Re-programming Mode

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When trauma happens in my female life, a very masculine version of me may surface. Today I am using that gender identity. People call this “gender fluid” and it’s part of the rainbow community.

I named him (myself) Stephan many years ago. He doesn’t sniffle or cry all that often, he gets to work.

Stephan goes and walks the cat. He sits on the sunny porch and meditates with the cats in their catio tent. He cleans the entire house, then he goes for another walk. He stays busy without a whole lot of thought about recent events.

He doesn’t even run from the traumatic experiences in life. He growls at them like a lion. When he feels unsafe, he yells the profane, then kicks men (who act like boys) out of the house. If they whine about needing a restroom before they go, he tells them to go find a tree outside (toilet paper? Leaves 🍂).

All that written, I still have some internal hugging and some reflection to do with the little girl inside here too. Boy, did she ball herself to sleep last night. For obvious reasons, her name is just Steph.

Journaling here and coming back to this present reality (where I bare no penis).. I confess I made what felt like a huge mistake yesterday. Once the traumatic roller coaster started, I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t get off. I felt forced to endure the ride.

Man.. I definitely could have gotten off after the first ride though. That’s the tricky part. I’m a little horrified that I still have these people-pleasing traits. That part of me still exists. Try as I might to quit worrying about what others expect, some sort of pre-programming kicks in and I feel this compulsion to be ok with what isn’t ok.

After the traumatic event ends.. There is really no need beyond a good cry and a shake. I give it that time.. Then it’s time to get back up, shake off the s*** and move forward. Of course, that’s after showering, saging the house and letting myself literally shake for a while. Getting up to dance even.

Through therapy, I have learned it’s normal for humans to experience tremors. Letting my body shake like a leaf is healthy. Animals do it naturally, humans.. Often make themselves stop.

Crying too is an incredibly healthy activity. Wish I cried and laughed more often, to be honest. A friend calls it “ugly crying” and I laugh at a bit at his reflection of that image of life’s experiences. Mine are pretty ugly too.

Instead of ruminating, we start discussing Sheryl Crow and her economical use of two squares of toilet paper per sitting. Then tell our secrets about (accidentally?) peeing in the shower. Gross..? Maybe. Apparently Madonna does it daily.

Of course we disinfect after.. Especially in shared showers. Unless we’re in the ocean and there are jelly fish stings.. then it’s free season.

Anywho.. These are the memories of a Bird. I refuse to sit in the trauma for too long. Stephan doesn’t approve and neither does Stephanie. We’re all.. Learning about one another.

Learning who “we” truly are. What we want to contribute in this world. Then re-learning life’s lessons on repeat.. Perhaps until we have truly mastered ourselves in some yogi meditation pose that barely moves, yet vibrates.

I’m not “there” yet. What would life be like without new’ish adventures and possibilities, new’ish concepts? This season, I am re-learning how much I love nature and camping (among other things). Putting up old tents become a puzzle to be solved.

A current read was passed to me last night from someone I hold dear. It’s Tapping The Healer Within by Dr. Callahan.

Another Doctor? Bring it on, sir! I’ll keep you posted if I start to perform miracles (as the jacket suggests). There is always the Fight Song of trying.

Signed,

Steph(an)ie Bird