A Re-introduction

 I suppose it's fitting that I write my return post the day before Father's Day. My dad, of course, is a central figure in the creation of this blog. 

For those of you just joining me on this journey, I started this project when I was in therapy. It was recommended that I start a journal, as many therapists advise. Despite my best efforts, I have never been able to maintain a personal journal. The closest I really have would be my poetry, but those are...incomplete for this purpose. So, I thought I would do better with an audience - I am a writer, after all. 

This choice came with many consequences, though thankfully nothing so permanent as a lost relationship or impact on my "day" life. I do well enough of that without a public forum. I'm taking this project up with a better understanding of myself, a firmer grasp on how to discuss deeply personal experiences without being cruel to those included, and the wisdom that comes with three? five? years of hard-won growth.

Without further ado, let me re-introduce myself. My name is Dorian. I am a sociologist, educator, and writer by nature and training. These labels are as intrinsic to me as my physical and mental illnesses, as embedded in me as my genetic code. I am learning to de-center them from my Core Identity, as they are ultimately activities and lenses which allow me to make sense of my experiences and the larger world.

Some of you who are returning and aren't personal or immediate friends may notice my change of name. I am a genderqueer dandy and a long-running joke has taken hold in my life (as it often does with these things). I changed my name socially a bit more than a year ago and included it on my resume earlier this year. My colleagues at my very new workplace know me by Dorian, which has been an interesting adjustment for me. There are multiple people who only know me by my chosen name and I'm slowly learning not to use my given name as a battering ram when I am unhappy with myself. It's been a truly wonderful journey.

Over the past three years, I have integrated a self-diagnosis of autism into my net of self-support. This has been a long-running Thing(tm), especially as the COVID lockdown (and governmental mismanagement) has forced me to sit with myself in a way I could never do on my own. This framework has given me an appreciation for my long-running fascinations (read: special interests), why I have the kind of metacognition that I do (e.g. my constant desire to understand how my behavior relates to those that people find annoying or upsetting), and the copious sensory challenges I run into (like with fluorescent lights, certain textures & sounds, and my relationship with pain).

I have been delving into understanding my chronic pain, as well. I have official diagnoses of fibromyalgia and Hashimoto's disease. I have eliminated gluten from my diet and have been actively working to rest more, which helps with chronic fatigue and brain fog but leaves me feeling very unfulfilled. Going to the gym helps, especially in building muscle to support my increasingly unreliable joints, but I have to be very careful about much I work (my muscles are willing, but my joints are weak). It feels like an ever-changing balancing act between motion and rest that I'm not sure I'll ever master. 

In short (too late) - I am learning my limits and needs. I am working to build environments where I can be healthy and supported. There is so much I am terrified of in the world - which I'll explore in future posts, I'm sure - that I realized I need to find a way to feel safe (possibly for the first time in my life). It's quite the adjustment. I'm fighting coping skills that are no longer viable, unlearning awful habits that reinforce my feelings of danger, and learning to trust those around me to both respect my boundaries and provide the supports I need to be whole. It's hard and scary, but I'm doing it.

Welcome back. I look forward to sharing my journey with you.