annedisabled

Hello, my name is Anne. I mean, I'm not asking you to call me Anne, and it's sure as hell not the name on my birth certificate either, but right now Anne's kinda at the wheel and I'm okay with that, so I'm Anne. It makes this easier, and that's what matters. I'm probably hard to offend in this regard, personally, though I promise I am far more invested in the specifics when it comes to others. That's kind of why this has come up.
A year and a half ago, I never would have called myself Anne. The specifics of my identity at the time are hard to sum up, but would not be unfamiliar territory for many. At that time I was 34.
I am a spouse and parent, AMAB, politically left and probably a bit radical, accustomed to being poor, and putting off the elephant in the room. I'm disabled.
Coming out with a mental disability is probably a bit like coming out as a sexual- or gender minority. Some of the same reactions apply. "Have you tried just being normal?" "Oh no you aren't." "Maybe you're just confused." "You shouldn't label yourself." That sort of thing.