Your Low-Stress Guide to Leveling-Up Your Bedtime Routine
Are You Burnt Out or Depressed?
In 2017, at age 23, I moved to New York City following my graduation from college.
In 2019, in between extended hospital stays and medical procedures, I realized I was non-binary.
As the coronavirus pandemic emerged in 2020, my isolation only became more pronounced.
I felt as though I was re-entering the world as a completely different person.
Even more frightening was the possibility that they might not like who I was now.
clinical psychologist
Over time, however, this seemed to do more harm than good.
It became clear that while they could sympathize, none of my friends could fully understand my experience.
This disconnect made me anxious because I had always judged my progress in life through my connections with others.
A few months into these post-quarantine reunions, I grew discouraged and slowly began to see my friends less.
I opened the app a few hours later and was met with an influx of messages.
Overwhelmed, I switched to scrolling down the Lex social feed instead.
They replied back, hi tired gay, how tired are u today 1-10.
We quickly graduated to texting, and I found we had a lot in common.
It was the most at ease Id felt with another person in years.
clinical psychologist
With them, I didnt feel the need to information-dump.
At first, I thought this was because we shared so many experiences.
Gender dysphoria always creeps up on you.
I didnt feel pressured to explain to make it be understood; I just was.
With time, I realized my comfort with Jac stretched beyond our similar identities.
Last New Years Eve, Jac and I decided to hang out at their house.
Over a meal, we started discussing how the pandemic had limited our social lives.
I know who I am, and thats enough.
I realized that the way we were talking about pandemic boundaries should be the way I approach friendships.
I know who I am, and thats enough.
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