Tegan Stover

It’s weird how one little word can describe so many things in one’s life. I’ve always felt caught between different aspects of identity, of categories, but never quite of either. This has affected every aspect of my life from my origins, my interests, and my circumstances. Let’s start from the beginning.

• Although both of my parents were native to upstate New York, my Dad’s side of the family is from West Virginia. Too Appalachian to be paired with “the North” but too far north to be part of “the South”.
• My Mom’s side of the family was French-Canadian via Quebec. Not “French enough” for France and “too French” for Canada (at least according to anecdotes I’ve heard when I lived in North Country).
• At school, too different (Tourette’s Syndrome, OCD, GAD, and ADHD which has only just been confirmed THIS YEAR) for the neurotypical kids, but too “normal” (high-masking/neurotypical-passing) for my “invisible disabilities” to be taken seriously by faculty.
  • This has been especially painful. If it doesn’t get addressed, it doesn’t go away just because you’re older. I used to excel in my classes when I was younger, to the point that I would get extra material so I wouldn’t get too bored because I was ahead of my classmates. That changed as I got older. It got harder and harder to focus and apply myself. Because I was seen as a high achiever, even though I had legitimate untreated difficulties with executive dysfunction, time management, emotional regulation, and short-term memory, it was painted as a moral/character failing by teachers. One middle school teacher even went so far as to blatantly and actively encourage my classmates to shame me one day for not bringing in my homework during one of the most difficult years of my life at the time. But I digress. Another post for another time. I would love to talk about teachers and the importance of compassion in a future post.
• Too open-minded for youth group, but too square for the “cool kids” at school.
• In Nevada, there’s something called the Millenium Scholarship. We moved here during my senior year of high school. I checked off ALL of the requirements to achieve it EXCEPT for the length of residency.
• On that note, my family made too much for me to qualify for a Pell Grant but not enough to easily afford college. I’ve got my Bachelors Degree but I had to take out loans that I’m still working to pay back.
• Although there were so many clues that I was dense to, I realized a few years back that I am pansexual. But since I’ve never dated anyone except for cisgender men, because I’m straight-passing, it took a very long time for me to feel like I wouldn’t be intruding upon queer spaces even though my orientation is just as valid.
• Being told I’m “vital” in certain spaces and by certain people, and then literally being forgotten by the same people. I unfortunately can’t expand on this one right now, but I will when the time is right.

In retrospect, it looks like this list is quite a bummer, but these are only the things that immediately come to mind, from a single, albeit relevant word. But as painful as some aspects of my life have been, I think it has afforded me a robust sense of empathy, which is something that I would never want to give up, no matter how bad things get. The most beautiful moments of my life have been fertilized by their juxtaposition to the pain I have gone through. One of the pros of living “liminally” is that it gives you the time to be able to peek in on both the sides you’re straddled between and to be able to understand people all the better. Here’s to hoping I can put that to good use in this lifetime.

I am still pretty new to thought pieces and listicles, so I would absolutely love feedback (but don’t be too mean, im baby)!

I thought it would be fun to do something experimental today.

Thanks for reading and see you on Saturday! …For real this time!