My Journey, My Style

Gratitude! My better Angels

27 May 2025

faith, Journal Style!, Lesbian, Gay, Bi-Sexual, Transgender! Oh,yeah!, My Story, Topic Thought.

In a dark world and troubling times, especially in America, focusing on the negatives, trends, self-hate, and discord is easier. This summer brings me to a year’s worth of good and bad memories. So, for this post, I want to focus on the good.

I’m grateful to the Lord for providing me medications and multiple treaters for my schizoaffective biopolar 1 type, ADHD, bulimia, anxiety, PTSD, depression, and gender dysphoria. I’m grateful to the Lord for every shot I receive for my condition. I’m grateful to be heard and seen not as an ill person but a person working towards wholeness.

I’m grateful to the Lord for saving me from a car accident 15 years ago that plagued me with physical pain, illness, such as fibromyalgia, spinal stenosis, and carpal tunnel. It could’ve been worse. I deal with pain daily, I can’t run or jump, or work out. It’s put on weight. However, I still have a life worth living, and an excellent team is keeping me healthy and working on my mobility.

I am grateful to the Lord for my university, seminary, undergraduate, and amazing high school. I say this because I have met professors who pushed me into greatness and believe I can be a scholar, I’ve had professors become friends, and I’m thriving. Sound High School is a family, and once a member, forever family. Love them with my whole heart.

I’m grateful to the Lord for experiencing homelessness, poverty, needing Medicaid and Medicare, SNAP, and public safe housing. I didn’t enjoy it initially, and the route to safe housing was a long process. With the Lord’s help, I did it! I am still only Medicare, Medicaid, SNAP, and SSDI/SSI. It may not be part of my future as I climb the ladder of success; however, it’s helping now and saving my life through medical insurance, preventative care, and food nutrition.

I’m genuinely grateful to the Lord for SSI/SSDI, which I started in 2014, earning $495 a year while working. Then, I increased it to $945 and was still working. Then it increased when my disability was at its worst to $1,283 a month. I’m grateful. I can pay rent, buy extra food, pay for personal health and hygiene products, including my $135 amount of vitamins a month. Also, it helps pay for my bunny son. Every month, I proudly give 10% back to the house of the Lord, which is $128, and I donate it to ECV HELPS, which gives money to the needy, poor, and those needing assistance in my community and at church.

I’m grateful to the Lord for my church. Elm City Vineyard for the love of a second family, a new mom and dad with young siblings, and receiving hugs and love every Sunday morning. I am also taught the word of God in the style of a talk, which leaves room to digest and think. What better place to serve the Lord than at ECV!

I’m grateful to the Lord for foster care, helping me survive, and not becoming another statistic. I was taught leadership, love, empathy, self-control, and confidence.

I’m thankful for my biological family, but they are not the best family and have chosen to leave me alone. They don’t know how to love me or show love. However, I still love them. With the drop of a hat, I’d be there for them. I still have family, even if I have to love from a distance.

I’m grateful for those who did me harm, my biological family, childhood church, my foster parents Caroline and Gene and their children seeking to destroy me through dehumanization and as a monthly pay check, my seminary college and universities seeking to oppress me for being trans and queer and those who raped me as a child, a mother who beat me until bleeding, adulthood rape, abuse from bosses at Starbucks, and those who hate me and don’t know the adult me. I pray for a special blessing, purpose, wealth, love, and success in all they do in life, and for them to grow into better angels.

I’m grateful to the Lord for Planned Parenthood, for the STI check-ups, HRT (this saves my life), flu shots, PREP, and pap smears every 3 years. I say thank you, and may your work multiply, and more trans lives be saved, and women, men, and nonbinary folks survive and thrive.

I’m grateful to the Lord for my recovery assistants (RAs) who help me with chores, go to appointments, and give me a life and hope back. Thank you, Miss Jessica, Mrs. H, Miss Jay, Miss Jazlyn, Broski, Joy, Beck n Call Homecare, and all the others.

I’m grateful to the Lord for my almost year experience from Griffin Health, their psych hospitals, and mental health IOP treatment. Helped me get sober and get better.

I’m grateful for my bunny son and the joy he brings to my life. Mr. Jhonni Root-Canal Zih

I’m grateful to the Lord for my amazing, super-star and strong Aunt Susan!

Lastly, I’m grateful to the Lord for my Broski Vic. He means the world to me. He edifies true friendship, displays loyalty and honesty, and lives with integrity, self-discipline, and self-confidence. Love you, Broski!!!

I’m grateful to all my readers and subscribers to my blog. Thank you for listening, reading, and commenting. Please know I speak truth to power, will always give you an honest story, and leave off every post with positivity and spirituality.

I cannot forget to mention that I am grateful for Jesus and the passionate sacrifice he made for me and those who choose to believe or not.

Blessings,

Xih-Zih

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Aunt Susan! I love you!!!!!!

2 Apr 2025

Journal Style!

Dear Aunt Susan,

I wanted the world to know how you chose to love me and be my aunt for 9 years. There is no color barrier with you. There is no alternative motive with you. I love you with all my heart. You give me hope, peace, and belief in my future.

Family does not need to be blood relatives. You love me because I don’t know, but I don’t question your authenticity. You understand me mentally, personally, and academically.

I pray you look in the mirror and know you are changing lives. You speak for the marginalized, and you’re an advocate for the community. You support me as your trans nephew when people have let me go. You accept me as a gay man, and I can’t wait for the day you walk me down the aisle. I can’t wait to graduate as a pastor and see you in the rows at graduation.

You’ve raised an amazing son with a heart of gold. A young man carrying your soul and spirit. I love sending you chain texts. Because I don’t want you to forget that I love you for one day. I pray for you often for joy, happiness, and peace. You’ve given me an uncle and an amazing cousin.

You’ve impacted me so much that my first daughter will be named after you. Your impact and legacy will live beyond your years. Now you are a little cooky, funny, random, and bizarre. But this is what makes you amazing. You work within the LGBTQI+ mental health community, changing lives individually. Making people feel heard and loved. Thank-you!!!

I’m in tears writing this because I can’t accurately say the impact you’ve had on my life and the help in spirit and soul you have had. When people who said they loved me abandoned me, you chose to love me and said you’d do it again.

This is our 9-year anniversary, and I’m just in awe! Thank you for being the human that you are. You may not profess to be a Christian, but you’re more of a Christian than those who profess to be.

I’m a pain, and you love me. I’m stubborn, and you love me. You saw my heart when I had given up. You sound a lot like Jesus, my savior. Please be kind, gentle, loving , and self-validating as the person you are. You’re amazing. You’re outstanding. You’re mind-blowingly funny. You’re a jewel to the world!

Blessings and peace be unto you,

Nephew Xih-Zih.

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U don’t f’n know me!

29 Mar 2025

Truth & Foster Care

I came from the ghetto where my mother was on welfare; we only ate during the school year, and on summer days, all we had was spaghetti.

I came serving rape, molestation, and beatings till I was bleeding by my own mother, her 47-year boyfriend, and twin brother.

I came from poverty, where we boiled water and washed clothes in the bathroom tub.

I came from hand-down clothes because we couldn’t afford clothes.

I came from owning a corner store for 50 cents because I couldn’t afford water or juice.

Before you look down on me, ask me my story!

I survived foster care, leaving my mom at 8 years old, never to live with her again. I never knew what my brother looked like in the morning. To never see him again in my life. Oh, Big Brother, I love you!

I came from beatings in foster care by my grandmother. The one I called my best friend. I came from my family telling me I deserved to be raped. I’m the fault that my mother doesn’t love me. I’m dirty and to wash my face with bleach.

I am plagued with bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, ADHD, bpd, autism, fibromyalgia, and spinal stenosis. I’m 70% blind, and you look down on me.

My foster mom gave me up. I was told by social workers I was unadoptable; I was unloveable.

I helped raise a 5-year-old till he was 15 and had to answer questions such as “Why doesn’t grandma and auntie love you?”

I came from a church that idolized me, but when I announced I was gay and later transgender, they forsaken me. People who called me family let me go.

I was broke, hungry, and dirty. I took needles out of the drug user’s arms. I was raped and told by detectives trans men can’t be raped. I was without a bed for two years, sleeping on the floor in an apartment building where rats and mice were biting my bunny and me. I started to sleep in my computer chair while being an undergraduate student online, graduating with honors. I applied for the scholarships. I got the loans, but no one helped me.

I take 10 medications to control my mental health, and I have to have an injection every 3 months to control my schizophrenia. I have been hospitalized over 100 times and about 20 for suicide attempts. Do you know what it is like to see things other people can’t see, to hear demons that others can’t hear, and to feel bugs on your skin that people can’t feel to the point I’m scratching off my skin! I have cut marks from cutting myself. You don’t know me!

I kept my faith in Jesus while sleeping on the beach and bathing in the ocean. I came from a fake sister who threatened me and couldn’t and wouldn’t accept me as a man when I was homeless in North Carolina. I came from that.

I came from guns being put in my face because I saw a drug deal, and if I told, I was good as dead.

Yeah, I’m on Social Security. Yes, I cannot work now. Yes, I’m on food stamps! But I did! I live in public housing; yes, I do! I sleep in a twin bed. I wash my clothes in a portable washer and mini dryer because I cannot afford to do laundry.

During COVID-19, I saved my birth mom’s life only four 4 years later; she told me you might as well die. I choose men over you. My brother, my love, threatened to kill me. So he fled to Chicago. Never to be seen again.

My grandma died, and I was deemed homeless. I went to her funeral and saw her in the casket and then was forced to leave because I couldn’t afford the fancy funeral clothes. I am gay and transgender, and that’s not allowed in the church. To this day, my family will not tell me where she is buried.

I have not seen or heard from the child I helped raise in 8 years. I didn’t receive one hug during COVID. I just had Jesus and my bunny. I graduated from a Christian college, but because I was queer and trans, I was not allowed to graduate.

Just last week, I was raped analy by a man I once loved. You don’t know me. You don’t!

The home I have now is safe. I can sleep at night. I have insurance and income. I may not have a family, but I have an Aunt, Sue, and the ECV family, who have changed my life and love me without judgment or question.

I’m in graduate school on scholarships, studying to be a pastor. I don’t have Thanksgiving with a family. I have not had a Christmas since I was 17. I’m 33. I celebrate Kwanzaa by myself. I hold back tears and cry on my pillow. My apartment may not be your house, I may not have a husband or kids. But I have my sanity. I have Jesus. I have a family. I have my aunty Sue! I am God’s beloved.

I will own a house. I will have my 3 daughters. I will find the man of my dreams. I will pastor a church. I will start scholarships. I will be a philanthropist while graduating with a Ph.D. I will have a backyard for my bunny to play in. I will not kill myself!

I will preach the Gospel all over the world and travel to countries. My latter days will be better than my former days.

You can look down on me now, but soon you’ll be looking up!

Peace Out,

Xih-Zih

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Caroline, oh Caroline

29 Mar 2025

Being African American, My Story, Journal Style!, Truth & Foster Care

Dear Ex Foster Mom and teacher,

From day one, I was your black child. An accolade for you to add to your resume. I told you on day one, “I am broken and did not deserve a family.” Yet, you took me in. In that, I say thank you. You helped me get a passport and travel overseas. You bought me food, but that was at the hands of the state welfare system. You and your wonderful family reminded me of where
I stood.

My story didn’t matter. You saw yourself above the abuse of my biological family. However, in the worst of times, the Dickeys never kicked me out and left me for dead. The Dickeys fight and argue and have been strange; however, blood is thicker than water when the fight happens.

I was never your child. I was money for you to pay Debbie as a house cleaner. You should limit me to my allowance of $120 a month while you pay your better children’s credit cards, college tuition, and even graduate school.

When I was able to get a license, you said no because I couldn’t afford insurance, but that was never the problem for your birthed ones. I was asked to walk the dog when I said “no.” Asked “why.” I replied, “I didn’t ask for a dog”, and was told, “I didn’t ask for a foster sibling”

The day you told me, “I was tired.” I should have known you were fickle. Your love fades. My former foster father lost his job or quit, and I was earning a little income from Starbucks. You wanted me to pay rent when your perfect children lived free.

I had a 5k refund, and you told me to rent a room. You got rid of me at age 19 when I had to remind your perfect children of my history. My history’s truth was too much for you.

When you told the hospital that I could not come back, I was deemed homeless. You told me to get a sleeping bag and sleep in the green, and I did. I was almost raped, pulled needles out of druggies arms, and saw the worst of life. I went hungry and developed hypoglycemia. I only had one meal daily in the restaurant I worked in. I slept on my youth pastor’s couch crying every night, thinking I was the evil one and confirming my belief that I break families and am the problem.

In reality, I was a poor black child brought into a white middle-class family of Yale, Smith, and Bank Street family. I didn’t fit in. Not only by the color of my skin.

My life changed when I was welcomed into my Continuum of Care family. You were happy because I was no longer your burden, and you could continue to live your rich white life.

Out of sympathy and maybe guilt, you bought me groceries and took me to dinner. I still knew you were fickle. In Nov 2014, I was approved for Social Security, and you were my payee. Instead of giving me my money, you told me to eat at a shelter when I finally had an increase. I removed you as my payee, and I gained an increase. When I worked for Perfect Care and I had to pay rent and bills, money was thin, you would send me $100 on Venmo. First, you would put a heart emoji and the name “Bank.” When I got a 6k refund check, you reminded me of all the transactions you had given me and made me repay you $600. I knew you were fickle.

I apologize and apologized. I hadn’t been hospitalized in 6 years and wasn’t invited for Christmas, Thanksgiving, or anything. Nothing would let me see the only one who loved me, the closest person I had to a dad; I knew I would never see him again.

I lived in a hell hole where there were mice, rats, drugs, guns, and sex in the elevators, and I didn’t have a bed. I asked you to buy me a sleeping bag and help me with my bunny. And you did. But while you slept in a bed, and your family was comforted, I slept with mice and rats bitting at my feet. For two years, I slept in a computer chair.

When God decided to bless me with an amazing apartment in a safe Wooster Square middle-class community, you became spiteful and angry. As if my blackness was only meant for the slums.

As Joesph said in the bible in Genesis 20:20, “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about” that I would save lives, feed the hungry, find a truly loving church home where I received love and acceptance. Save my birth mom during Covid-19. What you meant to destroy me spitefully and vindictively, God used to grow me.

I forgive you. I will always love you. However, the greatest moment of my life was when I said goodbye. We have not spoken in about two years, and God has given me an Aunt Sue, my angel, I have good aunts and uncles, a new father and mother figure, and I am loved. You know, love is based on money and gifts. I know love from God on high. I didn’t need a community to think I was good, upright, and holy. You have a white savior God complex, but when the funds ended, your love ended. It was never really there.

I wish you the best. I wish you success and happiness. I want you to live an old age and see your grandchildren graduate from high school, and I want you to age with grace and have abundant money, love, and happiness.

I truly let you go. After this post, you are just a wound, a scare, and a testimony of how strong my Yahweh is and the better angel within me. I cannot change the past; I accept it as my story.

From Glory to Glory! From Faith to Faith.

Good-bye,

Xih-Zephyrine Ziggy Zih (your ex-black foster child)

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Gratitude! My better Angels

Aunt Susan! I love you!!!!!!

U don’t f’n know me!

Caroline, oh Caroline