Umbrella-carrying pedestrians navigate a rain-soaked Manhattan street alongside taxis and buses.
Hi I’m Xih,
And I’m lonely. I long for a mother who cannot love me with the virtue and passion I love her with. I’m lonely. I attend an amazing church with people I love and who have grown to love me, but will not permit me to minister in their church. The church I call home. Hi, I’m grief! Grieving over the dysfunctional family I had, but since Grandma died, we have all separated. Were we ever together? Hi, I’m anger over the time I’ve lost due to mental health, lack of educational guidance, and not receiving a hug from a Dickey in 4 years.
I have staff that helps me. But I’m grieving the life I once had. If Belmont Street meant me pain for decades when they closed their door, they have done well.
Hi, I’m grateful because every day I experience my intense bipolar filled emotions, and I didn’t use negative vices to handle my pain. I see growth and maturity. Where I would have given up before, I do not anymore.
I have to find grounding within myself, within my faith; I am trying to figure out, within my identity, in my socioeconomics class, in my educational standings; within my Savior. You may not believe in Jesus, but I proudly do. I’m trans and gay, and I’d rather have Jesus than all the silver and gold on earth.
I don’t get hugs, I don’t get kisses; and if I do, it’s from my aunt Sue once a month. I don’t want presents for my birthday; I just ask Jesus to shower me down with rain. Since I can’t get rebaptized, maybe this rain, this water will be Jesus hugging me and cleansing me. Where I can cry in it, and no one can tell the difference between my tears and rain falling from the sky. If it thunders, I can yell, and in lightning I dance. Correct that, I don’t dance; “we dance”. Yes, Jesus and I. We dance. Until the sun goes down and the moon rises, we dance, in the rain, in the snow, during a hurricane, and a blizzard. My father that you cannot see. Sees me. His prized possession, his son. I can see my Great Grandma, my Gramma, Apostle Green, Minister Daniels, Aunt Ruth, Aunt Naomi, Ms. Dixon, and angels I’ve never met on this earth watching and cheering me on. Yell in the stands of heaven as if the Cowboys just won a Super Bowl.
We dance, we sing, we scream, we cry, we laugh, we grieve, yes, my Savior and I.
Loneliness won’t forever define me. Jesus will continue to help and guide me. Jesus will bear the weight equally, my Savior and I.
If I don’t bring it up, please don’t! I’m talking about my weight. I know I’m overweight. I can feel in my bones. I am carrying more than what any 35-year-old should. I am not sure if it’s medications, or what, but I am disgustingly and uncomfortably fat!!! I said so you don’t have to think it in silence. My top surgery isn’t done. My scars are stretching out. I am almost to the goal weight of 200. I lost 48lbs in one year. And I am still heavy. So, before you skinny people, without fibromyalgia, spinal stenosis, and mental health, tell me to just work out, just walk, just drink more water. Shut the hell up!!! I don’t want to hear it. This is what disability, food stamps, and Medicaid look like. I budget every single dollar I have for food, my aunt gives me money for food, and I’m still hungry at the end of the month. I am begging for the scraps while most of you eat like kings and queens and don’t know it. I am grateful for everything I have. But when I can’t play with my new bunny. When I am tired, just after cleaning their hutch. When I am tired just from typing this letter because I have carpal tunnel, please don’t judge me. Don’t lie or sugarcoat things either. My surgeons had the nerve to tell me “to get to 200, and I’ll be ready for surgery, to be the gender I want and feel I am. They look at me and say, not even close, not good enough, another 20 lbs, then I’ll be ready.” He can shut up too!!! This is a damn eating disorder I have. I’m stuck with, and I cannot break, and not one of you is helping. No one offers to go on walks with me. No one offers to bring me to the gym. I sit alone in an apartment, miserable, because I cannot move. Someone, help me before I just lose my cool!!! If you won’t physically do something to help me, then don’t comment on me or suggest anything, okay!!! I can see I’m heavy, I see my t-shirts. I see it!!! I am not asking to be skinny, but I am asking to get healthy.
You have permission to be transgender, non-binary, and whoever you feel as though you are.
You have permission to worship the deity of your choice
You have the right to healthcare and free education for minors and college students
You have permission to not be a statistic and survive out of poverty.
You have permission to be educated
You have to right to run for political office, making your voice heard
You have the right to respect, dignity, integrity, humility, and everything good from your fellow neighbors
You have the right to grow
You have permission to feel whatever emotions you are feeling, and they are all valid
You have permission to live with dignity as a chronically ill person, mentally ill, and physically limited, with access to services to give you a life worth living.
You have permission to be respected.
You have permission to grieve when a life is stolen, when you are hurting; your grief is valid and should be met with empathy.
You have the right to have safe housing
You have permission to raise powerful, world-changing, and history-making children
You have permission to attend a trade school vs. a university because not everyone is meant for school, but all are meant to do well.
Working at Amazon, being a truck driver, being a case manager, CNA, PCA, dumpster truck driver, working in warehouses, and these are worthy and needed jobs.
You have a right to be loved unconditionally and make the family you want to make.
You have permission to explore life and evolve with each experience you encounter, good and bad.
You are free to be gay, straight, lesbians, transgender, intersex, omnisexual, pansexual, asexual, demi sexual, bi sexual, poly, two spirited, black, white, hispanic, indian, brown skin, and free to express your self in drag; you have permission to express your identity and gender expression as fluid as it may be.
You have permission to have sex and experience sexual intimacy, however you feel is right for you
You have permission to be YOU
You have permission to walk in pride in your recovery
YOU are wonderful
YOU are amazing
You are talented
You are beautiful, handsome, and fine as wine
You are a one-of-a-kind, after you, there will never be another you.
You are loved and beloved by God/Jesus
You are spectacular
You are a work of art designed to be unique and worth trillions more than what money can buy.
You are, you don’t be ashamed
Don’t walk with your head low.
Don’t walk oppressed and suppressed
Walk in Power.
Walk in Strength
Walk in confidence
Walk in integrity
Walk with grit and resiliency
Walk in knowing not everyone will like you, but you are you, YOU love you, and are beloved by the universe
Lastly,
I give you permission to live out your God given potential, reaching self-actualization.
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.
My Journey, My Style 