For those of us who have grown up as siblings of individuals with disabilities with high support needs, it can feel strange (or even wrong) to acknowledge the complexity of that experience. Many of us carry deep care and fierce loyalty toward our siblings, but also feelings of confusion, frustration, sadness, or loss. These emotions can be hard to name, especially in an ableist world that continually devalues disabled lives.

For the next four years or so I became stiffened and afraid to do things that might compromise my body’s integrity. My mind fixated on the faintest of sensations rising in my gut, my throat, my chest… It only took a few moments of poking and examining myself to succumb to yet another panic attack. I began to feel sore in the places I’d continually examined and this only further contributed to the notion that my body was a time bomb ticking its way toward disintegration. It was utterly exhausting, but it bled into the interpersonal realm as well.

I’ve written up until now about how this impacted my mental health on an individual level but that doesn’t tell the full story and it isn’t the whole story when it comes to health anxiety. You see, after months of doctors visits and emergency room trips in the hopes of gaining clarity on what was so wrong with me, I had to face the realization that, physically at least, I wasn’t in such a dire state as I’d come to believe.

Over the last few months I’ve struggled to decide whether I wanted to add anything to the very public and politicized discourse on transness, our existence, and our rights. Even now, I have doubts – what could I even say that hasn’t already been said? Is it right to take up space when people are being ruthlessly abducted and deported, when hospitals are being bombed in an ongoing genocide, when the climate crisis threatens the sustainability of any life here? 

If anyone is reading this, then clearly I’ve decided to go ahead and write this. Because silence and withdrawal don’t do anything for anyone. Because making myself small while having the privileges I have would make me complicit with the anti-trans agenda that denies our existence. And, because if this reaches even one person in a meaningful way, then it’s worth it.