“Okay Robin, What makes you Happy?” I asked myself, probably sitting at a coffee shop much like this one, with my pen poised over my “Self-Love Workbook” /Planner and spending too much on coffee to stay awake.  The problem was, as someone with long-time depression, trauma, ETC, it was a much harder question to answer than I first hoped.

Okay then– if “happiness” isn’t working for me– or at least isn’t something I can conceptualize at this moment– what else is there?

Coming home to a dirty apartment for the last time, I got sick of it.  I cleaned all the messiest (still unpacked) boxes and unintended storage spaces I could while my cat ran in a perturbed confusion around the living room.

Laying in bed, I felt the presence of that one trickster god again– the one I had recently told to go away– of no further impetus of his own, but because I remembered or un-buried some trauma attached to a thing he did and has long since apologized for…

Sitting at the end of my bed, he waited for me to send him away.

I didn’t.  Instead I said, “I’m afraid of you.”   Quietly, he responded.

“I’m sorry I broke your trust.”

“I know,” I said, “Some part of me is afraid of you… and some part of me that isn’t afraid of you loves you.”

“Do you know what part of you isn’t afraid of me?” he asked.

I reached inside for an answer: A pure, bright, light part of me. A small star inside me, shining heat-less and calm.

A part of me I imagined in astral vision as if it was Baldur… Or a connection to Source. A connection to the eternal, ethereal force of complete acceptance.

“I love that part of you, too.”

Hitting two balls of thin, soft yarn together animatedly with my hands, I chattered in a room full of lazy, tired queer boys lounging in overlapping sprawls.

To my credit– I was invited.

“I want to connect with feminine queer culture– feminist punk and anarchist sustainability and care work of femmes– by femmes– for femmes!” I said.

“…. And I want to go on testosterone to affirm my nonbinary gender– and to fuck the gender binary– and to feel in my body the Temperance and mixture and complete wholeness of gendered concept I feel in my heart! The softness and strength– the ferocity and the gentleness, the power and the carefulness, the love and the … LOVE. The love of myself and the love of all others–!!

“…. Do you think queer women will want to date me if I do that??”

Rolling his eyes, my friend exhaled an exasperated, “Robin…. YES.”

“Oh…” I said, slowly starting to realize it was me holding myself back the whole time…

“Queer women are pretty smart. You know, as a general rule,” one of the other boys chimed in, not looking up from his phone.


My friend, actually far more supportive than annoyed with me gave me his best facial approximation of  “You are valid,” and returned his sleepy attention to the boy closest to him as the conversation shifted.


See– what I’ve taken form these moments is that– I need to be fully myself, without fear, in order for the happiness to appear. SO if the happiness isn’t getting through, I have to ask myself,

“How can I create more autonomy in my actions– and confidence in myself to perform those actions– to create my life the way I want it?”

“What am I afraid of? And is it worth losing sight of myself to be safe (but fearful) in the known? Or can I peel back the masks that are keeping me from catching a glimpse of my own desire? My own true self?”

This is an ongoing process.

— Robin
Of The Heart Road

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