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~

There was a time when she felt completely lost, like a stranger to her own reflection. The weight of pain, fear, and self-doubt had buried her true self so deeply that she didn’t realize how much of herself she had been hiding. The healing process wasn’t something she sought out intentionally—it began as a means of survival, her life suddenly impacted by a single event that forced her to step into the depths of the unknown.

At first, healing felt like unraveling the shredded pieces of her life. She was forced to confront parts of herself she didn’t want to face: the hurt, the anger, and the pieces she believed were irreparably broken, including her passion for changing lives with the sound of her voice. It was messy and uncomfortable, but it was also a raw and honest journey. Slowly, she began to understand that those broken pieces weren’t something to be ashamed of—they were stepping stones to rediscovering who she truly was and who she was becoming as she waded into the deep.

What surprised her most was realizing the strength she already carried within her soul. She found her healing in the most difficult spaces. For so long, she thought she needed to be “fixed,” but the truth was, she simply needed to reconnect with herself. Each moment of reflection, forgiveness, and growth became a step toward reclaiming the person she was always meant to be.

She was undefined by a diagnosis. Her worth, identity, and potential were not confined or limited by any medical diagnosis or label attached to her spiritual garments. She found the strength to whisper to her reflection, “I am more than my condition, and it does not define who I am.”

It was about rejecting labels that boxed her in and instead embracing the complexity and depth of who she was beyond what any diagnosis might suggest. She declared to the world a powerful affirmation: “Thank you for the medical jargon, but this time, I’ll write my own story—one that mandates new ABILITIES!”

There were days when it all felt overwhelming, but those were the moments she learned to lean into kindness—especially toward herself. She found joy in the smallest things: the warmth of sunlight, the sound of her own laughter, the feeling of her breath grounding her in the present. Each small step brought her closer to herself. She demanded that her healing be louder than the silence.

Looking back now, she can see how far she’s come. The healing process wasn’t about erasing her pain; it was about transforming it into something meaningful. It taught her that she wasn’t defined by what had happened to her but by how she chose to move forward and help heal others.

Finding herself wasn’t a single, dramatic moment. It was a series of small, quiet realizations that she was enough, just as she was, and that she was still learning to grow. Healing didn’t make her perfect—it made her whole. And for that, she will always feel a deep sense of gratitude for stepping away from the shallows and into the deep. Her transformation is a reflection of the courage it took to walk into the depths and rediscover her true self.

As you rise from the ashes, something remarkable happens. You begin to see the masterpiece that you are. Every scar, every tear, every step forward becomes a brushstroke on the canvas of your life.

You are no longer the person you were before the trauma endured—but that’s not a loss. The person you are becoming is stronger, wiser, and more compassionate. You have walked through fire and emerged with a strength that cannot be taken from you.

This masterpiece you are creating is not perfect, nor should it be. It is real, raw, and breathtakingly human. It is a testament to your resilience, your ability to heal, and your refusal to let darkness define your story.

Your journey of rising from the ashes is not just for you. When you are ready, your story becomes a beacon for others still trapped in their pain. By sharing your truth and redemption, you remind them that healing is possible, that they are not alone, and that they too can rise. There is beauty from the ashes if you allow yourself to rise up and over the trauma inflicted.

Your courage becomes a light that pierces through the darkness, a reminder that beauty can emerge even from the deepest pain. No longer defined by a life sentence; rather a beautiful masterpiece refined by the inferno.

Rising from the ashes of trauma is not about erasing the past; it’s about transforming it. It’s about taking the pain and using it to create something extraordinary—a life lived boldly, authentically, and fully.

You are not what happened to you. You are the masterpiece you have become, a testimony and alive to guide others out of the inferno.

So, rise. Paint your life with every color of your journey. Embrace your strength, honor your scars, and stand tall in the knowledge that you are whole, worthy, radiant, beautiful and YOU-uniquely YOU.

Because you, dear survivor, are a masterpiece—and the world is brighter because of you.

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.

Dear Younger Self:

I take one glance at you, and the first words that come to mind are weathered and worn. You have been through so much and have had it sheltered in what you had considered your safe place. I know you were so young so there was no way for you to fully conceptualize the magnitude of everything that was happening to you as you were developing.

Waking up and dragging yourself every day was a struggle. You would beg and plead to just stay home as to not face what was going on with you in school. I could look at your face and see the visible stress that your childhood was causing you.

You went to school only to get teased and laughed at because of your disability. Something that was not your fault and no one else’s fault. You were being neglected and left behind by teachers and the people who were meant to be there as a building block in your life seemed more like a roadblock.

Because of the neglect I felt, my typing teacher called a meeting to tell my mother that I smelled of urine. My mom got visibly upset and said that if I had the help I needed, this meeting would have never had to happen.

I would say that this situation was the turning point that caused you to go downhill as far as depression is concerned. I look back on that version of you, and the first thing I recall is the bags under your eyes from no sleep and your disheveled hair from an obvious lack of self-care.

I can clearly remember when you were begging your mom to let you stay home from school to avoid the overly emotional load and toll it took on both your mind and body. Your parents had to continually remind you of how far you had already come and that you only had a couple of months left.

I knew from the way that you were struggling that months would feel more like years. Thec days were grueling, going from feeling like you were someone important to the feeling that you felt like you didn’t matter to anyone.

These mood swings had your depression declining in every sense of the word. So much so that you had begun to wonder if life was worth living anymore. You came home every single day to put your Lifehouse “No Name Face” CD on and cry your eyes out because the lyrics of every song had an unusual tug on both your heart and mind. You had never felt a connection with a band like this, and you knew that it was something very special. So special in fact that the lyrics from the song “Simon” can be credited with saving your life and bringing you back to life in a way that would become nothing short of a miracle.

As you move on in your life and graduate from high school, this is when you begin to see significant changes in both your behavior and mental health status. You had never experienced such a positive feeling before. College was a turning point when you had a great interest in your social work studies and were fully immersed in techniques to help others while also becoming a better person and working on the prosperous adult you were working so unbelievably hard to become.

Your grades were excellent and you were feeling like a brand-new person in all aspects of the word. I believe that college can also be credited with your positive decisions to keep going no matter what roadblocks you have yet to face. There would be numerous ups and downs, but the good news is now you know how to handle them in appropriate ways.

You should be immensely proud of yourself. You rose up from the very bottom of depression, only to rise as a more confident and loving human being. You did what a lot of other people unfortunately don’t end up doing, and that is surviving the worst moments of your life. You still do not give yourself adequate credit. You are so strong; your strength is your pinnacle. Not enough can ever be said about the way you have chosen to live despite the fact that your disability has taken over your body and stripped you of your once-treasured independence. You always tell others that your patience and laid-back attitude are your secret to happiness, However, I feel that your strength is your real superpower. Give yourself the credit, it is not arrogant when it is the truth.

The past still haunts me when I pull into certain places. I can still feel your grip. I thought I made amends with it, but it still makes itself known as a horrible nightmare that won’t go away. It’s been seven years now and it can still make me cry. You probably don’t even remember.

I had been running errands all day and had to stop and use the restroom. The closest one available was the one I didn’t want to stop at. Damn! That would mean I would have to go out of my way to find a different one. It had been seven years since I had been in that gas station. God, I don’t want to go in there. This is so stupid! Jesus, it’s been seven years. That’s it I’m going in. I am so tired of you still dictating where I go. You probably don’t even remember.

So, I parked my car, and stomping my feet I went in. As soon as the door shut, I was brought back to that night. I honestly don’t remember why you even got mad. Wait it’s the reason you always got angry. Jealously of some made-up thoughts or ideas in your mind of me being with someone else. The funny thing is I was always with you even when I didn’t want to be and that was a lot of the time. I remember you dropping me off at Walmart and threatening to leave me again like you did. So I ran to that gas station. You probably don’t even remember.

You would do that a lot drive around endlessly never taking me home. I felt like I was in your car for days staring out the window…oh wait I was. I remember you asking me “What are you doing?’ I said, “reading all the signs.” I thought if someone could hear me then they would know where I am and maybe they will find me. You know if I ended up dead. You would then threaten to leave me at some faraway place with no phone and no money. Standing there in the parking lot helpless and hopeless. You probably don’t even remember.

God what is that smell…oh I’m still in the bathroom. I was pretty sure you were going to hit me again. So, I locked myself in that nasty stall, so I felt safe. Then the knock came along with your voice and as scared as I was, I let you in. Damn, why did I always let you in? You pushed your way in and grabbed my neck and shoved me up against the wall. I honestly can’t recall what you said. My mind just shut down and then you left. I slowly opened the door and went out I didn’t see your car thank God. So, I ran to Walmart only to find you there. Looking left and then to my right not a car in sight. Damn, why did I always get in? It’s finally starting to fade the memories of you. Thank God I can’t make your face out I guess my brain is shielding me from you.
You probably don’t even remember.

Why can’t I love him?
He makes me all tingly in the morning leaving me begging for more.
Why can’t I love him?
His Cheshier smiles draw me in and hypnotizes me.
Why can’t I love the way he kisses me?
As if my kisses alone are the fountains of youth to my soul.
Why can’t I love the way he speaks?
With that accent that leaves me like putty in his hands.
Why can’t I love the way he cuddles me in his arms?
He shields me from the world.
Why can’t I love the way he laughs?
His laugh Ignites a spark in my heart that brings me pure joy.
Why can’t I love the way he takes care of me?
He makes me feel safe for the first time in a decade.
Now tell me why I can’t love this man.

Today I was driving rushing and running on my 30-munitue lunch break. Hurring to get back to work to eat my fried shrimp and for a moment I thought I saw you. For the first time I didn’t get scared. Anxiety didn’t run the show, and I didn’t have to stop my mind from going down that rabbit hole. Instead, I parked the car smiled to myself the biggest smile and almost cried. Not because I am sad but because for the first time, I didn’t get scared. I realized just how strong I am and the scars that you left have healed. I didn’t get that pit in my stomach, and I didn’t lose control. I held my head high, stood my ground and I didn’t have to fight with my former self. For the first time in 6 years, I didn’t get scared. Anxiety didn’t run the show, and I didn’t have to stop my mind from going down that rabbit hole. Today was the day I realized I was free.

A small shadowy figure of a girl stumbles out of her house, and quickly paces through her backyard. The lawn hasn’t been cut but she still treads through barefoot without a care. To others around her she seems disheveled, even slightly scary. She heads towards the darkest corner and peers over her raggedy fence and caught a nice gaze at the sky. “Ahhhh, no clouds tonight” she happily told herself.

What this means for Jaria, is she can do her thing now finally. No obstructions tonight. She closes her eyes and throws a nice calming frequency tone on in the background. Takes a deep breath and then asks for guidance from within. She realizes that way too much suffering has been occurring for far too long. Past, present, and future if nothing changes. Her focus starts tuning in and here come all her higher thoughts. She calmly reaches for her blue selenite crystal because she remembers the moon will recharge it. A special friend from the Unkechaug Tribe told her this tip many years ago. She keeps paying attention to her breathing, and the breaths get longer, fuller and somehow even more fulfilling. She stretches out every part of her body, then says ok “RELEASE”!

Nothing major or dramatic seems to have occurred. Atleast not instantly that is….Jaria lightly starts humming and moving her legs around. She remembers stories as a little girl, and now senses the whispers of her ancestors telling her to dance. See, dancing for her was not just for what you see on television. Dancing was not only part of her culture, it was used for it’s healing properties as well.

We all have energy, and movement causes vibration. Vibration can in turn heal us. Jaria didn’t have many words to speak anymore. She has seen a lot here on Earth. So this is what she must do to remain calm and strong if there is to be any future hope left in humanity.

Dancing somehow holds the key which is put into a doorknob and when she turns it-she’s granted access to somehow release all of her hidden emotions. She can somehow feel a sense of control by the mastery of her movements the older she gets.

All of a sudden Jaria isn’t so disheveled and uncharged. Swiftly she notices more, then she has enough self awareness to pick up on her own bad mood and decide to change it. She has no care for the conception of time, monetary items or toxicity. She walks to the beat of her own drum… literally.

Two hours has gone by, and it’s going to take a full nights rest now. This was a lot on Jaria’s soul. But in a good way. She breezes past her neighbors, now seeming light as a feather. Even her neighbors figure she must have gotten some good news or something.

Unfortunately this is a common pattern for our little moon child here. This is what Jaria must keep doing not only for herself, but for all future spiritual creatures alike. May we all find our place in the Universe.

Dear little me,

This is not even a dream that you know you have yet, but oh how I wish I could tell you how brave you are going to be one day! How you will burst out of the role you think you are meant to play. A lot has changed since we were small, but the goodness inside you was a part of it all.

In your twenties, on a seemingly random day and not in any way planned, you will get to come out to mom and dad. Notice I said, “get to,” because for awhile you will think that no one needs to know. Being honest with ourselves about it was such a fight in the first place. Then gradually we told a few safe people, dear friends and allies who embrace us fully as we were. And we feel so lucky. But there is still some fear in expressing it to others, including some family, so we steer clear.

But then, on a day that did not start of grand and then continued to feel like it was getting more out of hand.. when mom tries to ask you what is going on inside, you start to open up about some questions and doubts you’ve been hiding. Then all of the sudden, without any warning, you blurt out, “Oh and by the way, I’m not straight!” It was probably a bit jarring.

You wait for the questions and badgering to start, but instead they let you talk and they listen with fairly open hearts. After that, I’ll be frank, it is not sunshine and roses. Along the way to understanding there have been plenty of bumpy roads.

And I know what you are thinking, because I think it a lot: why did we get lucky when so many do not? I wish I had an answer to that query, but the truth is that sometimes the answers can be very elusive and maybe some answers do not exist. There is a lot we still do not know, but let me scratch something from the list.

I know I am not a mistake, and that I deserve acceptance and kindness. I believe that is universal, no matter what some may say in their blindness. And while I am still growing and changing and discovering myself, I am learning not to hide away on a dark, shaded shelf.

Hugs to you, little one.

Dear readers,
Living your dreams is something we are told to do as children but, the second we realize what our dreams are, they seem impossible to achieve. Nursing school is hard, 4 years of medical school, 4 years of residency, you graduate to be a teacher only to realize teaching is not all it’s cracked up to be. But, with the right support of your friends and family, your dreams are possible! You will become the neurosurgeon you’ve always wanted to be. You will be that special education teacher you’ve always dreamed about. My only advice I have is to Live Your Dreams and Never Give Up!!