When I first began intentionally sitting in stillness to meditate, I remember one of my teachers saying, "When you find a consistent meditation practice, eventually something shifts. You don't meditate. You are meditation." I always speak from my own experience. So for me, this became true. It is my natural state to observe. Even as a kid, I felt comfort in watching before doing. I observed my peers and the world around me with ease. The challenge was finding comfort in observing myself.

There was always a small voice that would try to guide me back to myself. Often, I chose not to listen to that voice. I cared a lot about what people thought of me. And growing up in a small town where everyone knew each other even if they didn't want to be known, I was terrified to entertain the idea of figuring out who I am. It was a no-go zone.

The voice that I did listen to was harsh, judgmental. One day while I worked in my hometown library, I came across a new young adult book called Ash by Malinda Lo. As I read the inside cover, I noticed feeling intrigued. I was a huge fan of fairytale retellings, twisted tales of the sort. This was the first where the protagonist was queer. In fact, this was my first exposure ever to anything that was queer and positive. Just as quickly as the intrigue appeared, so too did that voice. There was no freaking way that I could borrow this book. What if my family saw it? What if my peers caught a whiff of me reading about lesbians? They picked up on the gay trail like ravenous, snarling dogs and tore their prey to shreds with hate and ignorance.

And yet, I kept returning to the book. Once I shelved it, I would find ways to come back. I shelf read the young adult section often; it was how I found many of my favorites. Plus, communing with solely books for an hour or so? Heck yes. So, whenever I was in that back room organizing and alphabetizing books, I would sneak glances of the pages. Close the book quickly if I heard nearby footsteps, then return when it was safe. Those moments were the opening, the start, of understanding.

Flash forward to spring of 2020. I returned to my yoga practice in a deeper way, thanks to the COVID pandemic and shutdown. The Divine granted me space, something that I didn't know that I needed. As I found solace in my practice, I slowly began to uncover the layers of judgment, fear, and shame that had constricted me. There was space to reflect on my childhood. There was time to go through my old drawings and toys. Back when I was in fourth grade, I had drawn a picture of myself with a line of symmetry cutting through my body. On the left side, my hair was down and I wore a ballgown. On the right side, I had a short ponytail, softball glove in my hand with pants on. Underneath, I wrote: "I'm a girl, but I'm a boy too." When I looked at what I had created, the small voice sang louder. I was onto something that had been buried deep down. Then came the memories of wanting, so badly, to shave my legs in fourth grade. Of wanting to wear bras. Of obsessing over when my period would start. I never knew why. I never thought to try and understand why. And then it came into the light of my consciousness: all of these things are what society marks as "being a woman." Little Lindsey believed that if she went through all of these experiences, she would finally feel like a girl. Because the truth? I have never felt like one. Despite my love of princesses and dresses at the time, there was a disconnect. There was a feeling of forcing myself into a box and wanting, so desperately, to fit.

Clarity was there, then came discomfort. I didn't feel like a woman but I also didn't feel like a man. Fourth grade Lindsey didn't have words to describe it, but there was something there. I felt...more. I felt all of it. But why call it "feminine" or "masculine"? Why can't I just be me?

As I willingly waded into the waters of confusion and inner turmoil, yoga and books helped me float. I sat with how I felt and tried to detach from all of the identities I held onto for so long. I snuck into the library (the same library where I was now the children's librarian) and borrowed the books that I had been so afraid of. Slowly, the words of those who had similar experiences pulled me out of feeling confused. I now had what I needed: validation that I was not alone in feeling what I felt. I could be both. I could be genderqueer.

Both yoga and the practice of meditation are why I feel free to be myself. I learned (and still learn) how to give myself space to explore what it means to be me. I liberate myself again and again in merely observing who I am in the present moment. In June especially, I love reflecting on my gender identity journey. Like life, this journey is ongoing. Like all of us, gender identity is impermanent if you allow it to be. You can still identify as cisgender (being the same gender as the sex you were assigned at birth) while exploring what that means to you. When I first began my own journey, I felt like I was both a woman and a man. Now, I see myself as neither. I connect deeply with Nature and resonate with being me, just as dragonflies are dragonflies and hawks are hawks. They don't identify with a gender; they just are. When it comes to labels (which I struggle with, since labels are what we humans love to attach to), I identify as non-binary. Right now, my pronouns are they/them/theirs.

I have found these answers within myself by turning to that once small voice. It is now strong, confident. One of the many beauties in us is that we all have this voice. Whether you choose to quiet the mind and listen is entirely yours. You might notice feeling fear when you do, and that is okay. Fear comes when we have an opportunity to grow. Bravery is when we choose to grow in the face of fear. When I share my gender identity with someone, I still notice some fear. It is not easy for me to be seen as I am. It is challenging to feel another's discomfort because they don't understand. When it comes to being a loving, compassionate, supportive person, you don't have to fully understand. You can ask questions and honor someone as they are without experiencing what they do. You can read books or listen to podcasts and broaden your perspective. Through all of this, you are coming back to yourself.

Often in this world, many people who identify as non-binary experience sensations known as 'gender dysphoria' and 'gender euphoria'. I was inspired by Maia Kobabe to share a brief list of experiences where I have felt these, and what they have felt like to me.

*Remember that everyone's gender journey is different! One gender identity does not fit all. The best way to understand someone is by asking them in a safe, respectful way.*

Gender dysphoria - a feeling of discomfort, distress, or even pain someone may have when their gender identity does not match their assigned sex at birth

Moments where I have experienced gender dysphoria:

*Being called "girl," "woman," "lady" , or when someone uses "she," "her," etc. to describe me

I feel a numbness when this happens. I think it is a form of disassociation, a detached feeling; I know the person is talking about me, but I don't feel like I am being addressed.

When it comes from someone who knows me, or a loved one, I experience mild physical pain. Like someone is picking at me with those small needles that have colored dots on the ends. I typically react by flinching, or clenching my body.

Because I have learned to be okay with discomfort, I don't always tell someone my pronouns or how I identify. I am still in a place where I share who I am with people I trust and feel safe to have that conversation with. There are many of my loved ones who do not know. For now, I am okay with that.

*Being called "Mrs."

This was something that I had not thought about when shifting into the identity of being a married person. I experience the same numbness as when someone calls me a girl and so forth. After playing around and noticing how I felt for each title, I love being referred to as M. Haantrella. (:

*Wearing under-wire bras, bathing suit tops, or anything that makes my boobs stand out

This used to be a feeling of self-loathing. I hate that it is not socially acceptable for me to be topless when I want to be, so I would hate my body. I still feel this way towards society, though I have grown to find softness in how my body looks. I do feel a twinge of discomfort when looking at my breasts.

*Wearing leggings or things that are labeled as "feminine" or "what women wear" in society

Or really any clothing that is fitting and hugs to my body. I do not like feeling people looking at my body. I do not like how people assume gender just by looking at someone. I do not like the feeling of objectification. All of this used to evoke feelings of dirtiness and shame, while also literally putting separation between myself and my body. It was easier to feel ashamed because I did not feel safe in my body. I did not connect, or really want to connect, with my body because of the pain that it caused me. Now, in growing comfortable with my body and gender identity, I can shield myself from unwanted stares and boundaries being crossed and still feel safe in my own body.

*Shaving my legs

I used to love the feeling of my smooth legs. Last October, I stopped shaving there because I noticed myself not caring about if I did or didn't. Last week, I trimmed my legs to wear a short dress and experienced intense sadness. I felt like I was mourning, which I know for some people might sound ridiculous, but it is my Truth. I don't always understand why I feel what I do, I simply allow myself to feel it. This feeling may change as I change in each moment.

*When my hair or nails get too long

This is a feeling of distress. Like my body is becoming something I am not, and I have do to something FAST to fix it. Through meditation, I have learned to sit with discomfort and be okay in it. I don't necessarily give in to the need to act in the moment, I just know that I want to change how I look and trust that I will. For the feeling of coming back to myself is worth the discomfort.

Now, on the flip side, I am okay sitting in my discomfort. This means that right now, I feel more okay with being uncomfortable when someone assumes my gender than telling them otherwise. This depends on the person, as I truly enjoy talking about my experience with someone who respects me. I recognize this as a tendency to people-please, as I have learned to sit in my own discomfort, distress, or pain so that someone else doesn't have to experience it. It is certainly a journey.

Gender euphoria - a feeling of happiness, joy, or contentment someone experiences when their gender identity aligns with how they express themselves or are perceived by other people

Moments where I have experienced gender euphoria:

*When I realized that I could wear whatever the heck I wanted in everyday life

As I said, I was a children's librarian at the time of the shutdown. Often, my choice of clothes were dresses, slim-fitting pants and a blouse. I love comfy, loose-fitting dresses. I love how freeing I feel, I love how I can wear flannels to cover up. The not-so-freeing feels come when people assume that I am a woman because I am wearing a dress. So wearing clothes felt literally like putting on a mask. I felt far away from myself for the sake of "fitting in" to society.

Once I was no longer in the public eye, I started to wear sweatpants more. Or baggy shorts. I stopped wearing bras and tried looser shirts. I never really identified with clothes being an expression of myself until I noticed feeling utter joy in wearing things that felt like me.

*The first time I gave myself permission to shop in the "men's" clothing area

I was in a store that I frequented often and, as always, I was striking out in the "women's" department. I often feel depressed when I limit myself. In turn, I often feel depressed when I am clothes shopping for myself. On this particular day, a thought came in: Why don't you try the other department? So, I did. And it felt AMAZING. It was a whole world opening up to me, even though I had passed by numerous times without another glance. I saw shirts with no low cuts. I found pajama shorts that went to my knees! And...I can wear boxers!!! Now, I also shop wherever the heck I want to. (:

*When I ask for the underside of my head to get buzzed

I feel so light and sexy when my hairdresser buzzes my head. Plus, it feels so soft! There is nothing like feeling the breeze tickle the back of my head. I smile merely thinking about it. In the summertime, I get the underside of my head shaved. It's like I have a little secret to share with everyone once I pull my hair back into a ponytail.

*Reading books with characters who have similar experiences

Have you ever read a book and felt, with deep resonance, that you have felt, thought, or experienced what a character is going through? The first time that I read a book with a nonbinary character, I thought, "Wow, I am not the only person who has felt this way about themselves." And that felt joyous. I was being seen in the book world, a world that I have always known. It is truly magical that we live in a world where ALL people and life experiences are written about and shared. I often read picture books, middle grade, or young adult books with queer or nonbinary characters as a way to heal younger Lindsey.

Thank you for coming on this journey with me. I love giving myself space to pause and reflect on who I was. It is an honor to be able to share my experiences with you. If you ever have questions, or would like book recommendations, or want to share your own experience, please reach out!

Here are some resources to help foster compassion and awareness for the nonbinary experience. Remember: no two experiences are ever alike!

Rider University Library Resource- Nonbinary definition and bibliography

PFLAG blog: Normalize Not Knowing

A4TE resource: Understanding Nonbinary People