A Former Dragon’s Tale

melted-snowflake:

Here’s the second submitted story. It’s long, but I decided to post it in full because it’s that fascinating. In this story, a former dragon talks about using therianthropy as a coping mechanism and they used the identity to explain any personal flaws. It’s worth checking out. Thank you for submitting! — Melted-Snowflake

[TW for abuse, self-harm, and embarrassing delusions]

When I was about 15 or so I stumbled upon the online otherkin community (although most of the parts I frequented tended to prefer the term ‘therianthropy’ or ‘furry’ at the time—and all of this talk of ‘multiples’ or ‘headmates’ was very rare or nonexistent). Suddenly, the way I imagine it happens for most people at a vulnerable age who feel rejected by ‘normal’ society, it clicked. I had always had a love affair with dragons. I read fantasy books by the shelf-load and sketched wings and talons on all my school notebooks. I had always felt different from my peers, had the most sublime dreams of flying, hunting, and eating like a beast, and connected deeply with more animal ways of thinking and being. This was it. Clearly, I WAS a dragon.

I cringe to admit this now. But at the time it felt so perfect.

My teen years were very, very difficult. I lived with an emotionally and physically abusive father and struggled with self-esteem issues and depression. I was beset by a sudden influx of emotions and situations that I was not prepared to cope with, and began to self-harm to try and make sense of it all or, at the very least, to make myself feel better. I was plagued by insomnia, night terrors, ennui, and a general dissatisfaction with my life.

When I ‘discovered’ my otherkin identity, everything began to change. I began to read about other people who shared my experiences and displeasure with their mundane lives, and were yearning for something more. I spoke to a very close internet friend about my new identity and, after explaining how it was to feel so different from normal human society, we discovered he was also an otherkin! How coincidental! I began to list my personal quirks and foibles in my head and discovered that every single one could somehow be related to being a dragon. Being overweight? I’m used to supporting a massive frame, of course I eat a lot! Being reticent and socially anxious? My species is solitary! The list goes on and on, in big ways and small. I began to relate everything back to being a dragon.

It felt so wonderful to have a community of people who accepted me, even when I expressed these strange, animalistic urges that I didn’t understand. I spent most of my time thinking about being a dragon, feeling my ‘phantom wings’ (yes, us ex-kin felt that too, and we felt it strongly), and wishing I could return to that idyllic state. The few friends I had fell by the wayside when I decided that they weren’t mature enough to handle my true identity. I spent most of my time talking to other otherkin on the internet and trying to draw my kin-type.

There wasn’t some single life event that snapped me out of it. I was a self-professed otherkin for about three or four years before I slowly lost interest, in the same way that a childhood book that once held so much poignant meaning looks childish and weak when you revisit it as an adult. I eventually grew out of my fantasies (even though, at the time, they were so dizzyingly powerful that they seemed the most important part of my life).

It was such a relief to discover I was free of all that exhausting bullshit. It was a burden that was lifted from my shoulders once I realized that all of those strange, alien emotions and behaviours weren’t symptomatic of some trans-species identity; they were a part of me. They were a part of this messy, unpredictable experience we call being human, and now that I don’t waste time dreaming of my powerful dragon body, I have the time and patience to explore them. Shedding my otherkin ‘identity’ meant learning how to cope with my reality. Sometimes that’s frustrating and distasteful, but learning to work through my problems is infinitely more rewarding than chalking it up to “Well I am really a dragon and that is just how we are, we will never really be able to connect with these hoomans.”

My biggest regret during my stint as an otherkin was allowing my friend to believe he was a wolf. He is now 26 and still believes he is a canine trapped in a human body. He has allowed his entire life to stagnate and languish because, instead of working towards school or career or healthy relationships, he is pining away for the lost life he’ll never have. It hurts me, and I am directly responsible.

I still relate strongly to animals. However, I do so in literary ways, artistic ways; I relate to them in metaphorical, healthy ways. I can allude to the running freedom of wolves without actually thinking I AM a wolf. I can spend weeks wondering what it is like to be a whale without coming to the conclusion that it is what I AM.  I can refer to blackbirds as my poetic muse and refer to the feeling of having wings without actually believing that I am some metaphysical accident of biology. And it has made me an incredibly more stable, healthy, happy person to be able to accept every shard of me as natural, without having to foist the blame on some non-existent identity.

To all current otherkin; listen to those little voices at the back of your head. They are always there, no matter how deeply entrenched in the community you’ve become. It can be hard and a little scary to accept yourself as a human— an imperfect, flawed, messy human, but human nonetheless—but I guarantee it is worth it. I felt those pangs too. Those phantom limbs, those desires, those sudden aha! moments of clarity about your species. And I assure you, it feels so, so good to let them all go. 

I’d think that ^ will only happen if people actually allowed their otherkin identities to cause enough ‘dysphoria’ as to result in dysfunction. There are perfectly normal otherkin who are productive and all, simply because of the fact that they recognise it as a part of them, perhaps part of the human experience, and not their entirety. (Heck, there are even otherkin who are living completely average lives who have embraced their humanity, without forgetting their identities as non-human. Cite: http://shadowplayanddemondays.tumblr.com/post/26030184471/true-forms-and-homeworlds-and-such) The result is that it pushes the person into further understanding of him/herself, and doesn’t end up as a fantasy/bubble reality or a coping mechanism to help cope with the anxieties of society.

Otherkinism/theriantrophy is an identity (and a very diverse one at that), and what you choose to do with that identity matters.

http://distilda.tumblr.com/post/25471737205/a-psychological-view-of-things

Sure, otherkinism/theriantrophy might be an extension of the human experience. Why can’t we embrace it like that then? Yes, you’re other, but you are also human.

“Well I am really a dragon and that is just how we are, we will never really be able to connect with these hoomans.” is always going to be fallacious. And even if that stands true, I don’t see why that calls for a need to drop the otherkin identity (which you [the ex-kin] is pushing for.) in its entirety.

I think what needs to be dropped is just the flawed reasoning (as stated in the previous paragraph) that leads to social dysfunction, e.g. using it as an excuse to growl at work, then getting fired for that and -THEN- claiming that society is full of oppression (Cite: some obscure tumblr post that I can’t be bothered to look up.)

Also, ‘Just because you didn’t turn out to be otherkin doesn’t mean everyone else in the world who identify as otherkin aren’t either.’

ON A SLIGHTLY LESS RELATED NOTE:

http://shadowplayanddemondays.tumblr.com/post/26195047259/redemption-of-a-melted-snowflake-a-former-dragons <— this probably works too.