Dirty Boots

Pixabay

The sun is here and the trees are a bloom. Spring has entered, and is making its presence known on my small island. In a way, we have been sheltered in our rural community that is usually filled with tourism this time of year, as the Covid epidemic is and has been keeping people home and staying safe. Less tourists and locals alike are on the roads, in the cafes, and at the stores. Still, there is an obvious bustle of bicyclists and ferry traffic, though it does not seem to be overwhelming. I too am emerging from a difficult time, as I am cresting a coming out and concluding a transition that I have been immersed in for almost five years. I originally left work in 2016, though continued to pursue a small amount of volunteering at my local Library. As my journey and my transition progressed, however, I had to give up on volunteering. I have been in and out of episodes, and in a constant meds adjustment for most of 2017 through Spring of 2021. My psychiatrist has put me on a new medication that is now added to my original cocktail that I started post major episode, 2016, when I left work. I have also been on and off of an antipsychotic called perphenazine, that though originally worked miraculously and was much needed in spring of 2016 and incredibly helpful during the medium episodes that followed over these last several years; I am happy to be hopefully transitioned somewhat permanently off of said drug. Though perphenazine works a sort of miracle on the dopamine receptors, it also has very negative side effects, specifically concerning speech, and I have found that as I developed difficulty with speech, this ultimately caused difficulty with my thinking. This is because, as I form words with my mouth, this action instructs my mind what I am saying and thinking. As challenges arose with forming words and sounds correctly, it negatively effected my thought processes. Verbal dysarthria ultimately challenged my thinking. Drugs that treat psychosis acutely, share this negative side effect over time, which leads to belief that they should be used only temporarily. Sometimes as patients and doctors, we can only work with what medicine is offered in our current times. I hope that research will continue in the brain science field concerning the development of life-saving medications for the mentally ill.

I am grateful for science in regards to my mental health and recovery. I am grateful also for achieving sobriety, which aids not just my medications working properly, but also the behavioral aspect of my recovery. I have been working on eradicating alcohol from my life ever since I have been experiencing menopausal schizoaffective disorder, and have hit the breaking point for the life-transformation of being full-time retired. Stopping drinking in complete abstinence, has not been as easy as I thought it would be. Turns out, I was using alcohol to cope with the development of behavioral issues that resulted from living with mental illness. I have found, though I drank very little over these last five years, that I very much need a sponsor and daily recovery meetings to keep me on a sobriety track. Alcohol is therapeutic, albeit disabling in its own way. I have had to learn about my self, my life, and my spirituality, as I emotionally put to death the maiden inside of me. Turns out, I am an aging woman, and also a trans man. Being trans never worked its way into my life definition and experience, because I had learned to perpetuate the denial of my gentle personal voice, body, and identity, through the severe struggle of schizoaffective disorder, while using alcohol to keep myself on an repressive path in life. Turns out, while denying my illness, I developed an ability to deny my true self. I used alcohol in order to try and fit into a mold that I thought was needed, as a young woman. Now that I am forty-two, I see that listening to these gentle voices of both flesh and spirit are consequential for my success as an artist, friend, wife, daughter, aunt, writer, and bisexual transexual. It has been a long transition, that has resulted in many difficult medications adjustments, giving up on capable moments such as off-island trips or any sort of traveling, giving up on work, and learning to let it all go while sitting in the woods or on the beach, all the while developing a lot of patience for what my body and illness are trying to teach me. 

Solitude, sobriety, quietude, rest, and patience. These are words that have helped me monumentally on the self-aware journey of accepting “dirty boots”, while questing true sobriety of spirit and balanced sanity. My gift, my glass slippers, are very real. Boots, I must wear, however, if I am to admit a sense of normalcy and recovery. Through embracing my specialness, I also am finding the gift of ordinariness. I am proud to say that, as I embark on this new leg of life, that I finally made it to the store to purchase a pair of protective boots. I only pray that I will be blessed with more time in order to give them a little wear and to acquire some dirt.