One night, I retired to bed as an unbalanced person. For weeks, a reinvigorated personality was emerging, along with a renewed purpose of being. Thoughts raced and conflicting streams of consciousness tried to ruin the narrative of the transformation of a once broken and lost human being. But as is the case when one truly puts mind over matter in a last-ditch effort to find one’s true self, the wait, the struggle, and the raging battles within are simply steppingstones. On the other side of the roaring rapids is the rewards of a glorious transition into a freer, truer self.

For years, a young woman’s voice was screaming deep within. On the outside, to eyes untrained in the honest truth, I was a confused young person. No one could comprehend the endless conflict between the two spirits at war in my prepubescent mind. The body, mind, and spirit, though, for one brief moment at the tender and formative age of eleven, saw a glimpse into the distant future and saw the face of a goddess. Little did this sweet, young effeminate child know she was not to fully reveal herself for over two decades. A corrupt, evil world had different plans for her.

For weeks during the Covid pandemic, I’d battled endlessly to force a transformation from a suicidal, heartbroken, pathetic facade of a former wage earner into the true Phoenix I was intended to be. From the split second my soul was conceived from stardust, my purpose was clear in the Divine Mind; sadly, it would be obscured from me for decades. No longer would I be the rambling fool my family and friends came to know. After all, I was never truly a fool, but rather one without a clear purpose who did foolish things in trying to find renewal and belonging.

But one August day, well before the sunrise, I awoke with my life’s purpose renewed. In the wee hours of that mid-August Friday morning, the last vestiges of the lie I’d lived as a firstborn child who lived only to fulfill misguided and limiting expectations had finally melted away. Never before did my mind, body, and spirit finally work in harmony towards a timeless goal, to see the true face of the woman who I was meant to be.

By that, I do not mean the face that others see when they behold my awkward body, ravaged by both a six-month long battle with cancer and chemotherapy, as well unfortunate results of an improperly handled hormonal imbalance during my teen years. I mean the true face of the being of Light our mortal shells contain. Our bodies are but vessels that serve us through this indeterminate campaign that we human beings call the days of our lives, likely our only existence we’ll each ever enjoy.

When you come face-to-face with your own mortality, if you don’t find renewed purpose in that struggle for your continued existence, you instead drift for an indeterminate time. After barely surviving my cancer battle, for the next five years, I worked to build a new life, complete with the family and responsibilities I meant to be my anchor. Instead, I found nothing but hardship and misery. All that I learned was that the life I travelled thousands of miles away to lead was yet another lie borne of the misguided hopes and expectations of others.

Even with this renewed purpose for my being, the shell containing this beautiful mind and infinite resolve would appear nearly identical to the one who retired to her room the night before. Those closest to me still would see the broken person they thought they knew so well. In reality, that wonderful soul who shared their dwelling and lives for the better part of three decades was now reborn, forged in the fire and flames of the trials of our cruel and disassociated world.

But then, why did I become so misunderstood and miscast in the first place? As it happens, genetic glitches caused me to be born with a nonbinary nature. My very being was long seen as something quirky I would outgrow at some point. Yet, I embraced embodying both genders as a child. I saw my nature as a gift that no one should take away from me. Unfortunately, a horrible trial known as puberty resolved to force me into a box. It was a prison sentence worse than most cisgender people can hardly imagine. 

My mind and spirit were that of a woman about to blossom into a goddess. Yet, my body forced me to live over two decades as an awkward and flamboyantly queer individual trying her best to play the opposite role society forced her to play. My life’s purpose was being defined by those who didn’t truly understand the individual I was born to be and was still in the process of becoming.

In the end, after an intense forty plus days on a journey of self-discovery, my true spirit would emerge victoriously. Once thought of as a mere invention of a lonely only child, little Amelia, blessed by Grace at age four and set to trials of ice and fire at age eleven, would finally be realized. No longer would she serve that undeserved sentence which the corrupted physical world had tried so hard to shackle her with so mercilessly.

No longer a lost lamb of the middle class, clarity finally appeared before the lovely long-starving artist. It shone as a beacon of hope long awaited, bringing peace long overdue. For once, my true voice would finally speak, unimpeded by the abuse, brainwashing, and condescension my enemies had used to impair me to my wit’s end. While these evils nearly lead me to end my life in a spectacular and tragic failure, I was brave and stubborn enough to survive, however barely.

In this moment of newfound strength, I faced my demons head-on and through sheer willpower I silenced them. Then in the wake of overcoming them, I heard angels sing. As much as sin and evil plague this world, I resolved with renewed vigor to be the Lightbringer my Creator intended me to be. My renewed purpose was now clear.

So, for the first time in thirty-three years, three months, six days, and a few odd hours, the true Child would finally speak her True Name. Amelia Phoenix Desertsong! It was far past due time for me to be free. Alongside the love of my life, I would rise from the ashes of a shattered and decimated life so I can share the stories of my trials with the world.

Bless y’all! And for those who continue to doubt and even shame me, so long, and thanks for all the fish!

~ Amelia Phoenix Desertsong (aka Artemis)

P.S. Thanks to Douglas Adams for that outro bit!

P.P.S. A version of this essay appears in my short essay collection, Cloud Pieces.