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

Photo of Liz Lazzara

The Difficulty Of Making Friends As An Adult ​

Raise your hand if you feel like you want to make new friends as an adult, but have no idea how anymore. Oh, good. It’s not just me.

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“We’ve got to be nice and cool, nice and calm. All right, stay on point, Donald. Stay on point. No sidetracks, Donald. Nice and easy.” (Image Credit: Instagram/donaldtrumpjokes)

It's Presidential Joke Day. Laugh It Up, America (LOLSOB)

Whatever you choose to call Trump’s somewhat less-than-presidential-much-less-good words and actions, today is the day to celebrate them by mocking them online. Thankfully (?) Trump has given us plenty of material to work with.

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"It hurts me to know that what I experienced was rape, that I spent eight years denying it and blaming myself." Image: Thinkstock

Being Raped Forced Me To Admit That I Myself Had Been Sexually Coercive

It took me a long time to understand consent. I knew that forcing sex on someone was rape. I knew that one in five women would be raped in their lifetime. I knew that the majority of rape victims knew their attacker. But beyond that, my understanding got cloudy.

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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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Sometimes it's right where you left it.

After Separation: How I Stumbled Upon The Courage To Love Again

Undoing a marriage costs five times as much as it does to tie one up with a bow, and the paperwork is even longer. I've cried so hard I've thrown up my dinner in a municipal lot, exhausted myself with memories to the point where 7 p.m. seems like reasonable bedtime, and contemplated spending my wedding anniversary alternating between taking a pair of scissors or a lighter to my wedding dress.

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How many spoons can reasonably be left for what makes you happy, what makes life worth living?

The Maddening Difficulties Of Going On Mental Health Disability

I first went on disability when I lived in Rochester, New York.

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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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I will be kind to myself in times of difficulty AND times of ease. Image: Thinkstock.

How Mental Health Awareness Helps Me Cope With My Mental Illnesses

[CN: PTSD, self-harm] I’m choosing this moment to remember that mental health awareness is about celebrating my victories as well as seeking medications for my biochemical imbalances.

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My Ambivalent Relationship With Feminism

What I objected to was the genderization of feminism, the idea that women's rights have to be specifically prioritized. If the overall end goal is equality, why bring gender into the equation?

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I was a living dead person: The structure was there, but there was barely anything inside.

My Ongoing Struggle Through Therapy And Medication

I went to my first therapist when I was a teenager. My family was dysfunctional to the point of being non-functional. If a decision needed to be made about custody arrangements, my parents were incapable of making it without me. Instead, I was the mediator (and had been since I was a young child), speaking first to my father on the phone and then relaying the message to my mother.

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