The constant question prevalent in most conversations, even with people you know, is “Who are you?”. There is a strong value and weight attached to the understanding of one’s self. The ability to recognize who you are as a person and express that to others in a comprehensible format is what causes people to either catch your eye or avoid being noticed. We are charmed by certain people even if they’re assholes a good part of the time, because they are sure of themselves and who they are, what they do, and what they want.
The second question presence is “How are you?”. It interests me that who a person is often comes before how they feel, because emotions are often more a part of our initial reactions and interpretations than anything else. Some of these emotions do stem from who we are; people of different backgrounds have different feelings about different things afterall. Still, the preference to seek a performance and display of self, before a communication of one’s actual state will continue to escape me. I am far more consumed by emotions and things adjacent to them than I am with the inherent self that belongs to an individual. To me every single person has a set value and worth that can never change no matter what anyone says.
I find both of these questions almost impossible to answer. I’m aware the lack of a clear vision of the self is a common experience with borderline personality disorder (something I’ve been diagnosed with), but ultimately I feel that perhaps the expected answers to both of these questions limit an accurate expression of the whole picture. I’m that unusual type of perfectionist that feels if I cannot do something perfectly, there is no purpose in trying. So most often I try not to convey anything in particular at all. Any attempt I made could easily fall apart if flimsily crafted, and if I’m going to be saying something my fear of possible misinterpretation tends to get in the way.
If both of these questions do act as the origin of our conversations, being unable to answer them — or not wanting to — almost certainly makes discussions and communicating with others more difficult. Often we learn general filler statements so we don’t come up empty handed. These can seem insincere. I dislike seeming insincere as my primary motivation in life is to be a nice person who people like because I am good and kind. Nothing more, nothing less. Insincerity or dishonesty don’t fit with those, and any time I catch myself being either of those things or at least coming across that way I am filled with an endless frustration because that is the last thing I want. I’m wary of my own habit to run myself to the wire with trying to please others over myself, and I’ve gotten better in the past year with disconnecting for my own sake and setting boundaries, but that doesn’t mean I communicate as well as I could. In some cases … as well as I should.
This is a wordy intro to what is supposed to be a memo and update related not only to my birthday but a difficult anniversary. But I feel it is a good preface and does its purpose in expressing my complicated understanding of my own thought process.
So it has been a year. A very big year. So much has happened with me internally, personally, and in the rest of the world. I am trying to not let it weigh me down, but it has only been one year, and the sting is still extraordinarily present and painful. Not to mention, everything else hasn’t been exactly smooth sailing either. Politically the United States is both a mess and terrifying. Especially as a trans and queer person, my concern about the safety of myself and many of the people I care about has grown even stronger than it was before. It is a lot to carry, and is even harder to hold without saying anything.
“What was it that happened a year ago?” several of you may ask. It is a very complicated story, but I have learned how to simplify it. A year ago was my 18th birthday. It was also the day I moved to the state of Washington. The move of course involved some very difficult aspects that had to be kept secret from my parents and relatives. You can fill in the blanks as to why. At the time I convinced myself that in the future I would be alright with that coinciding with my birthday, because the good parts would cancel it out. That is unfortunately untrue. While I can highly recommend leaving abusive and toxic environments as soon as possible, I cannot recommend scheduling alongside something meant or expected to be celebrated.
To answer the question of how I am, I would like to sincerely say I am completely alright. Alright is a good word in expressing my general mood because while I am often coping with difficult memories and feelings I do not understand and should not have to deal with, I am not unhappy in life. I live in a very nice place with very nice people and I’m doing completely decently. I’m in a much better state than I was the first months here, and have almost achieved some sort of stability internally where even extremely upsetting things are handled in a much more reasonable fashion. This is a seriously large improvement. I hesitate to say I am good or great because my emotions have a large and inconsistent range. Sometimes I may feel one way about something or someone and then that feeling will be the complete opposite way within five minutes. I am not necessarily easily persuaded, I just recognize the nuance of life and people and the complication of all things considered results in an uncertainty that is difficult to chase away. No one wants to give a wrong answer, even if there is no wrong answer. We are always convinced that the wrong choice or mistake will do unfixable damage … and again … I don’t like to move forward with things I fear will be imperfect.
Of course that complicated an answer isn’t suitable for casual everyday conversation. It’s more a courtesy question than a genuine inquiry. I prefer to not give inaccurate answers, which is why I have default phrases to fall back on. Insincerity is something I hate, so I do my best to never say I’m strongly one way or the other emotionally, unless that is accurate at the time.
It has been a difficult year emotionally, but I feel I can honestly say I’ve noticed improvement within myself. I’m doing far better than I ever have. Despite the worry that my nation is completely falling apart, and that that collapse will greatly damage marginalized people, I have it in me to keep going and working and trying to help others. It takes a lot of energy for all of us to get through each day. I’m managing to do so … and that is very good on its own. People trivialize how much just a single day can ask of a person. There is nothing to be ashamed of if it is not easy, or if you cannot manage it. I barely can, and somedays I don’t. There is nothing wrong or bad with me when that happens. The fact that I recognize that now is really important. It’s still hard for me to not be frustrated at myself for feeling upset, because I worry I come off as unkind or uncaring when I am.
Who am I is far more difficult to answer. I’ve gotten better at being able to list things I like or have done or can do, which is all well and good. But actually being able to say “I am this sort of person. This is who I am.” seems far more like a puzzle to me. I don’t really get to decide who I am, because who I may think I am could be completely different from how everyone else sees me, and who they think I am. Who I am to others ultimately affects my relationship with them far more than who I am to myself. I do not think all that highly of myself in the first place. Years of being told you are not much is hard to undo. Regardless I work to not let those feelings of self-loathing overwhelm me because I know they are both damaging to me as well as untrue.
My gender has seen quite some change. Not only do I no longer go by my wallet name, but I’ve also stopped using the nickname I’d gotten so accustomed to … what many of you originally knew me as. I’ve certainly leaned into a more masculine appearance and presentation, but I remain and consider myself strictly nonbinary. I’m content in that. I was never able to pursue anything like the way I get to live every single day before. It was difficult. Now I am free to try new things whenever I want, which has been immeasurably good for me and my mental state. Realizing firsthand just how much the freedom of expression, presentation, and respect from a general public gender-wise can do for a person has made me more determined than ever to make sure everyone receives this opportunity. I’m not saying it’s always easy or always fun, but that general sense of “I can do this and it’ll be okay,” relieves a large stress many of us unconsciously carry.
Eating has never been easy, but I certainly do much more of it and am far more consistent than I have ever been before. My psoriasis is mostly if not all gone (it’s returned to being benign as I’ve stopped being as stressed). In general I feel much healthier and have more energy. Sleep is still an uphill battle, but after staying up until 10am yesterday I think I’m gladly welcoming a far more sane schedule. Leaving toxic environments does not automatically cure all mental illnesses. I’m still depressed, I still have social anxiety, I still have bpd. But I’m far more able to dedicate time to dealing with these things appropriately, and feel little to no secondhand stress from the environment around me and the reactions to that. I arrange things, I deal with problems, I go places, I take care of myself, and I genuinely have to figure out how to handle adult situations on the fly. A few years ago I couldn’t order for myself at Starbucks without nearly throwing up due to anxiety. It takes work, but it has paid off, and doing everything I do in a single day is an amazing accomplishment to me.
I wrote most of this last night, and now feel like I have run out of intelligent things to say. In completing my own prophecy my statement has tapered off into an unsure solution because I deeply only want to convey a message I can proudly wear. I joked with my partner, who is different from the partner I had a year ago (which is for the best), that I should write one of these memos every year on my birthday as a way to capture a brief oversight of my state after a year. I’ll collect them all towards the end and put them in a book and publish them. They said that people love to read that sort of thing, because small and genuine insights into others are often pleasantly captivating when they are not horrifying. I certainly hope my own meandering through words is far more the first than the latter.
The biggest change I feel in myself can be summed up in a few sentences. At 17 I thought I knew everything, and at 18 I felt I knew less than nothing. Now 19, I hope that I can recognize there are many things I do not know, but that that doesn’t make me a fool or mean that I know nothing. There is an in between to every black and white, and I do my best to ingratiate myself with it because I’ve had enough of a rollercoaster life to last me the rest of my years.
How am I? I’m alright. Who am I? I’m Vin; 19.
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