Writing and releasing this entry has taken far longer than I meant for it to. My first draft felt too shallow and at a superficial level. Once I decided to go deeper, it felt challenging to stir up the feelings, dynamics, and events of the past, and I often found myself struggling to bring forth the information of stuff that I buried long ago. But what I have given here feels like it was what needed to be shared at this time.
It has taken time to arrive at the place in life where I could finally accept myself for being transgender, and to accept a spiritual role that- if someone is realistic about what it truly entails- a person would not choose to accept unless chosen by something greater. My journey has involved the shedding of many layers to even arrive at the place of self-acceptance. Through that eventual self-acceptance, only then could the deeper layers of healing be revealed. To provide context of the power that has come from the interconnectedness of my life, it feels important to share where I’ve come from and what I’ve been in the process of healing.
Another part of why I share is to honor the phases and stages that I’ve been through, and that even in the midst of living through some of the “worst” versions of myself, I was learning and growing. In healing the imbalanced versions of myself and choosing to learn from my life experiences (though sometimes it wasn’t until long after the fact that I could look back and say, “oh… THAT’S what I was learning while I was trying to run or hide from any ounce of discomfort), I have grown in my abilities to share the work with others. In healing my pains and unhealthy patterns, I could mirror an aspect of the shaman: “The Wounded Healer”.
It is understood that the shaman is able to hold healing space for others because they themselves have healed wounds of their own. It is the experience of living through pain and woundedness that they are able to relate to those who are also in pain or wounded. It is the journey of healing oneself- through the relationship with Spirit and all its forms- that the shaman can then be able to facilitate healings on behalf of others. My life has been a healing journey.
When we are in a place of personal power, we are able to remain steadfast in challenging times. We have the opportunity to thrive and to feel an abundant connection with the Universe. When we are living in congruence with our True Self, we tap into this personal power. However, when there is a loss of power- due to the many forms of trauma or wounding that can occur throughout our lifespan- it creates space for misplaced energy to fill that void of power. When we are out of touch with our True Self, we can feel powerless.
Shamanic beliefs recognize that external thoughtforms, beliefs, attitudes, emotions, and intentions- all of which are simply a form of energy- can become intrusions in peoples’ energetic and physical bodies. Intrusions themselves are simply misplaced energy. Where there is a void or loss of power in a person’s energy body, space is created for these intrusions to fill that void. Loss of power can take place through a variety of traumas including emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual experiences. Loss of power can be inherited ancestrally, and is reflected in intergenerational trauma.
Like many, I have had a number of harmful experiences or life circumstances that have led to loss of personal power. Living the majority of my life afraid of my True Self caused me to live in a perpetual state of vulnerability, open to the influence of intrusive energy. Over time I managed this feeling of vulnerability mostly through numbing out- literally shutting off my sensory attunement- or by masking. Through the latter, I found myself creating an identity and sense of self based on acceptance from my external environment rather than allowing myself to shine brightly from the place of authenticity within myself.
I lacked a stable sense of self and was easily swayed by the opinions or values of other people. Whether it was friends, partners, family, or society at large, I molded myself to fit into my environment. Perhaps this was a skill that I learned out of necessity to feel loved and accepted. Maybe it was a safety response to make sure that I wouldn’t be harmed due to being “different”. Maybe it was a natural outcome of having a few best friends growing up that were in different social circles with completely different interests and different personalities. In that, it’s possible that I grew to put on the various masks that would allow me to slip into those relationships and mesh with the present situation.
I gave greater attention to external influences and pressures, as opposed to listening to my own internal cues, my intuition, and the signs and omens sent from Spirit. In giving the opinions of others greater value than my own internal compass, I gave away my power. In giving away my power, I trudged along a life-path that would lead me to where I was completely out of synch with my True Self. I progressively became a version that I had little to no authentic resonance with.
My story as a transgender person on a Shamanic path has within it a strong presence of learning to listen to my intuition, while trusting the signs and messages that come from The Universe. I often found myself starting to take a step or two into the realm of authenticity, but because I allowed my fears to be greater than trust, I would often revert back to whatever felt safe. Safe typically looked like the familiar. Even though the familiar was still uncomfortable due to incongruence, it still provided the sense of safety for those versions of myself.
Before, I mentioned that I spent a lot of time hiding from my truth. I had also spent a great deal of time grasping at any sense of meaning or purpose in life. So much of my life had been spent easily swayed by the opinions of others, trying to have their acceptance so that I could be connected, valued, and loved. This often led me to sacrifice my own needs, or sacrifice my own values and integrity. I often felt like a ship without a rudder, simply going in the direction that was in alignment with the interests/goals of others.
For example: in high school I decided to quit football so that I could focus on learning to play music, as the electric bass was my passion. But because all my friends were in some type of sport, I decided that I would get involved with track and field, despite for years having said, “I don’t want to run as my sport. I’ll run for a sport, but not as a sport”. Throughout high school I did track and field for 3 years. Through this, music- something that really helped me to feel alive- gradually fell by the wayside.
I use this specific example because I’m not inherently a sporty-person. I like to be physically active and enjoy exercise, but I have no interest in sports. Ironic, because much of my identity at one point in time would come to circle around sports. In fact, by the end of graduation from my undergraduate program I was working as a strength-and-conditioning coach at a sport-performance enhancement training facility after having just competed in track and field for the previous 3 years. Who had I become? How did I get there? It was a long road of “going with the flow”- but rather than following my own flow, I allowed myself to be influenced by the flow of others.
Another critical piece to share about myself for my early years was a deep, misdirected yearning for connection through a romantic partner. Even at the age of 7, I recall going to bed at night praying that I would one day marry whatever girl I had a crush on that week. This seeking for attachment even became an obsession at times and I would ruminate on the longing for partnership, and felt deeply the pains of loneliness. I’m not quite sure where this pattern came from, but it would be one that stayed with me for a majority of my life and would cause me harm over the years.
I share all this too because it gives context for a very influential part of my college years. These patterns would lead me to a complicated relationship that was influential in the progression of a number of decisions that would take me further out of congruence with the authentic version of myself, and create or reinforce those pieces of lost power that led to harmful tendencies.
During my freshman year, I began to reflect on what I truly wanted to pursue and what I wanted to invest my education in. My declared major was Psychology, with the intention to later go onto graduate studies for counseling. This in itself was not an intention built on a solid foundation. Rather, it was from wanting to become a marriage and family counselor so that I could help families stay together. The summer prior to my senior year of high school, my parents separated. The pain and disorientation from that were so significant that I decided I would focus my career path on helping families stay together so that they wouldn’t feel the pain that I went through.
After a few months in college, I had enough distance from the pains of being at home with the dynamics present there, that I began to have more space for personal reflection. I began to reflect on whether college was really for me, or if there was another avenue that would better suit me. I could sense how disconnected I felt from the realm of academia, and so I began to wonder if there was another direction I should take. Photography was a strong interest of mine at the time, so much so that I considered focusing further education or training in it.
I made a deal with myself: I would stay on the path of my current education to finish out my basics, which would coincide with the end of my sophomore year. It wasn’t often that I made decisions to follow my own path, and this intention alone was one of the first steps towards doing so. However, it was not long after making that deal with myself that I met a girl at college. She was an upperclassman and I didn’t think she was interested in me, so we had a number of months getting to know one another without the influence of the parts of myself that tried to turn friendship into partnership. Turns out, she was interested in me the whole time, and once that was on the table, we started dating. This relationship would take its toll on me.
Prior to this relationship, I had dated someone from my sophomore year of high school until my first couple months of college. The relationship ended with a lot of hurt in which I deeply regretted how things unfolded. To cope with the emotions of the breakup, a family member offered me alcohol. Prior to that, I had never drank alcohol and had previously decided for myself that due to family patterns, I wouldn’t drink because of my concern of predispositions to addiction/abuse. However, without guidance on how to be with my feelings, I was given an option that a lot of people find themselves pursuing: coping with alcohol use. Alcohol was another complicated relationship that I struggled with for years that really took root during my college years.
Focusing again on the relationship I had in college, it was one that initially helped those wounded parts of me to feel whole. I felt loved, appreciated, and valued. Beyond our relationship, we grew to be close with one another’s families, which helped soothe the pains of feeling disconnected from my family after the divorce. My girlfriend and I soon found ourselves daydreaming about marriage and the possibility of kids. For that version of me, I thought everything was perfect. I thought we were “each other’s person”. But as it often goes, one thing led to another and due to her own internal conflicts that arose while being in a committed relationship, she ended the relationship.
This left me feeling very confused, depressed, and heartbroken- especially because she wasn’t able to articulate her feelings or why she was ending things. It left me feeling like there was something wrong with me. That there must have been something I was at fault for that would lead her to end things. What made matters even more challenging was that during our relationship, I started to be involved with more activities that she was involved with.
I had joined the track and field team, of which she was a member. I added a Kinesiology minor due to my decision to pursue becoming a Sport-Psychologist, which in itself was influenced by my involvement with the areas of sports/fitness that she exposed me to. She was a Kinesiology major and we ended up being in a number of the same classes. Even when we weren’t in the same classes, we were often likely to run into each other in the school’s Kinesiology department. She and I were lifeguards at the college’s rec center together. I worked the front desk at the rec center where she would inevitably have to pass by me in order to get to the athletic training room at the facility. Our friend groups became deeply intertwined due to our involvement in sports, and so we would often be at the same parties together. Space was never an option.
At this time in my life, I had zero concept of what boundaries were- with others or even within myself. In conjunction with not having space from one another, there were still parts of us that wanted to stay connected to one another. She grappled with the internal parts of herself that wanted to be in a relationship with me, and the parts that struggled with that as a result of unprocessed wounds of her past. For me, I never wanted the relationship to end, so I was apt to “jump back in and try again” anytime the parts of her that missed me were more prominent than the parts that felt overwhelmed by commitment.
For nearly 2 ½ years, things between us would flip back and forth in an on-again/off-again dynamic. Sometimes that looked like directly trying to have a relationship again, other times it was from hooking up and I interpreted those times as “we’re back together”, but for her it was just sex. Over time, those parts of me that were so ready to love and to be loved began to numb and grow calloused each time I felt hurt from things ending or the misunderstandings of intentions between us.
I now take responsibility for my side of it all. I could have said, “enough is enough” and set boundaries and stood by them. There were plenty of times that I did set boundaries, but due to whatever imbalances present within myself, I didn’t hold those boundaries. That it itself was a massive way of giving away my power. For years after the relationship, any time I tried to date someone but felt closed off and guarded, I blamed her. Sure, she had her role to play in it all, but ultimately, that blame shifting is what kept me stuck. I had my own side of things to take accountability for. It wasn’t until much later in life when I began to take responsibility for what was mine that I began to clear out the blockages that had built up from that time. But before that shift took place and while I was still in the midst of that dynamic between us, my coping strategies to manage my emotions would lead me to a number of harmful behaviors.
As I mentioned before, my relationship with alcohol started while I was in college as a response to managing my emotions from my first breakup. That pattern certainly continued while in the midst of college, and especially within managing my emotional hurts that came from the relationship I’ve spoken of. Sure, there were times when- just like many college kids- I would drink with the intention of having fun at a party or while spending time with friends. And there were plenty of times where I felt so heartbroken after being let down once again that my friends would support me by having a mid-week drinking session. Sometimes, those spaces helped to create feelings of happiness by sharing fun moments with those friends. Other times, it enhanced the feelings of heartache and sadness. And still other times, it brought out the rage from the parts of me that felt angry at the ways I allowed myself to be treated.
Outside of managing my emotions, alcohol became a source to manage feeling nervous or anxious while in social settings. At the onset of college, I began to mask more heavily than I had ever had. Shutting out the authentic parts of myself naturally led to some degree of masking. But in high school, that still involved a baseline of feeling nervous, shy, and awkward. In an attempt to make friends and to have a fresh start while in college, I shunned those less desirable traits and adopted a sense of self-esteem and confidence that was purely a mask. Underneath the false confidence was a persistent level of low self-esteem, low self-worth, and the beliefs that I was unlovable and undesirable. In addition to masking, alcohol was a tremendous aid in feeling less nervous and more confident amongst college peers. That too would be a pattern that followed me through life well after college.
My alcohol use was concerning, but was one that I neglected to accept the truth of. I brushed it off like it wasn’t a big deal- that everyone drank like that- and it was a normal experience at the time. I gaslit myself with how much of an issue it really was. I frequently drank to the point of blacking out, but I deflected from my truth by telling myself, “so much happened last night that I just don’t remember everything”. I also drank to the point of vomiting rather consistently, but again, told myself that was normal. The pattern of deflecting from reality and filtering out the truth of a situation would be something I continued for a number of years as well.
From the time that I was a kid until my time in college, I felt like I was the one chasing attention, connection, and love. Things started to shift about half-way through my undergrad program, to where I was the one getting other people’s attention. In the midst of the back-and-forth with the relationship I’ve spoken of, my appearance started to change significantly. When I first got to college, I wasn’t working out anymore, I didn’t eat very healthily, and my acne was still somewhat of an issue. I often had short hair and facial hair on my chin with long- and I mean long– sideburns. During college, I got a large tattoo from my shoulder to mid-bicep, pierced my lip, grew my hair out long, grew out a full beard, started eating healthier, worked out consistently, and my acne cleared up. All that to say, these physical changes didn’t go unnoticed by others.
Sometime around my Junior or Senior year, someone at the school started a twitter account named something like, “UT Tyler’s Most Sexy”, where people would leave anonymous comments about people they thought were attractive. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I would be mentioned on something like that. What’s more, someone went through and tallied up the number of mentions that each person had and it turns out that I was the top-mentioned person on the page. For the wounded parts of me that felt undesirable and unlovable, this was a major ego boost, but in a way that fed the mask I wore and took me further away from an authentic version of myself.
It wasn’t truly healing for those parts of me that craved love and belonging. In fact, it led me to believe that my worth and value was based on my appearances. Unless I was “hot”- then I wouldn’t be loveable. This in turn prompted me to start seeing others through that same lens. Prior to the girl I dated and our dynamic, and prior to the twitter page, I didn’t emphasize physical appearance in a potential partner all too much. But after going through the pains of the relationship combined with the false self-confidence that came from the twitter comments, I in turn made someone’s physical appearance a core factor in potential partners, all out of some twisted form of self-protection. Those protective walls would leave me at a very superficial and shallow level of connection for years.
During college, and even after, sex was a point of complication for me. For the relationship I mentioned, I wanted to wait to get to know one another and date for a little bit before we had sex. That was something that felt important to me and I wanted to make sure that I was truly connecting with the person I shared that space with. When we did start having sex- which truthfully was pressured by her- there were certainly times that felt very bonding and filled with a sense of love and connection. There were also times that felt very challenging, uncomfortable, and in which I felt distant from the moment. Sometimes I struggled with performing- other times I struggled with finishing- and in all those moments I felt such a surge of self-criticism and self-deprecation crash over me. I was scared that if I couldn’t “do better”, then I would be left for someone who could be better than I was.
This trend continued for years, and the levels of shame built and built. I thought there was something wrong with me, and that my worth as a person and partner was majorly affected by how I showed up in times of intimacy. It would be years before I realized that it was the result of gender dysphoria, and that I felt distant because my body didn’t want to move and express in the ways I felt expected to. I felt distant because I couldn’t enjoy those moments in the ways that my energy called out for. I was so closed off to myself that I was closed off to those moments. But all the while, I wanted that expression of connection so badly I put myself in those spaces and cycles time and time again.
Sex also became more complicated as I tried to grapple with the pains that I’ve spoken of. Again, without any guidance or support on how to work with my emotions, I let myself be swayed by the pressures of my friends at the time. I started to forsake myself and my values, and tried casual sex as a way of coping. The few times that I tried purely casual sex, I again felt disconnected and disappointed in myself (side note: for those who express themselves through casual sex, no judgment! So long as you’re safe, consenting, and caring for yourself, do what feels right for you!) and it left me feeling worse than before. There were times that I hoped a sexual connection would lead to something more between us, but that never happened. Through this, I had more reinforcement of those wounded parts that believed, “my self-worth is in my appearance, and this is all that people want from me”. By the time that someone actually gave me a chance and was open to a relationship with me, I was such an empty shell of a person with so many walls and so many masks that I wasn’t a presence within the relationship. Needless to say, it wasn’t long before we broke up.
Physical image as a whole became a struggle and self-imposed expectation during this time. It was here that my relationship with food began to feel more challenged. Even today, I sometimes struggle with urges to eat out of soothing anxiety- especially due to the sensory experience that is part of it. This would catch me in a loop where I would feel something uncomfortable, soothe through food (or alcohol), feel self-critical for what overeating would mean for weight gain/body image, and would compensate by engaging in some type of physical activity. This would lead me to over-exerting myself, and I was often injured. But rather than spend time rehabilitating the injury, my lack of self-worth and disconnection from my own body would cause me to say, “I’ll just deal with this when I’m older” and did not allow myself to slow down to attend to my needs in the moment.
In addition to all this, I simply lacked a connection to and motivation for life and living. There were many weekends where I stayed locked in my room binge-watching Netflix- rewatching TV shows I had already seen. There was a part of me that wanted so badly to get out and do more, but I didn’t know how to ask for help in making that happen. I didn’t think about looking into other avenues for support- and for much of my life, have felt that resources of help and support were simply outside my means so I didn’t even look into support. So I simply went through the motions of life, letting it take me where it would without any sense of purpose or direction. With that, I followed the opportunities as they came and adjusted my life path based on what was readily in front of me.
Part of my undergraduate studies required that I do an internship. Through a fellow teammate on my track and field team, I came to learn about a sport-performance facility in the area that worked with athletes during their off-seasons in order to prepare them for competition during their in-season sports. For this internship, I worked as a sport-performance coach and used it as a stepping stone in my path towards becoming a sport-psychologist. It was through this internship that I would later go on to work for them as a part-time coach. Immersing myself in this role and setting, I would pivot in my intentions and set my sights on becoming a strength and conditioning coach.
After graduating from my undergraduate program, I started my Master of Kinesiology program at UT Tyler. During my time there, something felt off. Something felt empty. Some part of me felt detached and distant from myself and my place in life. I began to sense that it was time for me to move on, and that I needed to pursue something else. So, I submitted an application to the University of Texas at Austin’s Master of Kinesiology program. I thought that it was mostly the setting and environment that was the issue, and so maybe moving to a city that would offer more opportunity to be involved with personal interests of mine would be a game-changer. However, I did not get into the program. I felt lost. I felt like I wasn’t living my own life. I felt like I didn’t know myself.
That summer, I visited the Beaver Creek area of Colorado with my friends that I had known since I was a kid. I had been to the state before on school trips, and once in the winter for a ski trip. But there was something different about this trip at this point in time. I can’t say that it was any particular moment or experience that stood out to me. But something about this trip woke me up to what life could be. I remember colors being more vivid, smells having a stronger aroma, the sounds being serene and calming. It is in looking back that I feel like the natural spaces of Colorado helped to awaken some of my senses and connection after a lengthy amount of time asleep. It was as if the nature was saying, “come to me”.
Returning from this trip, I felt inspired to make major changes and to look into new directions in life. With this desire for change, I found myself at odds with settling back into my old routine of things, not knowing what initiating change looked like. Something in me had shifted, and I felt dissatisfied and restless and needed to find some way out, though this restlessness was not enough to elicit a change from the patterns and habits that I fell into so easily. I kept on with the same-old, same-old. That would change one evening while sitting on my couch at home after I had just smoked a bowl of cannabis.
I would like to take a moment to acknowledge that a major part of my healing journey and my relationship with shamanism has included plant medicines as well as other psychedelic medicines. These medicines have helped connect me to deeper parts of authentic Self, and have been powerful influences in guiding me in my journey. They have helped to peel back the layers of protection that have left me blinded to what I pushed into the realm of shadow. They have been instrumental to stepping into the version of myself that I am today- and the versions that I will become. I will also take accountability for my misuse of these medicines as well, and acknowledge that there have been times that I have dishonored myself, those I love, and the spirits of these medicines because I have been irresponsible with their wisdom and power.
After smoking I had let my mind wander a bit, and started to reflect on my situation in life at that time. I started to go into my habit of future-tripping and getting caught up in my multi-year life plan. In this particular instance I noticed myself essentially coming to the conclusion, “I’ll do these things for the next couple of years and then I’ll start living my life the way I want to”. Shortly after, my thoughts came to an abrupt halt as I had a moment of realization that I had never quite sat with before.
“I could die at any moment. I’m not guaranteed tomorrow, let alone another couple of years”. This moment of awakening to the unknowns of what life holds in the time beyond the present moment. Coming to terms that life and death are outside of my control, and that I don’t get to choose when it’s time for me to make the transition into the next stage of life beyond this physical experience in a human body.
That moment and the spirit of cannabis really put my existence- as I could conceptualize it at the time- into perspective. I decided then and there that it was time for changes and that I needed to go in a new direction. I decided it was time to start living with intention and to do my best to live more fully. The first major step in this direction meant relocating somewhere different, as I knew that I couldn’t grow new roots in what felt like the shallow, rocky soil of my life in Tyler, TX (the shallow, rocky soil is just a metaphor. I’m sure the landscape is quite different from shallow and rocky as East Texas is really quite pretty and described as a “Piney Woods” landscape). I didn’t have a solid idea of what to do, but I knew that a change needed to happen immediately. So I chose to temporarily move back home where I would have a reset and get to set my bearings for the journey ahead.
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