dec 11
a journal on familial bonds.
the oddities in which the preservation of familial bonds has brought is an interesting notion worth unpacking. I keep one pillow sheet on a pillow here, and one there. as the matching florals bring comfort to both homes I go to. I use the locker in the gym of my father’s favorite number, as the unification of father and daughter presents itself in strange ways. but I somehow feel closer knowing my stuff is protected by him despite the distance. 3:33 is my favorite time to present each day as my mom and I share that in common, and I’m under the belief it keeps us closer. every store I go into, I’m on the lookout for new hello kitty themed items, as my sister recently took on the fascination for the cartoon that made an impact on a portion of my childhood too. as she grows older, our age gap seems to close, as if to be an illusion, as we begin to look more alike. I love that we carry each other with us every day.

I spend the days looking for ways to feel closer to my family, even though our distance keeps me humble.

growing up, I loved sitting in the kitchen with my dad as he would cook dinner. I learned a lot during those times. funny enough, my favorite thing I learned to cook from him was his scrambled eggs in the bowl passed down from my grandma. it’s the scrambled egg bowl. one day I’ll buy a bowl just to scramble my eggs in, but for now I’ll reminisce on that bowl knowing my eggs will never scramble as well as they do inside that bowl. he also taught me the importance of the preparation the night before. for anything, but specifically, he loves to prepare his coffee the night before for an easier wake up. I think a warm cup of coffee ready to go is a good reason to get out of bed in the morning, too.

I go through days holding onto random parts of the things that remind me of family, of the love we hold. for familial love is not one easy to replicate. and I don’t bother to replicate it, I spend my time attempting its infiltration into my daily life. to bring the love with me.

I am a mosaic of the people I love. pieces of them make up me and falter a greater sense of who I am. as I am only me because those who brought me here.

Dear Unsealer’s,
# What’s your love story
part 1

Originally Recorded February 2020 By: Taylor Vance
Our love Story began over a year ago at a point in my life when I thought my ability to love someone else was gone. Being a widow with two children was what I believed the rest of my life would always be not ever knowing or sharing true love again. This love came on blind, unexpected & pure. Not out of pity & without judgement which brought light back into my life. He gave me the opportunity to see and experience things I only dreamed of, but thought I would never do. Him well he was a Gypsy roaming wild and free, me well I was the pioneer never to venture too far away from home or family. He was excited to show & share his ways & worldly experiences with me mostly, more than he even knew he reminded me to LIVE & LOVE life again. I am very thankful GOD sent me a good man with only good intentions for myself and my children. I found this quote that resonates with me how I feel our relationship came to be & is the base of which we began on January 5,2019.

“Maybe she needed HIM to show her how to LIVE and Maybe he needed HER to show him how to LOVE”

ONE YEAR DOWN, FOREVER TO GO

love Taylor 2-2020
Taylor & Shane 2019

NOT THE END, INSTEAD TO BE CONTINUED…….

The story begins with an ordinary day, a simple act of showing up. I walked into a speech therapy session, my mind preoccupied with the familiar routine. But that day, the routine was interrupted.

A beautiful foster mom sat in the foyer of her warm, life-filled home. Her children ran and played nearby, their laughter filling the room. As I stepped in, I was welcomed into their family’s village, embraced by their kindness and warmth. As I settled in, she asked a question that would change the course of our lives forever:

“Do you know anyone that might be able to adopt?”

It felt like time stopped. The words echoed in my heart, touching a place I hadn’t dared to let hope visit for years. It was as if a seed of possibility was being planted. Little did I know, the answer to her question would become the answer to a prayer written years before, tucked away in my husband’s gratitude journal since 2016. Yet, this happened on November 17, 2020.

Four years earlier, he had written, “Lord, if it’s Your will, bring forth a son.” I had no idea he’d written that prayer—not just once, but on every single page of his gratitude journal. And unbeknownst to him, he didn’t know how many nights I had spent crying out to God, aching for the child we had yet to hold.

The journey began quietly, like the unfolding of a miracle too big to see all at once. Over the next nine months, we walked a path full of hope, paperwork, and prayer, not realizing how beautifully orchestrated it all was. The moment finally came on a day already heavy with meaning—a day tied to both sorrow and healing.

It was a due date I had carried in my heart for years, tied to a miscarriage that had once left me shattered. But it was also the very same day we stood before a judge, holding hands, and became the parents of the most beautiful boy—our son.

God had taken the broken pieces of my story and made something beautiful. What once was a date of mourning became a day of indescribable joy. He had turned my sorrow into joy in a way I never imagined possible.

Fifteen years of tears fell in that virtual courtroom, but they were no longer tears of grief. They were tears of gratitude, awe, and love for the child we were finally able to call our own.

For anyone who knows the void of infertility, who feels the ache of unfulfilled longing, I want you to know this: your story isn’t over. There is still hope. The journey may not look the way you imagined, and it may take longer than your heart feels it can bear, but miracles have a way of finding us when we least expect them.

Sometimes, they come through a foster family asking a question. Sometimes, they come through a prayer written quietly in a journal. And sometimes, they come on the very day you thought joy was impossible.

Hold on. There is still hope. YOUR STORY IS NOT OVER!

Question
“If the deepest pain you’ve experienced was meant to prepare you for a purpose greater than you imagined, how might that change the way you view your journey?”

Content, a word that strikes my soul,
A whisper of stillness, an impossible goal.
It seems so small, yet feels so vast,
A memory of my past.

Perhaps it’s my youth, so restless, unkind,
An experience that shaped my mind.
Or is it the hunger to strive,
To chase the horizon and feel alive.

What if content is comfort’s face?
A quiet corner, a gentle space.
And yet I flinch—am I afraid,
Of the peace that comfort has made?

Is it the lie of stillness, so untrue,
The quiet, my mind can’t pursue?
A darkness woven deep inside,
Where comfort and fear collide.

Will I ever grant myself the grace,
To rest my soul, to find my place?
Or will I run, forever torn,
Chasing a dawn that will never be born?

So she lived- she didn’t have a choice. It was a gift granted- although there were times in her life when she wanted to lay in the middle of the parkway or on her knees and pray.
It all depended on the day- the weather and the color of her lipstick.
Lately it’s been neutral – as everything she thought for 547 days never appealed-
She was duped for allowing someone in her heart…
“How” she asked herself- the promise to keep her wall up was broken at the sound of remorse -not from her lips but those of her distant lover- the one who saw prey and tried to ravage the Beast while she slept – She gave in. The truth was real. The honesty was from the heart but the storyline line and pity was one for the books, as she had never been that stupid to believe in someone else’s dream- Like- Who does that? The Fool!
Should have, would have and finally did with pain – not in her heart, but in her body. She walked away.
Her biggest fear is becoming cold- losing the innocence- not being able to find that place within her that makes her dance on the rainiest of days-
But she knew it was in her genetics – it was how she was bred.
Strength and wisdom come from silence.

This was written on July 12th, 2019. It was the day of my legal name change. I would wake up that morning as Greg and go to work, and that evening I would go to bed as Lillie. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, not because I was unsure of myself but because I had socially transitioned only 5 weeks prior.
I spent 43 years as Greg, hiding who I was so far in the closet I was finding Christmas presents (Thanks for that line, Steph). I had no idea who Lillie was and I’m still learning who I am as a woman one year later. I was scared of the unknown and what my new role in this world would look like.
After I got home from the courthouse, with a smile on my face and tears of joy in my eyes I sat down and finished this letter. The end result you see here is nothing like my first drafts. As much as I wanted to (and sometimes still want to) hate the man I was, I have been told that I should show compassion for him. For he was doing the best he could while battling his internal turmoil in a world where women like me are seen as subhuman, he did his best to protect me. This is for you Gregory,

Dear Gregory,

There’s no amount of words that can ever truly express the pain that I’m sure you’ve felt these years. You’ve kept me locked up, quiet, ignored, and worst of all – shamed for even existing. You have taken far more abuse from my internal self than is fair, even more than we have had externally. Some people have it rough in life, and you’ve made sure you had your fair share with your own self neglect and self-destructive tendencies.
You haven’t been able to ever be yourself, because you’ve had to be a “boy” because of the way your body has been. I don’t know if it’s entirely how we were born, but there are clearly signs that we have been living behind a mask of being a man. We may never have those answers. I will, however, live our identity as I am, not as we have been told to. That means you have to have the space to grow up and become the woman that we were meant to be, not the man that society says we are.
You have given me plenty of skills to succeed in this life and I promise I will do my best to not disappoint you as you hand off the torch to me. You have given me 4 beautiful children that I would not trade for anything in this world. I want you to know you have done an amazing job surviving in this world that can be utterly unfair and cruel at times. You plugged away and dug your heels in the ground and never gave up even though I know you wanted to.
Despite everything you dealt with and everything you were battling internally you did your best to be a compassionate human being. You struggled sometimes with your 2 but you always managed to find your way through. Almost 2 years ago you started to finally listen to yourself and found me hiding inside of you and I want to thank you for that, I was starting to lose my voice. But you listened and let me start to come out. I know it has been a hell of a ride we’ve travelled, sometimes separately, sometimes together. Guess what? We made it. I’m proud to have had you in my life and I’m proud to have the strength you’ve given me to continue down this path of mine. Without you, without all your experiences in the world, this wouldn’t be possible. Thank you again Gregory, I promise I’ll take care of me now. I hope you will be proud while you watch me blossom into who we were meant to be.

Lillith

I wrote this to myself July 2nd of 2019. This was in the days leading up to my name change. My therapist had suggested some kind of ceremony, something to commemorate my name change. I had struggled with wanting to do something for this milestone in my life, I had socially transitioned 3 weeks prior, and I really wanted to celebrate my transition somehow. My days as Greg were numbered and I wanted closure on that chapter in my life. In the 2 years seeing my therapist exploring my gender I would ‘write’ in a diary on my phone and let my therapist read it at the beginning of each session and that would dictate how the session would go. I had shown an affinity for expressing myself through writing in the previous 2 years so writing me a letter from him to her was my assignment. This would be the very first of my essays about my transition and what we as transgender people go through.

Lillith,

Take a breath. Look down at your two feet. Where are they right now? Look around you. Do you see nature? Go touch the leaves. Pick a flower and deeply inhale its beautiful fragrance. Do you hear birds? Stop and take a moment to go listen to their music, because not everyone is so fortunate enough to be able to hear and enjoy that experience. Do you feel the sunshine on your skin? If not, go step outside and be grateful for the fact that it is constantly shining down on you, and that you are alive.
Life isn’t a sprint, it’s a long race and you’re not in it just to “win.” Be gentle with yourself. Be messy sometimes. Let it all go. Embrace all of your learnings and cherish your experiences because they truly are divinely fated.
No one lives forever so be sure to cherish every moment, and when they pass and when you pass, find comfort in knowing that we are simply souls within these bodies, and we will all be connected at some point again. Life is a gift, not something that is a given, so enjoy every second while you’re here. Make the most of it. Live it to your fullest and please, be true to yourself Lillie. You had a rough road to travel just to even exist. You are valid, you are real. It’s not a dream anymore. I’m handing over the keys to this vessel I’ve called home for so long. Now it’s your turn. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize this was your home and you were screaming to be let in. I know you’ll do great things, and I know you’re truly on your path to happiness now.
While I know you aren’t as experienced in the world, you are getting ready. Soon, I’ll leave full charge to you, because you are the only one who is truly deserving of this body. Even if it never matches how you feel some days, it will always be yours. I’m sorry for having contaminated it with the presence that was male. My stoic demeanor has been wearing us down, and while it has been partly to hide the pain, it’s just as much because of my embarrassment from having you inside. This is your body, not mine. I really hope that I didn’t screw it up too much for you. Wear what clothes you want, because you deserve to wear them. Be the woman you were destined to be. Don’t be defined by my mistakes.
Years ago, I prayed to anyone and anything that would listen for your happiness. On your road ahead please don’t lose hope. We were put here on this earth to feel joy and not be blue. There will be sad times and bad times, and I know that you have the strength to see them through. Look at how far you have come. Look at all you’ve accomplished. Hold your head high! Though I can’t know for sure how things will work out for you, no matter how hard it gets, please realize, please understand that you weren’t put on this earth to suffer and cry. We were made to be happy. So, for me…..for you….please….be happy.

Gregory

I sat on concrete pavement asking the stars to show me a sign~

Snow flakes melted on my lips~
Opened eyes
I knew he heard my chime
The wind was speaking to me~
“Child ~always be kind”

Visions of a natural divine- My Lord did hear my cries

I wanted to be held by thee
A force to teach me wise
My daddy a vague belief
My Father treats me kind
I fall in arms so thought to be something I long to know

Pandora reassures herself at midnight in full moon’s glow

Heavy footsteps led a life in vain
Heartless memories draw so much shame
As only I smile to feed the dreaming tree
“Daddy come quick” so gone in memory
I begged and plead that very night God took heed in the stars so bright
Though disbelieved the sacred wind
To trail the roots that polluted kin
Begged salvation for I reached the depth
To discover the dreaming tree subsists
Nourish it with heart plus soul
Two sprinkles of dreams and three of gold
A dash immortality and one of bold

The dreaming tree lives, the relics unfold

Those who did not believe that night
Heard the winds had predicted a crest moon and rain
When evil lied in rhythms of naked branches

The eclipse made the marked apologize in nodded shame

My dreaming tree had grown all this time
I knew,
I know,
I believe.

I gave my all (so spent) as dear you are to me
The forecast called for a sunshine horizon
Out on the torrent sea
The dreaming tree survives in you
May your daddy be thoughts in knotted ribbons of blue
Your Father will provide for you at times of despair.
My dreaming tree blossoms
I smell spring in the air~

Dear Former Self,

I know life is hard for you. I understand how just existing is painful. Once you dreamed of being happy, or at least content. Now you only dream of death. Don’t give up though little one. Start believing that happiness is within reach, that you can and will find it someday.

You think you’re so wise, but there’s things you still don’t know. Someone should have told you that what you’re feeling is a sickness of the mind. Instead they let you believe you are bad – antisocial to hide away, stubborn not to eat, and “always airing your dirty laundry” when you finally do speak. This sickness, this clinical depression, has eaten away your confidence, overwhelmed you with sadness, and closed you eyes to hope. It’s trying to kill you and right now it’s winning. But you’ll get strong, find the help you need, and beat this thing back.

Someday those endless stream of doctors will lead you to some good medicine. You’ll have to keep up with a lot of pills, but it will quell that mad misery plaguing you. You will get to know your sickness inside and out, including how to zap it’s energy and hold over you.

I will not lie. You will never kill the beast. But your dream of happiness is still achievable. You can learn to tame the monster, hold it at bay, and when it grabs you, you’ll be able to loosen yourself from its grip. As you grow bigger, it’ll get small and weak.

Someday you won’t be alone in your struggle either. You’ll find love and understanding in real friends and a life partner who takes care of you when you can’t care of yourself. This love will fill your dry well of loneliness and you’ll feel warmth instead of that chilling cold.

You’ll manage a semblance of normalcy – and not as a show, but genuine stability and satisfaction. You won’t be happy all the time, but you will come to a place where you realize you’re happy with your life. No longer will you dream of death. Instead you’ll dream of exciting new adventure lying ahead. Oh, and adventures you will have – summitting snowy peaks, riding trains through India, making wine with your cousins in eastern Europe, skinny dipping in the Pacific Ocean, studying under the Dalai Lama, and so much more.

So don’t give up little one. It may take a while, but some day your dream of happiness will come true.

What is it that you seek?
What is it that you saw?
You should never listen to my wicked crystal ball.
What is it that you seek?
What is it that you saw?
You should never listen to my wicked Crystal Ball.
Have you seen the crystal ball?
Have you heard the souls scream trapped in her cloudy walls?
Everything you love gone before it even happens,
nothing left of your soul among the cold dark ashes.
They say fools wish to be free,
until they’re in a free fall…
Fools gamble time and the ball she takes it all
‘Cause the crystal is a cheat,
the crystal is a liar,
The crystal is a frozen world of ice and of fire. To live in a lie the price is the truth,
to be frozen in time the price is your youth. But you knew, it never tricked you,
You let it seduce you, left scars on your skin-as if it ever needed you.
Some always come crawling,
some may escape her call.
But you should never listen to my wicked Crystal Ball…
What is it that you seek?
What is it that you saw?
You should never listen to my wicked crystal ball…
You should never listen to my wicked crystal ball.

A young boy sits in a wooden chair
Gazing forward
A ball of crystal perched before him
Almost invisible
It warps and clouds what lay behind it
He knows there will be a price
But he must try
He wants to know,
He has to know.
He gazes into its prism chamber
And it tells.
When he lifts his head, his breath taken away
The awe of the secrets told to him
Fade
When he sees his reflection
He sees that he is no longer the same man
But old, so old.
The ball has told him what he wished to know
But he had to pay the price of time
He walks away, as many have before,
Feeling cheated
Feeling like it all went by so fast
If he could only have another chance
If he could only get that time back
But he can’t
Time is the only thing you have
And the only thing you can never have
It is yours, spent
And the crystal ball will steal your time
The crystal will steal your life.