Rebel, Rebel, you’re worth your Salt!

I’m sitting in a Wendy’s parking lot waiting for the restaurant to open so that I can speak to the manager.

Don’t get the wrong idea, this place is great. I’m not upset with anyone! I’ve come here to work with him on some paperwork so that I can begin working there! I’m really excited.

As I was driving here (Driving?? Me?? In Alaskan weather?? Nooooo), I was listening to David Bowie. One of the songs that came on was “Rebel Rebel”. I found that even though I’ve heard that song a zillion times, I related to it more than usual. The Rebel figure seemed to be doing more than just rebelling – they were being themselves, and Bowie’s character was attracted to them for it. Not everyone understood the Rebel, but what sticks out to me is that those that did loved them for it.

I also listened to it when I was getting ready for this journey, and I envisioned myself as the subject of a movie. “Rebel Rebel” played in the background as I got all my stuff together, and it had an 80s movie text overlay that read “Alaska, 2019”. Call me weird, but stuff like this in my brain makes me happy.

Another song that I relate to is “Salt” by Bad Suns. It speaks to me of confusion with identity and not feeling at home in one’s own skin. I understand that. It doesn’t lend the same movie opening feel or positive feeling/ending, but it’s something I think people can relate to. Empathy is one of the biggest tools to have, in my opinion, and writing songs that connect with people is a powerful thing.

I am grateful for friends who listen, something more powerful than a song. I spoke at length with my friend Wally this morning, and he listened. He didn’t claim to have the answers, he was just there for me. It was affirming and validating and was another reminder that I’m not alone in this.

Well, I just went into a Chevron to pick up cold caffeine while I wait and I saw people staring at my bolo tie. I don’t know if they thought I was strange, but I’m going to keep it on. Those who enjoy it will enjoy it.

Friends, the time is now for us to part. Thank you for reading!



I’m listening to my Spotify 2018 rewind playlist and I played a lot of these songs when my husband and I first started dating. “Superhero” by Kormac is on. I remember waking up to it after he ended our Skype call one night. It’s kinda weird hearing all of these songs that bring back so many memories from just last year and thinking about how so much has changed. I’m MARRIED now, something I thought would never happen to me, for one. I live in my ideal environment and in a place I’ve always dreamed of living. I am beyond lucky.

Even though dysphoria has been confusing and scary, I have been happy overall. I have many, many things to be thankful for – friends who get me, a husband who loves fiercely and is also my best friend, yogurt in the fridge, computer parts to play with. I love so many things here. Owl City is in my ears now, and he’s one of my biggest inspirations. Call me a sap, but these times are beautiful and made to be noticed and be grateful for.

I’m also thankful for this journey of self discovery, painful though it may it be at times. I’m learning, and that is important. That matters. I found a great article from the website The Body is not an Apology about self care when you’re in a bad dysphoric spot. I’ll share it at the end of the post!

If you’re in a learning period, I know it can look bleak from where you are. You may struggle with thoughts of hopelessness and worthlessness. I know these feelings all too well. There will be good times ahead, so don’t break yourself or beat yourself up. I won’t tell you to “keep your chin up”, or anything like that, because that is, pardon my French, bullshit. Instead, stay warm, tend to yourself, stay safe. I’m here if you want to talk.

Love, Meg

Here is the article:

Hello again!

The agender adventures continue. Hopefully I can a.) not wake my sleepy love who is next to me with the phone light and b.) come up with better post titles someday.

Today was pretty rad. I bought a bolo tie:

and made another (pictured up top with me wearing it) out of a disk drive (?) from an old PSP that my roommate said I could use.

I’m pretty proud of myself.

I’m still working on the dysphoria aspect, and I have found that my stomach only drops when I feel like I have to explain what’s going on to someone else.

Because I can’t tell why the dysphoria is happening or what it wants, for lack of a better word, it’s very difficult to explain.

(I know there are some of you fine readers that would say that I don’t owe an explanation to anyone, and I might take you up on that advice soon.)

Nonetheless, I want to be able to put words to what I’m feeling because I’m a writer. Putting language to my emotions and experiences gives me a sense of empowerment. And with this….

Words fail.

I feel increasingly powerless and sick to my stomach the more I try to explain what’s going on in my mind. All I can do is make metaphors, and even those are weak. But as I was laying here trying to sleep, I came to realize that if that’s a trigger, I don’t need to explain every detail. I felt euphoric in my button down and tie. I sent probably too many selfies to my friends. And they loved them. I think I also fear judgment too much. Semi-subconsciously, I don’t want people who are close to me thinking I’m trying to craft a new identity to put up a wall or to establish a defense mechanism. I’ve done that before, and that scares even me. So I’m approaching this with caution.

Most of the times I feel dysphoria, it is tied in with a rough patch in my mental health. Either I’m not taking my meds correctly, I’m not getting enough sleep, something major and negative has just occurred in my life, etc.. The only things I can think of are:

Coming out of a depressive spell and moving to Alaska several months ago. I don’t understand why either would trigger that or what I could be hiding from. I’m making friends. I’m getting a job. I’m getting settled in. I’m feeling better. Things are very positive. Why now? I have no idea.

If there turns out to be nothing that I’m hiding from, that leaves a possibility that it’s pushing me towards growth of some form. I’m not trying to reinvent myself, I feel like I’m molting. Same being, new feathers. Maybe this is what I’m supposed to grow into? Maybe this is the next step? I honestly hope so.

Love, Meg