Looks Are Deceiving (April 4, 2018)

With each deleted letter

She typed

On the computer

Her ire does grows

As the bitter flow

Of self-anger

And hatred course

Through her soul

Like a corrosive acid.

Destroying

Whatever self-confidence

And self-esteem

With each recalled

Memory.

Relentlessly teased

And ridiculed

On her writing skills

And spelling ability

By teachers and students.

Labelling her

Slow and lazy

At her incomplete answers

To her assign

Written core work.

And yet

If they asked

The same question

Verbally.

She dazzled them

With her detailed response

To the questions

Before her.

A faint ghost

Of a smile

Graced her face.

In recalling

One particular conversation

With a high school teacher

Regarding her planned

University study.

Questioning her ability

To understand and process

An entirely new language

And grammar system.

The teacher’s words

Waved before her

Like a matador’s cape

Inciting the hurt bull

As it charges forward.

Refusing to believe

Or to listen

To the words

That have boxed her

Inside a protective

But restrictive bubble.

Ironically

The truth is

It was English

And not Russian

That tripped her up.

As she struggled

With the essay

Driven courses.

Earning her dad’s

Undivided pride

And love.

In accepting

From the university president

Her B.A. degree.

Therisa © 2018

Author’s note: For the record, I have been moved in and out of special education classes, starting in the fall of 1975, when I started kindergarten, in a rural southern Ontario village. Until the end of my university classes, in August 1994, when I wrote my last exam to gain my BA, from Carleton University. During the school year of 1983-84, I was officially diagnosed, as having multiple learning disabilities, which affected all aspects of my life. The irony here, is the school officials told my parents, not to share the content of the education assessment with me.

Afraid, I would use it as a justification to slack off, in my studies. Never realizing, the validation that the report gave me, in regards to the earlier report cards and experiences, which scarred me. I wasn’t a lazy student, but one that the school system was failing to meet my educational needs.

If you asked me, what does a typical person with learning disability looks like, I would have to give you, a blank look. As there is no one look physically to describe a person with a learning disability.

For more information about learning disability, please click on the following link: https://ldaamerica.org/types-of-learning-disabilities/

Just Being Me (June 7, 2018)

Throughout the years

You've been my anchor

That's held me

Upright.

During those stormy nights

My body awashed

Against the rocky shores

Of life.

When Death stood

By my side

A constant companion

During the dark years.

Where gender identity

Is a littered battleground

With too many bodies stolen

Before their time.

As baby blue

And passionate pink tears

Flow together

In a bitter white stream.

Want to scream

At the top of my voice

“Fuck you assholes"

To all of society.

But know

Society will never understand

My anger and hurt

I'm releasing.

A body trapped

Between two genders

Never fully one

Or the other.

And yet

You've been

The one

I've sought out.

Knowing

The crippling barriers

Society has erected

Against someone

Like myself.

In transitioning

Like a butterfly

From the cocoon

Of my male pupa.

Therisa © 2018

Author's note: I would like to remind everyone that the “T” in LGBTQ+, stands for transgender, which many people forget. When they talk about issues that affects the entire community, a whole. As if, we’re the forgotten sibling, when talking about equality for all members of the LGBTQ+ community. Please remember this, as your local community celebrates PRIDE.

In The Hanging Garden (January 28, 2018)

Casted adrift

Into a sea of darkness

Without any sense of direction

Or reason

Why.

Searching for a past

Long buried

In hate and ignorance

Of being different.

A minority sublimated

By the majority

Without questioning

Why.

Lost of self-identity

Imposed denial

Cultural genocide

That consumes

One's soul.

Regardless

Of one's inner strength

No one is asking

Why.

Where death is

Often seen

As the only solution

For life's injustices.

And yet

Are reluctant to change

Without wondering

Why.

Where one's greed

And self-agenda

Are often measured

In the lives lost.

Therisa © 2018

Author's note: Just some thoughts that have been floating in my head.

The Urge To Purge (August 14, 2016)

As I look

My body over

An anger fills me.

At the cruel twist

Of fate.

I have been forced

To endure

Over my lifetime.

Knowing

I'm trapped

Within the wrong gender

And powerless

To change it.

Even though

Modern medicine 

Has advance

To the point.

Of giving me

A feminine appearing

Body.

Stopping short

Of a truly feminine body

Able to give birth

With a female reproductive

System.

Fighting

The very thoughts

That would end

My life.

By 

Permanently removing

My male genitalia.

As these depressive thoughts

Threaten

To overwhelm me

With the need 

To act out

And make this

My new reality.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Wish, I could say, these feeling of self hatred towards my biological body, weren't so intense, that I want to self-harm myself, in correcting the disconnect, between the physical image that I present to the world, and the mental image, i have, of myself. And yes, like my chronic depression, these thoughts of self-harming are cyclical, in nature. Never aware, when they will arise and overcome me. 

To date, I have manage to contain these thoughts, but do know, the day will come, when I will be powerless to stop them, from happening. I have told my medical team, about these thoughts, and they're monitoring me, to see, if they get any worse.