Re-programming Mode

Reading duration: 2 – 3 minutes

I remember how to do this. I re-call who I was, am and will be today. I hold my hand.

It’s ok to not be ok with who I was yesterday. Until.. I’ve reframed, with vocal approval, all of these stories.

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

I named masculine me, Stephan several years ago. He doesn’t sniffle or cry all that often. He is the grit in me who quietly does the background work of genuinely caring in surprisingly deep and profound ways.

Stephan goes and walks Max the cat. He sits on the sunny porch and meditates while his feline friends sit 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 turns and growls at them like a lion. When he feels unsafe, he smells rotten apples, yells the profane, then takes the trash out. If that trash whines about needing a restroom before it goes, he tells it to go find a tree outside to leak on (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.. coming back to this present reality (where I bare no penis) I confess I made what felt like a huge mistake yesterday. Once the 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 that part of me still exists. Try as I might to quit worrying about what others expect, some sort of pre-programming drives me with a compulsion to be ok with “him” when he wants isn’t ok with me.

After the 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, shower off the memories and move forward. Of course, that’s before saging the house and letting myself literally tremble for a while. Getting up to dance helps too.

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 probably pretty ugly too.

Instead of ruminating, we started discussing Sheryl Crow and her economical use of two squares of toilet paper per sitting. Then tell our secrets about needing to pee 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 Steph(anie). We’re all learning even when we forget to grow old and up.

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

I’m not “there” yet. Sometimes I think, “awe! Yep, there’s the glow..” and then.. I turn off the light. It’s too much sometimes to be.. Light.

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 4-hour 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 everything. At least once.

Signed,

Steph(an)ie Bird