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

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 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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Still here. Still queer. Image: Liz Lazzara.

Dating A Man Doesn't Negate My Queerness

If you see me with my partner, you’ll more than likely think that I’m a straight girl in a heterosexual relationship — and there’s nothing I hate more. Being with a man seems to negate my sexuality, rendering it secret or private when I’m anything but.

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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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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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The men, it seemed, could say or wear anything they wanted, but the women had to protect ourselves from the men because they couldn’t control themselves. Image: Foundry Co/PEXELS.

My Experience With Sexism In The Psych Ward

[CN: suicidality, hospitalization, rape culture, slut-shaming.] We all needed a place to recover, a place where our problems could be addressed and dealt with, a place where we could feel safe. However, the way the women in the ward were treated couldn’t possibly have made us feel safe or comfortable.

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Is my equipment defective? Or is it as simple as removing a mental block?

My Personal Struggle With Masturbation And Finding A Possible Solution

What if masturbation doesn’t work for you? What if you’ve tried fingers, vibrators, porn, fantasies, and even romancing yourself with glasses of wine, and you still can’t seem to get there?

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Moms aren't always our best friends.

My Relationship With My Mother, The Frenemy

Last week, my mother came home from work, found the shower faucet leaking hot water, and told me to "get my head out of my cunt, and start thinking about other things."

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The simple fact of realizing I had choices gave me freedom.

4 Things I Realized When I Discovered My Own Self-Worth

I wanted to keep people at a distance. I wanted sympathy and validation. I believed that I was inherently unworthy. However, lately, I’ve begun to change my mind — or rather, it’s started to change on its own.

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Keep going forward.

Strap On Whenever It Seems Appropriate: Why This Quote Became My Life-Changing Mantra

After the breathless panting of my previous panic attack had converted over time to lust, I found myself with my new love having sex in the shower. Bent over the rim of the claw-foot bathtub, I felt the past being replaced with the new joys of the present.

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