u/parrotfishh_j

I’m looking for advice from anyone familiar with California healthcare licensing or the complaint process.
For some background, my roommate and I have had an increasingly hostile living situation. There have been multiple police calls, threats to force entry into my locked bedroom, and ongoing conflicts over property. While that’s stressful, it isn’t the main reason I’m posting.
I’m a transgender man and currently on HRT. My roommate knows this and has made transphobic comments toward me in the past.

She works as a CNA and is currently pursuing becoming a rehab nurse. Recently, she told me about a transgender patient she cared for. She didn’t tell me the patient’s name or any identifying information, but she said she intentionally used the patient’s legal name and referred to the patient with male pronouns because she “doesn’t believe in transgender people” due to her religious beliefs.

As a trans person, that really bothered me, especially knowing this involved someone in her care.
I’m trying to understand what, if anything, should be reported. My questions are:

Does the California CNA certification board or another state agency investigate complaints involving discrimination or unprofessional conduct toward patients?
Could intentionally refusing to respect a patient’s affirmed name and pronouns be considered misconduct?
Since she told me about the patient herself, without identifying them, is that something that raises confidentiality or professionalism concerns?
Can a complaint be submitted anonymously or confidentially?

What kind of evidence is generally needed before an investigation is opened?

I’m not looking to weaponize the complaint process because we’re roommates. If I report anything, I want it to be because it genuinely violates professional standards for someone providing patient care. I’d appreciate input from anyone familiar with California healthcare licensing or who has gone through the complaint process.

Thanks in advance for any suggestions.

I miss you…

-j

I’m tired.

Not in the way sleep fixes, but in the way hope slowly wears thin after hearing “almost” enough times.

Dating as a trans man is strange. Sometimes people tell me I’m attractive. They’ll flirt, laugh with me, compliment me, make me feel seen. And then, somewhere between attraction and commitment, everything changes.

Suddenly I’m not “man enough.”

Or maybe I’m too complicated.

Maybe I’m someone they’re curious about, but not someone they can picture introducing to their family, holding hands with in public, or building a future with. Attraction exists, but commitment disappears. It feels like I’m good enough to desire, but not good enough to choose.

That kind of rejection stays with you.

People say, “Just put yourself out there,” as if rejection is a minor inconvenience. But every rejection doesn’t just say “no.” Sometimes it whispers that you’ll never fit into what people consider normal. Eventually you start wondering if approaching someone is worth the emotional cost.

And then…

I’m forever a parrot-fish.

I know that doesn’t make sense.

That’s the point.

I don’t make sense.

Not to myself.

Or to anyone else, at least that’s how it feels some days.

It’s like trying to explain a language that only exists inside your own head. I know who I am, but sometimes the world reflects back something so different that I start questioning whether I’m speaking at all or just making sounds no one understands.

I don’t want pity.

I don’t think anyone owes me love.

I just wish being seen as a man didn’t come with an asterisk. I wish attraction didn’t have to end where social expectations begin. I wish I didn’t have to wonder whether someone’s interest is real or whether it’s destined to disappear the moment reality asks them to commit.

Maybe one day I’ll meet someone who doesn’t see me as an exception, a compromise, or a secret.

Maybe one day I won’t hesitate before saying hello.

Until then, I’ll probably keep carrying all these contradictions inside me.

A man.

Too much.

Not enough.

And somehow…

Forever a parrot-fish.

\-j.

I’m tired.

Not in the way sleep fixes, but in the way hope slowly wears thin after hearing “almost” enough times.

Dating as a trans man is strange. Sometimes people tell me I’m attractive. They’ll flirt, laugh with me, compliment me, make me feel seen. And then, somewhere between attraction and commitment, everything changes.

Suddenly I’m not “man enough.”

Or maybe I’m too complicated.

Maybe I’m someone they’re curious about, but not someone they can picture introducing to their family, holding hands with in public, or building a future with. Attraction exists, but commitment disappears. It feels like I’m good enough to desire, but not good enough to choose.

That kind of rejection stays with you.

People say, “Just put yourself out there,” as if rejection is a minor inconvenience. But every rejection doesn’t just say “no.” Sometimes it whispers that you’ll never fit into what people consider normal. Eventually you start wondering if approaching someone is worth the emotional cost.

And then…

I’m forever a parrot-fish.

I know that doesn’t make sense.

That’s the point.

I don’t make sense.

Not to myself.

Or to anyone else, at least that’s how it feels some days.

It’s like trying to explain a language that only exists inside your own head. I know who I am, but sometimes the world reflects back something so different that I start questioning whether I’m speaking at all or just making sounds no one understands.

I don’t want pity.

I don’t think anyone owes me love.

I just wish being seen as a man didn’t come with an asterisk. I wish attraction didn’t have to end where social expectations begin. I wish I didn’t have to wonder whether someone’s interest is real or whether it’s destined to disappear the moment reality asks them to commit.

Maybe one day I’ll meet someone who doesn’t see me as an exception, a compromise, or a secret.

Maybe one day I won’t hesitate before saying hello.

Until then, I’ll probably keep carrying all these contradictions inside me.

A man.

Too much.

Not enough.

And somehow…

Forever a parrot-fish.

\-j.

I’m tired.

Not in the way sleep fixes, but in the way hope slowly wears thin after hearing “almost” enough times.

Dating as a trans man is strange. Sometimes people tell me I’m attractive. They’ll flirt, laugh with me, compliment me, make me feel seen. And then, somewhere between attraction and commitment, everything changes.

Suddenly I’m not “man enough.”

Or maybe I’m too complicated.

Maybe I’m someone they’re curious about, but not someone they can picture introducing to their family, holding hands with in public, or building a future with. Attraction exists, but commitment disappears. It feels like I’m good enough to desire, but not good enough to choose.

That kind of rejection stays with you.

People say, “Just put yourself out there,” as if rejection is a minor inconvenience. But every rejection doesn’t just say “no.” Sometimes it whispers that you’ll never fit into what people consider normal. Eventually you start wondering if approaching someone is worth the emotional cost.

And then…

I’m forever a parrot-fish.

I know that doesn’t make sense.

That’s the point.

I don’t make sense.

Not to myself.

Or to anyone else, at least that’s how it feels some days.

It’s like trying to explain a language that only exists inside your own head. I know who I am, but sometimes the world reflects back something so different that I start questioning whether I’m speaking at all or just making sounds no one understands.

I don’t want pity.

I don’t think anyone owes me love.

I just wish being seen as a man didn’t come with an asterisk. I wish attraction didn’t have to end where social expectations begin. I wish I didn’t have to wonder whether someone’s interest is real or whether it’s destined to disappear the moment reality asks them to commit.

Maybe one day I’ll meet someone who doesn’t see me as an exception, a compromise, or a secret.

Maybe one day I won’t hesitate before saying hello.

Until then, I’ll probably keep carrying all these contradictions inside me.

A man.

Too much.

Not enough.

And somehow…

Forever a parrot-fish.

-j.

I’m tired.

Not in the way sleep fixes, but in the way hope slowly wears thin after hearing “almost” enough times.

Dating as a trans man is strange. Sometimes people tell me I’m attractive. They’ll flirt, laugh with me, compliment me, make me feel seen. And then, somewhere between attraction and commitment, everything changes.

Suddenly I’m not “man enough.”

Or maybe I’m too complicated.

Maybe I’m someone they’re curious about, but not someone they can picture introducing to their family, holding hands with in public, or building a future with. Attraction exists, but commitment disappears. It feels like I’m good enough to desire, but not good enough to choose.

That kind of rejection stays with you.

People say, “Just put yourself out there,” as if rejection is a minor inconvenience. But every rejection doesn’t just say “no.” Sometimes it whispers that you’ll never fit into what people consider normal. Eventually you start wondering if approaching someone is worth the emotional cost.

And then…

I’m forever a parrot-fish.

I know that doesn’t make sense.

That’s the point.

I don’t make sense.

Not to myself.

Or to anyone else, at least that’s how it feels some days.

It’s like trying to explain a language that only exists inside your own head. I know who I am, but sometimes the world reflects back something so different that I start questioning whether I’m speaking at all or just making sounds no one understands.

I don’t want pity.

I don’t think anyone owes me love.

I just wish being seen as a man didn’t come with an asterisk. I wish attraction didn’t have to end where social expectations begin. I wish I didn’t have to wonder whether someone’s interest is real or whether it’s destined to disappear the moment reality asks them to commit.

Maybe one day I’ll meet someone who doesn’t see me as an exception, a compromise, or a secret.

Maybe one day I won’t hesitate before saying hello.

Until then, I’ll probably keep carrying all these contradictions inside me.

A man.

Too much.

Not enough.

And somehow…

Forever a parrot-fish.

-j.

I’m tired.

Not in the way sleep fixes, but in the way hope slowly wears thin after hearing “almost” enough times.

Dating as a trans man is strange. Sometimes people tell me I’m attractive. They’ll flirt, laugh with me, compliment me, make me feel seen. And then, somewhere between attraction and commitment, everything changes.

Suddenly I’m not “man enough.”

Or maybe I’m too complicated.

Maybe I’m someone they’re curious about, but not someone they can picture introducing to their family, holding hands with in public, or building a future with. Attraction exists, but commitment disappears. It feels like I’m good enough to desire, but not good enough to choose.

That kind of rejection stays with you.

People say, “Just put yourself out there,” as if rejection is a minor inconvenience. But every rejection doesn’t just say “no.” Sometimes it whispers that you’ll never fit into what people consider normal. Eventually you start wondering if approaching someone is worth the emotional cost.

And then…

I’m forever a parrot-fish.

I know that doesn’t make sense.

That’s the point.

I don’t make sense.

Not to myself.

Or to anyone else, at least that’s how it feels some days.

It’s like trying to explain a language that only exists inside your own head. I know who I am, but sometimes the world reflects back something so different that I start questioning whether I’m speaking at all or just making sounds no one understands.

I don’t want pity.

I don’t think anyone owes me love.

I just wish being seen as a man didn’t come with an asterisk. I wish attraction didn’t have to end where social expectations begin. I wish I didn’t have to wonder whether someone’s interest is real or whether it’s destined to disappear the moment reality asks them to commit.

Maybe one day I’ll meet someone who doesn’t see me as an exception, a compromise, or a secret.

Maybe one day I won’t hesitate before saying hello.

Until then, I’ll probably keep carrying all these contradictions inside me.

A man.

Too much.

Not enough.

And somehow…

Forever a parrot-fish.

-j.

Bluebird, I miss you dearly.

-jj

Parrotfish here looking for his bluebird…. Hopeful but tbh idk what to do anymore. I miss you, I just won’t break no contact, I did however, request you on IG… can’t say I never tried or haven’t it’s been two years now. I need something… 😭🙏🏽 we will never be strangers, even tho that’s what it feels Ike atm.

Parrotfish here looking for his bluebird… my queen are you here? Did you get my fr on ig? 😭😩