Stories of Hope: trans man finds recovery through art and community

by Kri Van Sloun

My name is Kri and I’ve been many things in this life. Who I am now is vastly different from those I’ve once been and I try to give thanks to the past for the person I am in the present. I was once a young girl who wrote poetry, a person who identified with no gender and fought with authoritative figures, a person who would drink, smoke or shoot, a girl who would read as a form of escape, a boy who thought it was wrong to be a boy, and now a man with community, contentment, a man who is still healing. 

My first kiss was with another girl in high school. For her it was “practice” for when boys would be around, for me it was a breath, it was silence, it was without understanding why. There were rumors that I was a lesbian, that title didn’t feel right and was clingy and scratched at my skin.

To ease the discomfort there were pills, little baggies and powder. I had never cared much for stimulants as they made everything brighter and vivid, I wanted something to cloud everything out, something to escape. It was an accessible coping mechanism. It was something I could romanticize as so many musicians, writers and artists have done before me.

The substance use intensified when I came out at 18 as non-binary and queer. I lost family and friends, had the experiences that most are afraid of. I had my first girlfriend, she would do cocaine and I would do pills and we would create together. I would write stories to accompany her photography but after a few months of experiencing homophobia she broke off our partnership, yet we still maintained entanglement.

Through our art and limbs, for months at a time, coming together and slipping a part. She moved to NYC and I moved to more potent substances, looking for the calm that she used to bring.

Within one week I had overdosed three times. It was my breaking point– knowing I would die within the week if I kept going.

When I was 20, I stopped with the pills and powder and spoons and straws and joined the rank of legal addiction. I moved to drinking instead as it was a healthier choice– something I now recognize was harm reduction. It was remarkably easy, finding queer leftist punks who accepted that form of substance use. My gender identity was respected and no one glanced at my sexuality being fluid. It was the acceptance I had been craving. I was drinking as a coping mechanism to suppress the trauma and it worked for many years. Until it didn’t. 

I still don’t know entirely what happened. Those who participate in 12-step programs would call it Divine Intervention, atheists would call it luck. I’m still unsure of what title to give it and don’t think the naming matters so much as the outcome.

I was hungover for days, having the shakes and going through alcohol withdrawal and somehow I didn’t manage to drink. I lived in an intentional collective house with seven people who were artists and activists. One roommate took care of me for a week, and by the end of that week I had come out the other side. I would like to make it clear, that losing my coping mechanisms was the hardest thing that had occurred in my life.

I would be overcome with grief and cry for hours without knowing the trigger. I couldn’t sleep at night, would survive off of coffee and cigarettes, attempting to rest when I could. Something that helped in early recovery was having a hobby that pre-existed substance use. I turned to art. I had a community to turn to and made friends who were creatives that were also sober, or had no history of addiction. The world started to open up and I was able to dream again. It took years to acknowledge, and at the 31st year of my life I started HRT and living as a man. I attribute my sobriety to the honesty I was able to have with myself, which has extended to others. 

Since 2021 I have done so many things. I started medically transitioning, traveled to South America and hiked in the Amazon Rainforest, received and healed from top surgery, started working as an advocate for harm reduction with those who use drugs and offering support to those that are interested in recovery. I’ve participated in gallery shows and art markets, and have cultivated a loving community of chosen family. I have also relapsed and returned to recovery practices, wanting my life to be one of ease instead of anxiety and fear. My world continues to open up, and for that I am forever grateful.