Forget Everything you Believe About Me

My Primrose Path is Littered with Thorns

I suppose I have had some amazing advantages throughout my transition. I was wildly accepted by nearly all my blood and extended family. My wife didn’t leave me. My employer accepted me. And being open about my journey lead me to new and exciting friendships.

Now that all the braggadocio is out of the way, wanna guess how much of that is true? I’ll tell you; almost none of it.

It’s time to be brutally honest about how my life has been less-than what could have been wrongfully extrapolated from my previous writings. Much of what goes awry in the lives of Trans folks has slowly crept up on me, and one can rest assured that much of what I deemed a positive in my life has switched to a null or an outright negative.

For those who have been paying attention, I have been detached from writing for many months now. In that time I have focused a lot of attention on maintaining my sobriety, and conversely I have come to realize that alcohol was often directly associated with my ability to produce. No doubt I have been in denial about this for quite some time, but as my alcoholism began to once again peak to unforgivable levels, it has became all too obvious. Such an addiction tied to ones creativity ought not to surprise anyone, considering how many acclaimed authors have struggled with addictions. But I was truly blindsided by this.