No One Takes My Struggle as a Were-Frog Seriously (And I'm Tired of It)

Hey everyone,

I’m not sure where else to vent, because every time I bring this up, people either laugh, roll their eyes, or tell me I’m "just quirky" or "looking for attention." So here it is, laid out as plainly as I can:

I’m a were-frog.
Yes, really. Not a werewolf. Not a shapeshifter in some sexy fantasy novel. A were-frog. And it sucks.

Once a month (no, not that kind of monthly), I undergo a full transformation. One minute I’m a functioning member of society—job, apartment, friends who only half-suspect something’s weird—and the next I’m croaking in a pond, eating bugs, and trying not to get stepped on by kids playing near the water.

But what really gets me isn’t the slimy skin, or the awkward hopping, or even the fact that I once got chased by a raccoon while trying to make it back to my house. It’s the way people dismiss me.

“Oh, that’s so quirky, you must be great at parties!”
“Lol, what’s your superpower? Ribbiting conversations?”
Or my personal favorite: “You’re lucky. Frogs are cute.”

I’m not lucky. I can’t hold a job if the full moon hits midweek. My dating life is nonexistent because apparently “I occasionally become amphibious” is a red flag. And have you ever tried to unlock your door with webbed fingers and no thumbs? Go ahead. I’ll wait.

I get that it sounds ridiculous. I wouldn’t believe me either if I weren’t living it. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real. And just because I don’t fit into some romanticized idea of what supernatural suffering is supposed to look like doesn’t mean my experience isn’t valid.

So yeah, this is a rant. But it’s also a plea. If you know someone who’s going through something weird or hard to understand—maybe not were-frog weird, but weird for them—don’t laugh. Don’t brush it off. Just listen. Maybe ask what it’s like. Maybe care a little.

Ribbit.

— HopelessButTrying