Elis de Guerre

Elis de Guerre

Bio

Mx. Elis de Guerre is an androgyne writer, editor, and activist specializing in mental health, addiction, and trauma. They have written online copy for rehab centers, and essays, narrative nonfiction, and journalism for multiple online and print publications. They are currently working on a manuscript about complex post-traumatic stress disorder and addiction, and they are affiliated with Active Minds, the Mental Health America Advocacy Network, the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), the National Association of Memoir Writers, the Nonfiction Authors Association, No Stigmas, and the One Love Foundation. You can also find them on Medium.

Elis de Guerre Articles

If I stop taking my medications, what will my life become? (Image: Thinkstock)

I Have A Mental Illness; Should I Have Children?

I live with bipolar II disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, ADHD, and complex PTSD. I take Effexor, Klonopin, Depakote, and Adderall. I knew I needed to talk to my psychiatrist about what changes I’d need to make before we could try to have a baby. The chances that none of these medications would affect a growing fetus was impossible in my mind. But I never expected what Dr. G told me.

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I have a name, you know.

The Not-So-Subtle Sexism Of The Service Industry

My jeans are tight, and show off the curve of my ass. My black shirts are fitted, sometimes low cut, but always flattering to my figure. The only thing that isn't crafted to maximize my appearance are my non-slip shoes. Otherwise, I have to look pretty. Pretty girls get better tips.

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Keeping him to yourself might be worth it.

Lesson Learned: Why I'm No Longer Sharing My Boyfriend On Social Media 

In the past four months, I’ve undergone a veritable dating hurricane. I ran out on my 10-month-old marriage in August. I texted my decision and departure to my closest friends, live-tweeted my flight from upstate New York to the New Hampshire seacoast, and have written extensively and publicly about separation, my estranged husband, and the terrors of emotional pain ever since.

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Image Credit: Mcrfan343 - DeviantArt

How I Used Stephen King To Silence My Inner Critic

Everyone has their inner critic, the voice in your head that whispers all manner of terrible things:

You look fat in that outfit.

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My hair is gone. My make-up is strong.

What Happened When I Rejected Traditional Femininity

I can feel proud of my cleavage and my combat boots. I feel fierce in drop-crotch sweatpants and preppy sweaters. I carry my edge with me and, with it, my own brand of femininity. Best of all, I consult no one but my own eyes. I don’t ask permission. I don’t seek what’s in fashion.

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Divorce.

A Letter From The Trenches Of My Impending Divorce

I am 27 years old, 10 months into my marriage, and have been separated from my husband for two weeks. Consider this a letter from the trenches of impending divorce.

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I know which path to follow, and it’s led me to empathy for others.

How Mental Illness Has Made My Life Better

It’s a strange day to be writing about how my mental illnesses have made my life better.

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Aaron Wiseman created the most beautiful alphabet soup Twitter party for us, and it's raging hard.

#LGBTBabes Is Our New Favorite Trending Hashtag

Let the #LGBTBabes party rage on, my fellow rainbow darlings. You're beautiful. You're supported. You're loved. And you're perfect just as you are.

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Believe me when I say that I know depression.

What 'Depression' Actually Means (Because Some Of You Don't Know)

[CN: suicidal thoughts, self-harm] Why is it OK to minimize the symptoms of a serious, debilitating, chronic condition with no cure just because it’s mental, not physical?

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The upside of some serious lows... (Image Credit: Unsplash)

Can I Be Thankful For My Mental Illness?

t interests me that I can immediately think of the gifts of anxiety, panic, and even my spurts of agoraphobia. Being tense in body and mind, living with fear that feels real even though I know intellectually it isn’t, experiencing the migraines, chest pains and choking sensations — these aren’t things that lend themselves to my happiness.
Yet the compulsion to stay at home, brought on by edginess and unease outside, keeps me productive. Anxiety makes me communicative, even if just through electronic means. The worry about judgment pushes me to write better, to edit more thoroughly, to answer the voice in my head saying “You’re not good enough” with a defiant “Then watch me improve.”

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