kansas. It was the radio station that played the most current hottest music at the time. The song “Techno Syndrome” by the Immortals blasted over my radio speakers. It was my first exposure to the words “Mortal Kombat.” It wouldn’t take long before I got to experience the video game for itself. Nothing brings me more nostalgia than all the hours I sank into playing the first two iterations on my Sega Genesis. It was a fantastic time.

What initially drew me to the game wasn’t the violence to be perfectly honest. The arcade machine I played was at our local bar. It was in a small town called Miltonvale, Kansas. The machine had the blood and Fatalities turned off. You couldn’t even uppercut an opponent off the pit stage. The reason I was enamored by that first arcade game was actually the digital graphics.

Although primitive by todays standards those digital motion captured images of real martial artists in elaborate costumes played into my Hollywood sensibilities. As an aspiring filmmaker and movie buff I thought it was a beautiful technology. I was so drawn to the FMV sequences in the character bios in the games attract mode I would eventually go out of my way to buy a Sega CD so I could enjoy all those fabulous FMV games on the system, including a near arcade-perfect translation of the game.

Before all of that could take hold I have to talk about the day I got the first two games on Sega Genesis. It was Christmas 1994. My 12th birthday had barely passed a mere few months ago. My parents had gotten me a Sega Genesis 16-bit game console for my birthday along with two games, Toe Jam and Earl 2 Panic on Funkotron, and the pack in Sonic the Hedgehog 2. I had expected they would buy me at least one more game for Christmas. I had begged them if they got me one game to make it MKII. It was the most recent one out as MK3 was still good 6 months out. I remember that Christmas morning like it was yesterday. I opened up a box that had not one, not two but THREE Sega carts inside for my enjoyment. The first two were Mortal Kombat and Mortal Kombat II.

Up to this point I had already dropped dozens, nay hundreds of quarters into various MK and MKII machines over the span of about 2 years. I got a job raking leaves to earn extra quarters to drop into those machines. I was obsessed. I even remember renting MKII from the local video rental store/video arcade called The Hang Out numerous times. I suppose my parents figured buying me the game would save them tremendous amounts of money. They were half right lol.

I became ultra obsessed with Mortal Kombat. By the time I learned a live action feature film was on the horizon nothing was going to stop me from experiencing that movie. I won’t get into the debate on that films merits. I enjoyed it let’s move on. I also quickly discovered and began purchasing Mortal Kombat action figures. I even began kit-bashing my other non MK action figures INTO MK characters. I started by turning a Goomba figure from the 1993 Super Mario Bros. live action move into none other than Baraka. I kit bashed a vintage (read expensive and rare today) Sgt. Slaughter figure from the original 1980s G.I. Joe A Real American Hero toy into a Kung Lao. To say I was into Mortal Kombat would be an understatement.

I followed my love of the game franchise through the next few hardware generations. I lined up to play MK3, UMK3 and MK4 in arcades. I made friends with the only kid in town who had a Dreamcast just so I could get my hands on Mortal Kombat Gold. By the time I bought Sony Playstation and N64 game consoles I was buying Mortal Kombat Trilogy for both, MK4 also for both, Mythologies: Sub Zero on N64 and Mortal Kombat Special Forces on Playstation. The day I bought my Nintendo GameCube among the first games I bought was Mortal Kombat Deadly Alliance.

Things began to slow down for me following MK5. I skipped Deception due to childish gamer politics surrounding the GameCube and it’s lack of online features. I was dumb. As a result I began boycotting all things Playstation for the following few years thus missing out on Mortal Kombat Shaolin Monks and Armageddon until it showed up on Wii. By then I was already over it. The franchise had lost it’s grip on me. Mostly this was due to the fact I spent the better part of the previous decade digging deep into emulation just so I could finally get to play an arcade perfect version in my bedroom. I achieved this first via MAME then through a compilation for the GameCube titled Midway’s Arcade Treasures Volume 2. By this time I discovered I was more into the 2D games than the 3D ones. I decided MK4 and Deadly Alliance were the only 3D ones I cared about.

This would change once I overcame my hatred of all things Playstation the day I bought a PS3. Again I quickly purchased Mortal Kombat 2009 for PS3 followed immediately by grabbing a used cop of MK Trilogy for PS1 to play on my PS3 console. It was all I could do to contain myself. The fire fizzled out again mere hours after downloading the over priced Mortal Kombat X for PS4. Since then I have lost all interest in the franchise including the klassic games. At this point I have a mixture of odd nostalgia combined with some conflicted feelings from my past I dare not revisit.

To this day I don’t care for the games any more. I stopped watching the movie. I lost my toys long ago. I no longer collect the games or memorabilia like I once had done. Today marks a return to form for me. I finally broke down and allowed myself to enjoy something related to Mortal Kombat for the first time in more than two years. I can’t say that I have rekindled my old flame. What I can say is there is a spark there trying to restore my previous passion for this once beloved franchise. Only time will tell if I can bring myself to digging deeper into it more than just dusting of a few cloudy memories for this article. Either way nothing could have prepared me for the day I lost interest in my one favorite video game franchise of all time. Life is funny like that.

Unlike Spider-Man where I can skip out on a movie because of it’s mistreatment of the character I admire, I am categorically incapable of not watching every single Batman movie as it comes out. Fortunately for me I have the resolve not to pay to view them in a theater. I haven’t seen a Batman film on the big screen since he took on Superman in a pre-Justice League romp. So I sit here unsure if I should risk the COVID-19 crowds to sit in an auditorium to view The Batman during it’s theatrical run?

I sit here watching Batman Begins reminded once again why despite all the hype around the MCU I will always prefer DC comics. Batman will always be my absolute favorite Superhero. One of the reasons why I prefer Batman over Spider-Man or other MCU heroes is because The Dark Knight uses his brain rather than his brawn to win fights. Sure he punches his way through thugs but he is more known as the world’s greatest detective. As a fan of Agatha Christie it was a no brainer I would become attracted to a detective with a super cool car. Vroom vroom.

Batman Returns was the first film that featured the Caped Crusader I watched on the big screen. It too was a darker affair than his typical film. That darker tone of a vigilante unafraid to use violence to solve crimes is one of my favorite aspects of Batman as a character. Oh sure I enjoy my camp iteration as much as anyone else but I am especially drawn to the tone of his stories.

It’s easy for me to picture myself getting excited for The Batman. Even though I might have to hype myself up. AS much as he is my all time favorite hero, even I am burned out on all the Batman content we’ve had recently. Gotham was by far my favorite of the CW DC television adaptations. From the first moments of that show I knew I was going to be all in. Detective Comics is one of the few books I continue to get delivered to my mailbox month after month. There will likely never be a hero I enjoy more. So why am I burned out? Why am I not excited for this new film?

In a word, Joker. Specifically the amount of Joker’s we have had to endure in the last three decades. In 2009 it was easy for my friends and I to discuss who was the best Joker. At that time there were three to discuss. Then Jared Leto entered the mix. Then another and another. Pretty soon there were more actors who have portrayed the character than members of the JLA. Maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration but the point stands. For as many Joker’s we have had we have had twice as many Bruce Wayne/Batman’s. It’s too much for my fragile cluttered brain to keep track of completely.

Do I want to see The Batman? Absolutely! Just not right away. I need to give my brain a rest. It would be different if we weren’t getting new Batman content every other year it seams. Not to mention Gotham itself had a pretty decent run. It’s the same reason why despite my unwavering love of all things Star Wars I haven’t brought myself to viewing any of the new Disney+ shows. I just need a break. There’s too much to keep track of right now for me. Unfortunately I fear the longer I wait to get caught up the harder it will be when that time comes. For now I will await patiently for The Batman to make it’s way to one of the streaming services. Until then I will settle for the stories that turn up monthly in my mail box.