I knew I was queer without having words when I was about 7. I was playing house or doctor or something like that with a cute little blonde girl that lived down the road from me. I was being the daddy, I had made muscles for myself out of clothes and was all burly looking, and sexy, or as much as my 7 year old self had any concept of this sort of thing. Her mother knocked on the door, and I leapt into the closet, innocent of irony.

I knew I was queer when I was 8 and I was being molested and stalked by the two boys next door. I couldn't set foot outside my house for two years without fear of being messed with in some way. I turned into a really angry and confused kid. Queer, though.

I knew I was queer when I felt like a little strategically shaved alien, thrust into human clothes and sent to school with beautiful little sociopaths. This totally helped the ptsd. Not.

I knew I was queer in the mid 80s, when there were no words like genderqueer, at least not in sweaty little Richmond, VA. I had difficulty with sex altogether, and knew I had to heal up more before sex was going to have much of a point for me. I knew I was a woman, but never felt womanly. I often described myself as a queer man living in a woman's body, and this is still true to some extent.

I knew damn well I was queer, when as a woman living in the 80's I saw my government seemingly actively try to kill folks that were not so different from me. I watched my loved ones suffer and die, helped my loved ones bear this suffering and dying, and I knew I was no rebel on the level to go out and transition at that point in my life. You might as well have asked me to walk on the surface of the moon, it seemed such a remote idea. I had made peace with the fact I had a woman's plumbing, but I needed more healing before I would be ready for relationships, let alone transitioning.

I grew and changed, and knew myself better and better as a queer person. About a year and a half ago I had my girlbits taken out, as they were about to get up and try to kill me. To be honest aside from projectile vomiting across my room afterward I never even felt really bad. I got in trouble constantly for trying to do things, which I would try to do because I felt so good it didn't occur to me that I shouldn't get up and do stuff for myself. I didn't want to take estrogen, though I did try it for about 3 months. At this point, I no longer take hormones.

I had worked this kind of comfortable rut into my psyche, I think, being a woman. And untethering from Estrogen Island has changed my internal landscape to some degree. I'm looking to talk to someone about taking hormones, or in any case work on my gender identity stuff. I'm not even sure where I'm going to end up with this. Maybe just more butch of center?

Anyway. So that's a part of my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Or words to that effect.

I think a lot of folk are posting stuff like this. I couldn't even read my last entry, it's been so long. Anyway, a lot's happened. I sum up:

Met Courtney in 2007. Love at first sight. I still get twitterpated around her.

Courtney moves to Oz. Am crushed. Try to move on after she goes back to Oz the second time. She moves back.... and then in. And it's awesome.

Get married, and about 6 months later she starts getting really sick. Like old testament Fury of God type shit. We lost sanity points, her gall bladder, her uterus and other assorted bits, some of my bits also, a few jobs and a few fair weather friends.

We moved halfway across the US to a very different culture, and also a different medical culture and set of experiences. I think in retrospect it was fortunate that we moved to Colorado because of course, a lot of other folk with medical issues moved for the medical marijuana. In the end it meant a concentration of experiences, and we got a huge break when we found her PA who had worked at a GI practice for a long time, and suggested a migraine disorder, triggered by caffeine.

So the mystery disease was her CVS, covering up a migraine disorder, or the migraine disorder was triggering off her cvs without us registering that that was a really indicative difference. We have cut out caffeine and chocolate along with gluten from her diet and in the past 3 months the only time she has been sick is when we know for a fact that she was given gluten. We have meds that have so far worked to stave off impending migraines, but one hasn't been impending in some time. Somehow, 6 - 7 years later, it seems we're getting to a place of good health for her. It's way too early to claim victory, but I feel so much lighter in my heart these days.

Holy fuck, it's been so long it was like being marooned on an island. We lived in this tight, miserable circle of ER/recovery/maintenance/always nauseous and constantly having to cancel on dates because C was ill or I was ill or we were both ill, or heartsick, or both. To be in that cycle for such a long time has changed me considerably. I feel like one of those acid washed jeans or something, faded and maybe a bit ragged but still perfectly, wholly jeans. Hole-y while whole-ly jeans.

So, anyway. Maybe I can write here. I certainly plan to. I hope to tell you about awesome adventures and really wild things. I hope to read about your adventures, too. Won't you join me? Won't you be my neighbor?
/mrrogers

So I'm here, checking out dreamwidth. Thus far, it's looking pretty comfy. Cross posting a bit from my lj account..

Well, as there seems to be a mass emigration to dreamwidth, I went ahead and created an account here. The same level of service you've come to expect from me for lo these many years will no doubt be carried on over at the dreamwidth account. But, I love many of you guys and it makes me sad to pack up and leave. On the other hand, I hate to be the last gal standing after the party is all over. So, here I am. Hoping to see some of the same smiling faces. :)