Hi, I am Jaye. My pronouns are she/her/hers and fae/faer/faers. I’m a neurospicy polyamorous genderfae demisexual transgender lesbian woman. I also happen to like writing stories.
Generally I’m terrible at writing about myself. Call it my anxiety, my depression, my rejection sensitive dysphoria … all of these? But that’s the thing, I am not going to hide away who and what I am (yes, I know I’ve said that before, times were a little different, and I was pretty different, it happens).
I am married. Depending upon how you look at it either since 2000 or since 2017, it depends on how much stock you put in marriage licenses. I put very little though for regional climate reasons we do tend to count the wedding day as our anniversary because the weather is much better. I do not have children of my own as yet. I hope to correct that some day, but I do have three delightful cats (well, three very adorable agents of pure chaos possessed of a felinoid shape) and one very sweet little bunny.
I am autistic, I have ADHD, I am dyslexic and dyscalculiac, and I suffer both anxiety and depression. Except for not being bisexual I’m your stereotypical queer burnt out former gifted kid. But I am half(ish) way to a Bachelor of Arts in history, and have every intention to resume and finish that soon going on from there to grad school.
I am from Arkansas and Hawaii (no, I haven’t really got an accent … or I have several depending on your point of view) at least originally. I’ve lived in various parts of the US south, and presently reside in the north eastern US.
I’m a witch. Not Wiccan, not anymore (no hate, just not for me, too close to being organised religion which I’m atrocious at).
Why do you care? Maybe you don’t, maybe someone else does. Visibility. I’m done playing at stealth except when my safety is in the balance. I’m certainly not going to pretend like neurodivergence or mental illness are shameful. They’re nothing more significant than my having red hair or my having asthma. My pineapple and latex allergies are significant though; not Epipen significant but I’ve been told by an allergist to keep Benadryl in my purse as a precaution.
Is Jaye my “real” name? Is Edgecliff? Is Em a proper name or is it short for something? That, for reasons of simple privacy and safety, shall remain unanswered save for: yes, Em is a real name. I’ll not elaborate further if it is my own.
I am not on poor terms with my biological family, though I can also say that we don’t really know one another well. When you’re a queer kid in the 80s … I’ve been dangerously depressed since I was eight, I was withdrawn and antisocial. I was a pretty misanthropic kid. But what’s more queer culture than found/chosen family? I’m the adopted auntie of several delightful young people I’ve come to know well and love dearly, I am sister to a number of others closer to my own age. All of humanity is kin, build your family from those you cherish most. Consanguinity be damned.
That … is me. That’s who I am. At this time. Maybe I’ll change in some way over time as one does, and this page will evolve with that, but this is me as authentically as I can be.