You’ve Made Your War. Now I’m Making My Peace. Now I’m Taking My Stand.

This post is a letter. It’s a LONG letter. There is a video embedded. It deals heavily with personal issues. It deals heavily with me calling out bullshit, abuse, and horrible behavior. Please use caution when reading this entry

Contains: transphobia, homophobia, “being not prejudice”, no fucks given, and mentions of abuse (mental/emotional) ~ be warned the video have heavy themes of religion, transphobia, homophobia, touchy subjects, harsh discussion, and just blatant rudeness. if the video content DOES NOT WORK, please tell me in the comments, i can work on fixing it if possible.

If you’re joining me for this ride, thank you. I hope that this helps more people in my situation to realize the gravity of how some “family” treats their LGBTQ relatives. I hope this helps you find peace of mind, and I hope that it helps you realize that it is okay to cut ties and move on.

Always be you. Always be happy.

And always remember, there’s someone out there who truly does care and love you for who you are as a person.

Let’s proceed ♥

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Before we press on, I want to make this point as clear as I possibly can. This will be the last time you hear from me. Do not call me, do not text me. Do not look me up on facebook, do not send me any emails. Do not ask around looking for me. Do not ask around trying to contact me. Don’t ask about me, don’t even think of me. Erase me from your existence. Because from what I know to be true, you already have.

Now. Let’s move on.

Let’s start with the graduation party. You have to be some kind of special ridiculousness to pull a stunt like that and not think that I would hear about it or notice. Heck, you even fuckin’ invited me in the midst of some fifty other people you know would not be nice to me. Don’t exactly know what you were trying to do there, other than probably look polite or look nice in the eyes of everyone, but it was pretty low. And that’s not even the lowest part of all that.

To the fact that you purposely placed it on my birthday is nothing short of atrocious. Back that up with you didn’t even ASK to have it at Pam’s house in the first place. Back that up even more with when asked about said party and why you all picked that day and whatnot, people couldn’t even be looked in the eyes when stammering over a “explanation”. I don’t know how you could even be okay with that, but I guess it doesn’t matter since, you know, you only have one child now and that child sure as hell isn’t me.

Which brings me to my next point. Hearing word that you have only one child and Becca doesn’t have a sibling. That’s even lower, and insanely disgusting. You told me once  that ‘we wouldn’t disown you’. Well I’m not sure what you’re calling it in your twisted little world, but I would say that’s a huge red flag right there. Hand in hand with slathering a graduation party right over my birthday like a brand new shiny poster covering up an old, tattered one left on the wall for a few days. Not only am I disgusted and can’t wrap my head around it, but nobody can. Not Bobby’s parents, not my friends, not people I’ve talked to who agree with me on EVERYTHING I am saying but can’t open their mouths about, and definitely not my therapist. Which will bring me onto another point in a few moments. But sit tight, I’m sure you’ve made it this far.

Oh. One more thing:

If you’re pissed off at my “rude tone”/”bad attitude” well then sorry too bad. I have the right to this and I’ve been quiet for far too long. Enough is enough and this ends now. I’m done being quiet. I’m actually being really polite, all things considered. I could have written worse. And you know it.

Before I get to the therapist portion, as if the birthday-graduation party thing wasn’t enough, your horribly ill-mannered reaction to my telling you I have a tumor and basically have to take treatment pills every week to combat the tumor / cancer . . . I don’t even know where to begin with that. At first, I wasn’t even going to bother telling anyone because I knew it would not matter. Nobody was going to give a flying fuck. Not like everyone else did who’d come to the house twice, sat with me, talked to me, took me out, and tried to help me forget about it. Who helped buy my $30 medication for said treatment. Who checks in on me REGULARLY both in person and messaging. I haven’t heard snippet of anyone in how long? Weeks? I don’t hear jack unless I message first and honestly, I don’t like to in the long run.

But back to the tumor conversation. It was baffling to myself and so many people that you first only commented on me flying and how could I fly with a tumor. THEN went so far as to say that surgery probably shouldn’t have happened with the tumor if they’d have found it in the bloodwork, which they did. Then didn’t comment for several seconds or minutes until you decided to say Becca had a MRI and didn’t like it. Which … didn’t even relate to the topic much at all and was totally derailed. And your favorite sentence repeated several times (“K”) and basically that was that until flight day. I merely told you out of courtesy for your guys’ health since I knew there had been imbalances in the past. But honestly? What courtesy do I owe anyone with the way I’m treated?

I don’t even know how to properly comprehend the conversation. If your child comes to you saying “Hey I have cancer/a tumor and this and that” . . . you don’t react so poorly. So bland. But then again. I’m not anyone’s child anymore, so I guess that makes more sense now, doesn’t it? It just simply does not matter.

I’m saving the worst (best) for last, so I’ll just move onto the therapist part.

I’m seeing a therapist. Weekly. Maybe more if I have to. To get rid of all this fucked up mental and emotional abuse I’ve stacked up over the last who knows years. And yeah, I know what  everyone’s thinking or saying already. “WE NEVER ABUSED YOU HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT?! WE HAVE ALWAYS DONE EVERYTHING FOR YOU. YOU DIDN’T HAVE IT BAD.”

Well then. Let me just pull out my notebook of receipts and take you on this ride even further.

Everyone’s living in 1991. I’m not that sick little child anymore who needs 300 doctors, has this or that, needs this or that. I’ve done so well on my own in the last few years and I’m proud of it. I’ve become healthy enough to not need the GTube. I dropped so many medications. I haven’t needed to go on multiple doctor excursions since North Carolina. I’m so tired of everyone living in the past and “you almost died when you were born”, “you don’t know what we’ve done for you over the years”, etc etc etc. I’m not talking about then. Ever. I’m talking about NOW. How I’m treated and looked at NOW. How disgusting and twisted and distorted your views on “family” is NOW. It’s honestly toxic and damaging to everyone. But of course, you’ll never see that. You’re all so perfect. You’re all so loving, polite, and caring. Let me tell you something. Bobby’s parents have been more accepting, kind, caring, and TRYING than you in the last seven years I’ve been out. And they’ve only known me shy of four years with being with Bobby. So I mean. You can’t blame it on generational stuff. You can’t even blame it on religion anymore. It’s purely personal now. And that’s horrific.

Emotional and mental abuse are real, whether you wanna believe you weren’t horrible parents/relatives or not. You may have never hit me, but that doesn’t matter. It’s just as real, and it’s just as damaging. And you will have no idea, because you refuse to believe it.

And all of this and more? Oh, it’s going to take many, many, many years to sort out and let go of and stop. It’s going to take lots of therapy. It’s going to take my friends, my boyfriend (yeah that’s right. We aren’t lesbians. We aren’t girlfriends. But you know what? That just goes right along with EVERYTHING else, doesn’t it?), and the people I’ve known for just a year that have become way more family than you have in the last seven. You know who’s messaged me in the last year? You know who’s called? Who’s come to the house to see me? Who’s helped me with food and money? That’s right.

I used to think religion was a huge factor and it is. But it’s also a mask. You use it to justify your actions, your behaviors, and your overall life and what “family” is to you. Family to you is people who have done everything for you, who X, Y, and Z. Who are forced into sticking around. Who are guilted, gaslighted, manipulated, and lied to. Your twisted senses of reality around you and what you define as family is . . . alarming. You know what family is????

  • Family are people who show up at your house when you need them to. Who want to hang out with you, who help you with monetary necessities, who take you to where you need to go, and who house you and not ask for much in return.
  • Family are people who DON’T treat you like a display or a science fair project to be “woooowwwww”ed and “i can’t even believe it” over and ask you about every little thing about yourself and gender, what bathroom you use, why you do that, when do you do this, why surgery, why that, i hope you change back and change your attitude, etc etc ; when they aren’t being educated at all, they’re just being them and looking to pick arguments.
  • Family are people you can talk to any time of the day about heavy stuff, bad stuff, good stuff, and who will carry you through every single bad and good thing and not remind you ENDLESSLY about “well when you were sick and in the hospital we did X Y and Z for you”. no. they support you in THAT time and we move on with life, better or worse. (stated previously)
  • Family is what you make it. I’ve made mine. I know who they are. I know their names. I see their faces. I know how they treat me. I know that they REALLY are the ones who love and care for me.

I  know who my family is.

I suggest that you better shape up yours.


Onto my next point. A video. Recorded a year ago TODAY (May 16th, 2016). Only few knew about this at first, but my god. It’s the worst thing anyone could ever lay ears on. So let’s dive a little further.

That is, if you’ve made it this far.


I can also account for several different occasions to where this isn’t the only time in the last two years. The first time I decided to dress less than feminine, I was told that I wouldn’t be taken out in public “looking like that”. At the time, it’s ironic, that you had stood up for me saying it was “just clothes”. But as soon as I find my true self and come forth with it, it’s a problem. It’s not just clothes anymore. Now it’s some huge ordeal and issue that I need to snap out of and go to therapists and church for. It’s kind of laughable.

The summer we went to North Carolina for the first time to meet everyone? I remember the one thing that was said to me was “If you’re going to be together and chose this life, why does one of you have to be the boy?” Can’t shake that one off, and you can’t argue that one, either.

When I came out as lesbian first, and was dating Sam and all of that stupidness happened? The one thing I remember that was said to me, again, was “You know what the Bible says about that.” I lived in fear of going out in public with you guys, around church people, around Mark and everyone else the years following that until I was able to move out and be my own person. The time Julie ended up sending you emails and causing unneeded chaos after I really did (sort of) come out as trans? That was the end of it. It was one of the reasons, yes, I did move to NC. It was one of several reasons.

More recently, when I was living back in Poland last summer. Nobody wanted to take me out in public. Nobody wanted to take me to the store, the movies with them (which prompted the argument in said video because Becca didn’t want me to go to the movies with her), camping, etc. I was barely talked to or engaged unless it was for dinner, to argue about something stupid, or ask me questions about this or that. Minor things, whatever. Not the point. I was an embarrassment to everyone, and it was made very very fuckin’ clear to me. Nobody had to say anything. And the only reason I had to come back was because of all that bullshit with Shauna and Zack. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have made that choice on my own. Brings me to my next point:

Not only that, but I’ve pretty much been couch hopping and homeless for the last two years (since I left Poland in Sept 2016-now). Because I refuse to step foot in that house or even in Poland for that matter. I refuse to be around this . . . toxic environment that’s been created. Not only surrounding me and my life, but literally everything else that has been going on. It should say something to you that I would rather have the stress of not knowing where I will be tomorrow or even the next months or weeks than be there. That should speak volumes. But I doubt it will. Since you all seem to be such upstanding model citizens and “family”. Still, it should at least make you think a little.

Really, though, the thing that broke it all for me and is the end all to be all was the whole graduation party debacle. That and claiming that you only have one child/she’s the only child. That’s really . . . dense. I don’t know how you can act like that, then still claim “we love you no matter what”, “we don’t support your life, but we still love you, you’re still family”. That’s not family. That’s not human. That’s disgusting. And I’ll say it again and again, whether you get it through your heads or not.

You’ve created such a toxic hole in the floor that people are literally going left and right to get away from it. Like I said, don’t be surprised that I’ve heard things. That I know what’s going on. We’ve always been drama seekers/starters/involving ourselves in each other’s business and causing problems. I just can’t believe that someone would stoop so low as to literally throw me away like I don’t exist. Not only from one person, but from several. This is not an isolated incident. And you can’t claim it otherwise. This has been going on for a while. And you can’t say it hasn’t.

Nobody should go to this length to make sure that they are embarrassed about their child/family member. Nobody should take such drastic, dramatic, argumentative, horrific measures that have been taken here. Nobody should be that ashamed of their child / relative PERIOD.

And I know that not a one of you are going to see it that way. But of course I’ll be in the wrong. Because of course ‘you’re the one living this life, so of course you’re not going to see it’. At this point, it’s far far far beyond any excuses and any stupid reason you have for behaving this way. It’s personal at this point. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have totally erased my birthday on purpose. And Becca wouldn’t mention that she’s an only child. This is too far gone and I have no reason to press further into trying to mend any form of relationship at all. I shouldn’t have to feel pressured into talking to anyone because “we’re still family”. I am an adult, and who I chose to keep in my life is my choice alone. Releasing toxicity and negativity is something I’ve learned to do. And I’m doing it now. No more silence, no more appeasing you, no more tip-toeing. I’ve had it and I’m ending it here. I’m sick and tired of playing nice, and I’m done.

You can take with this what you will. I know everyone’s going to get pissed off about it and say every little bad thing about me. That’s fine. Say what you want. If you want to make me out to be this bad person over and over and over again by saying things that are fucking 100% true, then that’s your problem. If you wanna say bad, nasty, mean things about me and call me out, then do it. Just know I won’t be around to hear it, so it’ll fall on deaf and also manipulated ears. People will take your side, sure. But I know very well who’s on mine. Video was proof enough to my friends, to Bobby, to just about anyone who’s seen it that this is exactly the way I am treated. And it’s gone on long enough, and it’s not one isolated incident.

I don’t have to excuse or forgive anyone. Have it your twisted Christian way, sure, but I don’t have to forgive my abusers. I don’t have to subject myself to “well they were nice sometimes”. Sometimes nice and sometimes supportive and sometimes doing things for me doesn’t excuse behavior. It never will, and I don’t have to kneel before you just because of reason X, Y, Z, done this or that for you. It was done out of ‘well I have to’ , or more or less so  that you looked like the pretty, polite, kind family you so desperately want for the world to see. Sure, before you did things for me because you loved me once. But recently in the last, oh, seven or so years? Not so much. It became routine to just do things for me, talk to me on holidays only, and respond to messages only when  I engaged first. It became robotic. And for a while, I tolerated it. For a while, I thought it was something. Now it’s just . . . intolerable. It fucking hurts, the way everyone’s did me wrong. And if you want to deny it, then fine. But I’m not going to be expected to hold on much longer. I’m cutting the rope, and I’m dotting my last i and crossing my last t.

Maybe someday you’ll change your attitudes. And then we can talk. But if not, then I don’t know what to tell you or what to say to you.

Life’s funny sometimes, but I know I can at least do something about some of the things that are happening. This is one of them. This is my first step into a lighter future. Lighter, happier, and real. I’ve only met a handful of my friends since last year, and in addition to Bobby and his parents. They all have done so much more for me, loved me, and supported me than that I’ve had in the last who knows when from any of you. I’m shocked at the overwhelming amount of . . . love and hope and support and family that I have found and made my own. It’s so much more than I could have ever thought possible. Even though it’s been a shit two years for me, I’ve had fun. I’ve had experiences I never ever ever would have dreamt I could because of your anti-world, anti-lgbt, anti-everything way of thinking. I have more friends than I ever had growing up. I can go places I never knew existed. I have community. I have life. I have family. I don’t need your twisted, destructive views on what family is.

So think about that. Think about what I said. Think about how I’m feeling. If you even want to. Think about how twisted and sad this all sounds. Really look at yourselves, if you can. You have to have some sort of humility. You have to have some kind of little voice in your head that is fucking telling you that you are very wrong here. You gotta have some kind of conscious to even have made the decisions you have made and said the things you have. You may think I’m being rude and have a tone and I’m attacking you, but listen. You have got to know even just a little bit in the deepest, farthest, darkest reaches of your mind that you’ve placed in a little box. That I’m right. And that you hurt me far more than you care to admit. You’re all human here. Strip away religion, ways of life, personalities . . . we’re all human. You have to know that. And if you don’t, then I feel sorry for you.

As I said in the beginning, this will be the last time you’ll hear from me. Maybe if everyone shapes up their attitude in a few years, we can sit down like adults and talk. Maybe I can forgive you, maybe not. Maybe nothing will be restored ever again. Whatever the case may be, and whatever happens just know that I did this for me. I had hoped for seven plus long years that things would change. That maybe I could salvage something if I worked harder at it. If I talked to you more. If I came over sometimes. If I invited you to come say hey. If I messaged you. If I called. Everything began to fall on deaf ears. And in between giving bland fucks about the tumor situation and the graduation party, and claiming that there was only one child????

Well. That was probably the push I needed to get to this point. I had hoped, maybe another year to try. And I could work on either just letting go quietly, slowly, and politely. Not so much, sadly. You’ve picked this battle, and I’m sorry that you think so lowly of me as you all do. I’m sorry that you had to go this route of destruction and hate. And I am sorry that you chose this.

I was, at one point, willing to work with everyone. I was willing to try and be nice. I had been nice, in fact. Which is why I argued so strongly in said video and tried to help people understand left and right. Just treat me like a fucking person. But no, you couldn’t even do that. So I’m done being pushed around, questioned, being silenced, being hidden, and being afraid. You may tell people there’s only one child, but they’re not stupid. I’m out there still, (and I really hope you haven’t told people I moved away, ran off, died, or some other horrible cover up story for saying “I’m an only child”, “I only have one child”, “I don’t have a sibling”. You could have fashioned any story at this point. Unless you truly are dumb enough to tell people you have disowned me for good. But people would probably applaud you for that ANYWAY) and you can’t hide that. You cannot hide the fact I am alive, I exist, and I am loud. You cannot dim this light, and you never will. I want you to remember that. I want you to live that.

To end this, there are points below. I don’t care who read this entire thing first, I have some small words. So here we go.

Tracy: Most of this was for you. So if you read this first, then I don’t have anything further to say.

Ajay: Good luck to you, honestly. I mean it.

Becca:  I don’t even know what to say to you. I’m hurt, mostly. That’s mostly what I can say.

Pam: Keep doing what you’re doing.

Everyone else: I’m sure you’ve all read this by now in full. Most of it was for you, too. If you’ve watched the video, I’m not sorry for it. I needed to record it. I needed people to see what was happening. I needed to document what garbage it all was. I needed to show my hurt. I’ve nothing more to say here, either.

So that’s it. I’ve said what I had to. Now it’s on your shoulders. It’s up to you what you do from here. But like I said, I’m cutting the ties right now. I’ve had enough, and it’s time for me to move forward. This is the final word, and I will have the final word here and now. You can argue with everyone else about this, you can say what you want. But I will not and do not want to hear it. I will not subject myself back into the endless cycle I so desperately tried to get myself out of. I’ve crawled here, fought here, and managed to get this far. Writing this was anxiety inducing because I know exactly how the reaction is going to be. But it was a push in the right direction from my therapist, my friends, and more importantly to myself. I’d been lying to myself for so long about trying to make things right. I ended up hurting myself over and over again. Now I’m fed up and hurt even more.

All I can say is it that it was the right push.

No need to thank me. It’s what you wanted, after all, isn’t it?

So you’re welcome.




Dear Mother’s Day

I see you there with your cutesy ads on tv and you’re cozy feelings about mom loves you no matter what you are, who you become, or what you’ve done. I see you in loving gift giving, hugs, kisses, ‘I love you’s’ and all the things you’re supposed to see, do, and have on this day.

I see you, but more than anything. You don’t see us.

You don’t see the kids like me, (or even adults, let’s be real here) who don’t have today to celebrate. We don’t have a mother to celebrate, or even a motherly figure. Whether she’s parted long ago, been abusive to you, or just isn’t in your life for any reason at all. Mother’s Day is not for everyone and for kids like me, it’s a day we fear the most. It’s a day we rather not discuss. And it’s a day we really don’t want to acknowledge.

Sadly, some of you may have to acknowledge your mother on this day, even if you don’t want to. Maybe she’s gaslighting you. Maybe she’s making you because “you have to love me, I’m your mother” or “I’ve done everything for you, and you act like I’m the most horrible person in the world?” If this is the case, I am truly sorry and I hope you can get through the day as smoothly as possible. I’ve been there, believe me. I have been there time and time again. And I hope someday soon, you’ll be able to get out of it.

For many others, like myself, especially if you’re LGBTQ+, it’s hard as well. I’m unraveling years of abuse from Tracy and in recent light of events (despite CONSTANT “we would never disown you” in the last few years of me coming out as trans), suddenly I’m not even her child anymore (stated in more recent blogs). So for this reason, it’s bitter. I’m bitter. I’m angry. As much as I don’t give a fuck anymore about her and her fucking thoughts and views on who I am as a person, much less not even her fuckin’ child anymore, it still sucks on this day. Because while everyone else is posting long statuses with photos, and heartfelt comments and greetings to their mother, I’m left sitting here despising my own and wondering why the fuck she couldn’t just be an adult and love me anyway. And I’m wondering why I still fucking care so much when I shouldn’t. If this is the same case for you on this day, then know you’re not alone. Like myself, there’s so many of us who are hateful and bitter and hurting today. It’s okay. Don’t be ashamed of that. Today is not the day for your m*ther if she’s been as hurtful and abusive as Tracy.

Maybe your mother has passed on, whether recent or many many years ago. If this is the case for you, I am sorry for your loss. I hope today goes by smoothly for you, too, and that you can think about happy memories you’ve had with your mom and smile. While it may be hard, I hope that you can remember the good times, even some bad if it comes with a bit of good, and find a way to honor her on this day. May you find light and love this year, and every year that follows.

Dear Mother’s Day: today is not for everyone and I wish that more people understood that. Whether it is for the reasons above or even if you have two moms and of course the media doesn’t show that enough in their commercials. Take the time for YOU today, no matter what your reason is. Play a video game if you can, listen to some of your favorite music, watch some YouTube, watch some cartoons. Turn off the tv because all of the commercials are just . . . stifling. Do something for YOU today, either after you have loved your mother if she’s with you, you’ve been forced to interact with your mother if she’s abusive and negative, or you’ve honored your mother if she’s passed. Please take a few hours , if you can , for you today as well. Your mental and emotional health is just as important as celebrating this day. No matter what your standing is with your mom.

To everyone on this day who maybe isn’t having it the best: please don’t feel bad about today. Don’t feel guilty about hating the day. And please do remember to care for yourself. Everything you think or feel is human, especially on days surrounding relatives or parents. Don’t ever feel like you’re obligated to love someone just because they’re, well, “family”.

So no, I do not celebrate today  Will I ever one day with maybe a mother figure or something? Maybe, I don’t know. But for now, I rather not think about it too much if I can help it. Maybe the years will get better as they go by. Maybe it won’t bother me so much as I get older. Maybe it won’t even register that it’s a special holiday, just a normal weekday. At least, that is my hope for now.

In ending,

Dear Mother’s Day:

Please don’t forget about the rest of us.


It’s Gonna Be Bad Tonight

Tomorrow I will be having top surgery. This is a common procedure for most trans identifying persons and sometimes even some non binary people. And while I’m super excited and can’t wait to see what all of my years of struggle will finally unfold for me, it’s also . . . terrifying. There’s a lot of mixed emotions going on and no, I don’t mean bad. And I don’t say that because I’m going to ‘regret it.’ Anything big like that, you’re going to get a fuck ton of emotions coming at you. This is especially evident for me with my whole . . . lack of familial support and all.

I have fought for a long time in being who I am. And it took me even longer to get just shy of 22 hours away from surgery. The most major surgery I could ever hope to get in my freedom and in being myself. And it’s okay to have all of these feelings. It’s okay to feel like you’re on a roller coaster. That doesn’t mean you’re wanting to back out. It doesn’t mean you think you’re going to regret it. Anyone would feel this much range of emotions after fighting for so long and having the hard road I’ve been on. Especially if you also don’t have any immediate family support. I don’t know everyone’s story, but that doesn’t matter. Even if you do have the support, feeling those range of emotions is totally normal. And I just have to remind myself of this. And that it’s okay.

I’m excited. I’m beyond excited. But I’m also very stressed out and nervous. I mean, who isn’t with surgery? But with this big of a change, it’s ten fold. But I know once it’s all over and done and I’ve come that far across the line, I’ll feel better. Not immediately, no, but I will feel better.

I wish I had more support coming with me. I wish I had what I used to. I’m never going to stop saying that. I’ll eventually stop thinking that, sure. But nothing is going to change the fact that it’s not going to happen. I’m very grateful for my boyfriend coming tomorrow, yes, along with one other additional support. But it’s not the same as anyone else. Not the same as Them. And it never will be. And people understand that. The biggest point in my life and my transitioning and the people who should care about me the most no matter what will not be around. And that’s . . . that’s foreign to me. And even though I know everyone else is more of a family to me than They ever will be now, it’s still tough. I’m lucky to have them all. I love them all. They’ve all done more for me than I could ever hope in the last few years and the last year to be more recent. It’s just different. It’s . . . it’s upsetting. I won’t lie.

Today’s my last day with boobs. It is my last full day wearing a binder. And honestly, I’ve never been more relieved, scared, nervous, and excited in my life. Knowing the face of America today terrifies me as my surgery approaches. Knowing that if I’m ever around Them, taking my shirt off is going to be a whole new warhead path. Knowing that I could be at any moment in any kind of danger is nerve wrecking. Feeling how They are talking about or approaching tomorrow is sickening. There’s so much going on around me and in my head that it’s causing a flood of emotions. And again, that’s okay. I can’t celebrate as much as I’d have loved to. With people I thought maybe I would have made progress with. But I can celebrate with those who truly love , care , and accept me. I’m not a side show. I’m not something to pray about. I’m not a passing ‘fad’. I’m not changing my mind. I’ve come this far. I’m never going back.

I am who I am. And I have fought blood, sweat, tears, tooth, nail, legal systems, friends, people abroad, doctors, pharmacies, insurances, myself even, and hopping from living space to living space just to keep my sanity and stay away from Them permanently. I put my foot down a long time ago. It’s not coming up now.

Tomorrow is going to be the biggest day of my life. It’s going to be the most important day of my transitioning journey. And today is going to be one hell of a rollercoaster.

And that’s more than okay.

It’s Okay, I’m Not Mad

On the contrary, I am quite the opposite. I’m proud of you and happy for you. I’m so excited that you’ve accomplished so much. And I can’t wait to see where it all takes you.

No, I’m not mad. Mad is what I would have felt maybe last year, or the year before. Mad is what I would have allowed myself to feel maybe even mere months ago. And it’s okay. It’s okay to not be mad. Because I’m not.

What I am, it is not the same as mad. It’s a fine line in between mad and sad. It’s this weird limbo effect that you can’t explain. Hell, you don’t even know if there’s a word for it, but there probably is. It’s a murky, numb feeling. It’s a feeling that makes you look at the world and look at your hands and think ‘Why?’ ‘What did I do wrong?’ ‘What could I have done differently?’ ‘Would I be happier if I did things another way?’ ‘Would I be okay?’ ‘Would things be better?’

No. No, no, no I’m not mad. Not even a little bit. I’m frustrated. I’m bitter. I’m sad. And I’m hurt. But don’t misjudge my words before. I am also proud, glad, and wish you well.

But I also know the price of what has happened. I know what the joys are. And I know what the befallen is. I know in my heart that being proud of one while resenting and demeaning the other is the path you’ve so very obviously chosen. It’s a line well crossed onto the farthest side from me. It’s a picture painted that you’re getting everything you wanted now, but none of it was the person you so truly believed would have. It’s a celebration on the behalf of those who worked so hard and became your picture of perfection and glory. And on the other, it’s a loss and a despising glance for the one you see as ruining their very existence and living in the black pit of wrongness.

No. I am not mad. I wish you well and I hope that you get everything you’ve ever wanted and I truly hope that you are everything they wanted. I hope you succeed above all else and I hope that you get to experience wonderful things in this life. I also hope that you thrive, you live, and you breathe what’s all around you. Don’t close your mind off like them. Be open, be accepting, be loving, and be ready. The world is not as black and white as you know it to be. And the world doesn’t revolve around one singular race or orientation. Open your heart, and you’ll find yourself among the best of the best. I hope that day comes for you.

So celebrate in your successes, and say how proud you are. I know I am, but I know what the far reached of your minds are also thinking. What a difference between the two and what a huge failure one over the other has become. How you wish my life was infinitely more different than that of what is happening now. How you wish that I would have turned around and ran backwards. How I should have just . . . stopped living. Stopped breathing. Stop being me. It’s a loss and it’s a failure you can’t seem to let go. But it’s okay. I’m not mad.

I like it here. And I like it here a lot. It’s not always easy, but it’s the best and happiest I have felt or been in a very long time. I have experiences I never thought possible. I have friends who love me and understand my best and worst. I have a wonderful boyfriend, amazing chances, and even more still yet to come. I love it here. And I wish you could, too.

So no. I’m not mad. Not even a little bit. The hatred and hurt in my heart and chest have become too much to carry anymore. It becomes sadness, it becomes a numbing distance throb. It becomes longing and wishful thinking. It just becomes heavy until something pulls my mind away from it all. So don’t worry.

Because no, I’m not mad.

I am just balanced. I am collected. I am rational.

And those, oh all of those. They are all simply just the opposite.

It’s a New Dawn, It’s a New Day

It’s officially 2017, and people everywhere are making resolutions or changes to their life. A new them, a new life, a better them, a better life. If only I could take that advice for my own self and sanity.


My boyfriend, Bobby, is visiting for the first time upstate with me. We just celebrated our 4-year anniversary on January 3rd as we flew back on the same day. Weeks beforehand, I had gotten back into talking with my sister pretty regularly. It was fun and light, like old times. I figured maybe we could pay a visit up for her birthday (Jan 13th) some weekend. My parents didn’t care and my sister wanted to play Overwatch with us, anyways. I figured why not? They’re being civil. It’s a new year. Things have been . . . decent. Same as always. Even though I shouldn’t even be trying. It’s like I’m trying too hard for something that’s ever reaching. I still want to try. And it’s ridiculous. It suddenly feels like I’m just doing this for fun. Like I keep going back for more. More of what? I don’t know.


It’s freezing and I don’t drive. I figured if things were seemingly so decent, I would ask for a ride to the closest WalMart so that Bobby and I wouldn’t have to carry groceries onto the bus, then haul ass in the fucking cold to the house carrying like 30lbs of groceries. My mom told me she couldn’t until Sunday because of busy stuff and to ask my grandmother.




I refuse to do that or go anywhere fucking NEAR that option. Never. Not with the way my grandmother has no filter. It would be fucking anxiety damaging not only to Bobby with invasive questions and misgendering, but the both of us. I refuse. My parents and sister are honestly pushing it. But like I said. They’ve seemingly been decent and my sister seemed like she wanted us to come up.


Now. Now I’m having second thoughts about going up at all.


It’s this ridiculous, stupid game and cycle I cannot seem to bust myself out of. It’s a prison I keep tunneling myself out of, only to find my way right back into my cell. It’s too comfortable. It’s too familiar. It’s too much of what I want to keep in my hands. Yes, I want to dig my way out with a  plastic spork, but at the same time I want to stay. I thought maybe going up on my sister’s birthday weekend, playing video games, joking around, talking about stuff might be the okay thing to do. Now I’m just feeling unsure and on edge. It wouldn’t be fair to Bobby or myself to try and go up and have a time then I feel miserable for three days straight later. Just like with Thanksgiving. I feel a disaster either way it works out. And I fucking hate it. I hate going back for more, more, more and hoping things change or things aren’t as tense. I don’t think anything will ever change, but I still keep slamming my head against the wall, hoping that if I bleed and bruise enough something is going to give.


I know I have posted about this several times before, and I repeat what’s here, like a broken record. But it’s true. And it’s so hard and terrifying to sort out. I have to seek therapy in February (yay wait lists) but I don’t know what that’s going to come out like. I don’t know if one therapist will be good enough. I don’t know if I would have to seek a LGBT+ counselor for that type of familial struggle. Why I keep doing this aside from them wanting to love and accept me. Why I keep beating my head against so many walls.


I was so confident about this visit. Now I’m just wanting to drop everything and run.


It’s a new year. A new day, a new month, a new week. And I keep doing the same old song and dance. A mistake repeated more than once, is a decision. I don’t know why I keep hurting myself and regretting everything later. I don’t know why I keep making these “mistakes”. I don’t know why I’m so deliberate and persistent. Or maybe I do. I know what I want from them. I know I want change. I know I want something out of all this. Something back. Something solid.


I said it before: my LGBT community and friends and Bobby are my family. But it never, ever, ever is the same. And they know that. I know that. I can’t tear myself apart from 25 years of knowing what I had, all religious stuff and crazy stupidness aside. I notice things going on that I wouldn’t have gotten away with growing up in the house. I notice a lot of things. And for whatever reason, I want back in. I want everyone back. I’m addicted to the toxicity because I want them to accept me and I want solidarity and somewhere to live and all of these other things. Even when I know it’s bad. Even when I know it’s going to literally put me in the ground one of these days. My dilemma is the addiction I have to them. Abuse, or whatever you want to call it . . .  it’s an addiction problem. In the same instance of a romantic relationship that is abusive. You want out, but you love that person. You want it to work.  You want to go back. You want everything you had once. You want more. You keep hoping, praying, hitting your head on walls. It’s addictive. It’s damaging. You want to see the good in them. You want change. You hope for it. But you never know if it will come.


I have a lot of things I want to do in this year. 2017 , I feel , will be okay. Maybe not great for a lot of people, but for myself personally I want to make it work. I want all of 2016’s bullfuck that happened to me to get long forgotten. I have plans, things I want to accomplish this year, things to learn, things to experience. Coming here with Bobby was an amazing first start to this year. A very happy, positive thing. I want that to continue. And in doing so, I want to know what I have to do about the relative situation. How to break my bind, how to avoid those walls, and how to embrace being okay without them. It’s not going to be this entire year and done. It’ll take me years to sort it all out and learn. But if I can start, then that’s all I want. I thought I was done. I thought I was going to be okay. I kept going back. I kept begging. I kept bruising myself. Kept bleeding out and patching it up with a bandage and going on my way.


I don’t know what’s going to happen in 2017. I don’t know if I will accomplish everything I set out to do. I don’t know if I’ll be able to drop everything and sort my jars again and clean out my closets and folders. I don’t. Nobody knows what the next day will bring. Nothing is guaranteed. But I can work. I can work on me. I can work on my mental and emotional health. I can work on being me. And I can work on moving forward from here, wherever and whenever that will be.


It’s a new day. It’s a new dawn. It’s a new year. And I hope it will be a new life.


For me.

Hashtag: Relatable (LGBTQ)

It’s the holidays, which means I’ve been thinking a lot. Even more so, having gotten into a fandom recently, which sounds funny and stupid, but sit tight.


I don’t get along with a large portion of my “family” (I use that term loosely) anymore. This has a lot to do with me being a LGBTQ individual and falling out of the Christian faith. I am a FtM (female to male) transgender person who is Panromantic and asexual. This is all kinds of ‘nope’ on the scale. I know what they think of me. I know what they say. I am not their son/brother/grandson/nephew. I am practically nobody to them. I’m a fucking stranger. I lived with them for only four months this past summer and it was a nightmare. It was like I wasn’t the same person. It was like they hated me. It was like . . . I was invisible.


That being said, I know it’s not hate hate. It feels like hate, it really does. But more or less it’s . . . confusion? Religion? Uncertainty? Maybe more. They don’t know what to do with the information. They don’t know how to act. And truth be told: that’s bullshit. They know how to act. It’s 2016, there’s more than enough information for them. I belong to a wonderful group at my local Q Center that provides services for LGBT and parents alike. They have ways. They just don’t want to bother. They don’t want to know me. They want to keep the old me. I’m still ex-legal name called. I’m still she/her. And I fear that’s all I’ll ever be to them. That poor, sick, hospital ridden disabled little girl.


One of my biggest hated statements from religious people is “love the sinner, hate the sin”. The amount of times I’ve heard: “we still love you both (I have a gay cousin), but that doesn’t necessarily we agree or accept with that you’re doing”. That’s total garbage. You don’t get to pick and choose the parts of a person to love, related or not. Not to bring religious text into this, since I’m basically speaking against it in light of my relatives, however it is important to note that the Bible states: Suppose someone claims to love God but hates a brother or sister. Then they are a liar. They don’t love their brother or sister, whom they have seen. So they can’t love God, whom they haven’t seen. – 1 John 4:20


I’ll let you sit on that one.


This is not to say, at all, that I don’t miss them. Any of them. It’s not like a bad relationship you just got out of in the last few months. This is 20+ years of my life with these people. It’s not that easy to forget , drop , cut ties and move along. I’ve tried for the last 7+ years of my transitioning. I’ve also tried to reason, help, and educate. All with failure. It’s natural for me to want to still have that . . . family. That sense of being loved and belonging. Even though I have met some wonderful people at my center who are my family. Even though I have a great boyfriend of 5 years who is my family. Even though I have an amazing cat who would do anything to help me, and me to him. It’s never the same. It will never be the same. And when the holidays come around, that just makes it all the more complicated.


I thought that I had paid my dues after this past summer. I had sworn off contact and was ready to move on. But like I said before, it’s the holidays. People always pop in and out randomly around this time of year. And for me, that makes it so very difficult to distinguish what’s okay and what’s not. My relationship with my relatives is nothing short of toxic. Growing up in a strict Christian home where Halloween was demonic and I had to sit in a dark, silent house every fucking October 31st, where sex isn’t talked about or educated on, and a whole lot more . . . well you get the general fix.


I attended thanksgiving dinner at my aunt’s house this November. I had gone back and forth for days before deciding to dive in. I was probably going to be hurt either way. Why I was doing this to myself, I’ll never know. But I went and nothing went wrong. You would think that’s awesome.


Here’s the thing, though. It was too good. It was everything I wanted back into my life. No fighting, no craziness, no stupid comments. Nothing. Not even when my grandmother came over for a few moments. Nothing. Was. Wrong. And I hadn’t spoken to anyone since the stupid whatever fight bullshit that happened back in June. Even after all of my couch hopping having to leave bad rooming situation after bad rooming situation. Even when I found myself (still) potentially homeless and not knowing where I would be. I vowed to never go back, and let me tell you. Living back in that house seemed better than my current situation of not knowing where I would be n two weeks. I didn’t waver. I didn’t crumble. Not until I went to dinner. They still don’t know what I’ve been going through the last almost 6 months. I haven’t had a stable place to live since August when I left visiting my boyfriend for the summer.


I wanted all of that back. I wanted to be best friends with my sister again. I wanted everything. I wanted love. I wanted acceptance. I wanted fun. I wanted a family. And I had it. For all of about seven hours. It was wonderful. It was everything I wanted.


Then the days following hit me. All of the good things I wanted. How amazing it felt. How complete I was. But on the backside, the photo. My mother had asked one of my cousins to take a picture of the four of us. Me, my sister, my mother and my father. I hadn’t noticed a damn thing of it until after that day. How . . . collected and okay I looked. How awkward and still everyone else was. I was so elated in that moment that there was a picture, regardless that. I didn’t notice anything else but the moment. I felt crushed. I had a total of eight people come to me one, two days later telling me about that photo. I can’t look at it anymore.


My mother is sending me Xmas gifts. I don’t know how she’s going to address it. I don’t know what she’s going to write on the package. I don’t know what anything will read. And it terrifies and hurts me.


I’ve recently gotten into a fandom of where there’s a couple characters to whom I share a lot of the same characteristics of. As a writer, that’s kind of important to me, though a lot of people find it so childish and dumb. But it helps a large portion of fans and writers and viewers alike. I think it’s really important to find yourself in things like that. It helps, it really does.


In the same instance, per this fandom, I’m reading a lengthy fic for it. That’s kind of what drove me to write this out even more. I had already planned on it, but I finished a particular chapter that had me really relating to not one, but both main characters.


For my own purposes, I’m not going to mention outright fandom names and such. I will, however, abbreviate the characters as to not get confusing.


KK is one of the characters I honestly didn’t click with right away, diving into the show itself and the fandom. He wasn’t an instant ‘yes!’ like the other main I instantly found myself to be a lot like. I don’t know where along the lines I had started to see myself more and more into this character, but I’m pretty sure it had to do a lot with the fan theories and his overall backstory that could be very soon revealed.


It’s a bit of a difference between my situation and that of KK’s, but it rings with me all the same true. KK has no family, he has no known parents, or anything of that nature. That is solely the fact that he is an orphan. Me, by no means is. However, the longing KK has for wanting to belong somewhere, to someone, to a group, to a family has me roped in. I understand full well all of the ideas, the theories, the stories, and the little hints from the writers and producers and acting itself. Nobody wants to feel like they have nothing. That they belong nowhere.


One of the first/main lines of KK’s when we meet him that kind of punched me in the face very recently was: “After getting booted from ____ I was kind of… lost.”

This entire year for me has been going from one boot to the other. Things gone wrong, nowhere to go. Feeling lost and hopeless. Having to go back to a place I swore I’d never go. Even after finding myself going to the center and having people there who genuinely cared and loved, it still wasn’t the same. I still felt lost. I still felt incomplete. I still felt like I was lacking family. And as much as I hate thinking about them so often and thinking about how they have behaved with me, around me, and what they say/think of me, it doesn’t mean that I don’t miss what we had. It’s human. It’s human to want, it’s human to grieve, it’s human to fall back.


KK has a “family” now, for all purposes of the show. He’s a part of something great, much like I find myself a part of something amazing in the LGBTQ community with everyone I have met this year. But it’s not the same, as I’ve already said. It won’t be the same throughout the show for KK, either. He doesn’t know who he is, where he’s been, and has never had that strong and secure connection with family before. I’ve had my connections up and down with everyone. But it was never secure. It was never strong outside of me being a sickly child. Everything was different with me. And it always was. It felt foreign, and it’s even worse now. Though I have a family . . . using the word stings. I’m not used to all the attention. The love, the hugging, the interest in who I am and what I like. It’s . . . it’s all new to me. It’s something I have to condition myself. That they actually want me around as me. Not as who they lived with for the last 20 years.


There’s a lot of fine differences, like I said, between myself and KK. But the fact still stands of family. Who do we really have? Can we really have what was lost? How can we move past the hurt? How can we learn to love again? How can we be a part of something amazing without aching? What can we do to better ourselves and grow? What is okay? What is not? Do we move on and let go, or do we hold tight and hope that something changes? To be honest, I hope the show plays more into KK’s life a little. Backstory, struggle, what he wants, what will happen, if he will change, if he isn’t who he thinks he really is . . . all of that and more. KK has suddenly become this complex and amazing character that at first, I totally glanced right over.


The next character I’m going to look into is LM. A character I glazed over mostly because I saw my boyfriend in him the most. But there’s a little trickle of a silver stream in him for me, too. And this happened to come around the more (again) fan theories came out and stumbling into a fanfic that was recommended to me. Per the last chapter I read, as well. I got a lot of thinking coming out.


LM is a bisexual character. Though not firmly foot down in canon, it’s seemingly to become very canon and the fandom, producers, writers, and voice actors took it very much in stride and may run with it. Even if it’s not blatant, it’s very much a giant reality everyone shares. Which, in today’s world and media is amazing in of itself.


So clearly, most of what I’m going to write about this is mostly coming from the fanfic itself, however the case still remains of the character himself.


In the very last chapter I read of this fanfic, there was a lot of resonation for me. Again, on both sides of the mains who are LM and KK. But since I already spoke of KK in canon, it leaked the same tone into the fic itself.


For LM in this particular chapter, it’s very much how I opened up this blog. His father doesn’t understand his sexuality and is very verbal about it. Having wanted LM to grow out of it, change, “pick a gender”, and the likes. It was super realistic writing, beautifully done and elo quent. Believable, relatable, and with tons of feeling. It wasn’t the fact of so much that LM’s father hated him, but couldn’t fully understand and see that there was so much more to LM than sexuality and orientation. This is what I opened up with on my own relatives.


There’s a lot more to my own relatives , like religion , that plays into their hate. Now, it was stated throughout the chapter that LM’s father didn’t particularly hate him, but LM just didn’t register that. It was hate to him. Much like how I feel with my own parents/relatives. It was more or less that of confusion, misunderstanding, and not seeing LM as a whole person. Not just his sexuality. That, I feel, is a large portion of my own situation as well as many others in the LGBTQ community with some obvious variations depending on your home life.


There’s a lot that parents/relatives don’t understand about the LGBTQ world around them. It’s “new” to them even though it really isn’t. LGBTQ ideals and persons are just more vivid now because it’s 2016. No more hiding. We’re here and we’re real and we deserve love and acceptance. Sadly, that isn’t the case for so many. I know how that feels. But you keep fighting and you find people you can connect with who love you for you. It will never be the same and you’ll want to continue trying to connect with family and educate them. That’s okay. But if they won’t turn around and you feel they never will, it’s hard pressed to say it’s time to turn away.


If only I took my own advice.


One of the lines in the chapter from LM was that of context in that him being Bi wasn’t at all the whole of who he was. It’s just a portion. He listed off all of the other things he was and added being Bi as a normalcy. That’s something so many parents and others don’t understand. Me? I love cats. Always have. My entire life has been about cats. Cats, gothic style, writing, drumming, obsessing over shows/movies . . . and you know what? All of that I still do! I’m still me, regardless of gender and sexual identity. Me being transgender is only a portion of who I am as a whole. And much like in the story, my relatives/parents are only seeing the transgender part and that’s basically all I am. It’s straw-vision and it’s damaging.


It might seem silly to you to compare a lot of my real life/real time situations to these characters and their show or fic verse situations. However, as a writer, it’s super important to me as I said before.


For example: if you watch a movie or read a book and you can’t find connections with the story or character(s), then what’s the point? The creator didn’t do their job as a creator. As a writer, a painter, a person of film, an actor . . . anything of that nature it is our job to make things relatable. To see yourself as this situation or person(s) and make you think. Make you feel. Make you relate. I think that in today’s world it’s seen as so silly or childish. When really, it’s more of a coping and a comfort. We can see ourselves as these characters, these people and these situations and find comfort. Even if it’s hurtful. Because you know you’re not alone and you can submerge yourself in the character, the movie, the book, the game, the fandom or wherever. It’s so important not only to us, but to creators.


KK and LM are only two of a whole messy bunch for me. There are many more from other creative content. One more itself even from the same verse as KK and LM. It reminds me that I’m not the only one who has these types of issues. Though fiction most of the time, yes, the content is real. You can sink your teeth into it and find reality. Realness in fiction is my favorite thing to see. Because if you can’t have some sense of reality in a fictional world, then it’s just fantasy. It’s not relatable. It’s lacking feeling. As a writer, I try to pour out as much of myself as I can into my content. Whether it’s characterization or setting. I do my best to make it real. Make it relatable. Make it worth your time.


There are days where I want to turn around and run backwards. I want that sense of family again without strain, worry, awkwardness, and wondering. I find myself lost. I find myself wondering what they’re doing now. What they’re thinking. Do they miss me? Do they think of me? I find myself sitting down in KK’s position and trying to dull away the ache. The longing.


There are days where I wonder if being trans is worth it. That maybe if I wasn’t, I’d still have a roof over my head for more than just a week at a time. That I would have that fun back. That they would see me as a human fucking person. And not only that but being trans and diving my feet into the world of drag. It’s completely nerve wracking knowing that at any moment anyone can find me and start a verbal war. Making me wonder if I’m valid. If all I ever am is just trans. If that’s all the person that I am, and nothing else. If they truly do hate me and aren’t just being stubborn, confused, and unsure. Those are days I find myself in LM’s head per the story.
There’s a lot of mixture for me. A lot of feeling, a lot of thinking, a lot of finding stories or characters. Pointing and nodding saying ‘yes, I can relate’. It’s hard to sort myself out a lot of times. But I find comfort as weird as it seems. As much as it hurts when I sit down, look at a character and go ‘that’s me’. Sometimes it’s painful, the ache in my chest when I realize how relatable I can get to someone. Whether it’s live action or 2D. And I can’t exactly say why it gets aching. Maybe it’s because I feel for that person or character and want to see things get better for them. Maybe it’s another reason. I can’t say for certain. But in a weird way, it always helps. Even after the breaking point.

I don’t know if I’ll ever make amends with anyone. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make amends with myself. I can’t say if anything will work out a week from now or ten years from now. If it does, I’ll be happy. If not, I’ll have to learn how to get along. It’s a tough spot and it’s one where I wish I knew what to do. I guarantee after the holidays I won’t hear a word from anyone until my birthday. Which is kind of bullshit. I’ve barely had a text back from anyone since Thanksgiving. I don’t get it, none of it makes any sense to me. And it’s all so terrifying and hurtful. I don’t ever know what to do and when I find myself on the healing path, I get hit in the face with a swing back door. Just about every single time, too.


There’s so much I have to do. Sand to sift through and rocks to toss aside. I have to stop picking up water in my hands and trying to run with it while everyone watches and laughs. It gets nobody anywhere and it makes my longing, my aching, and my self validation turn on itself.

However, no matter what goes on around me and what my head tells me, this much I do know. There’s always growing to do, especially with yourself. You can always learn, you can always stumble. You can always pick yourself back up. You can always lay down for a while and allow yourself to feel. It’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to cry. But if that’s all you do, then you’re stunting your growth. There are days where I wanna lay down and say ‘that’s it’. There are days where I wonder about the world without me here. What would happen. What would be said. Who would miss me, who wouldn’t. There are days where I think that there’s nothing more to do than to give into whatever my relatives/parents want. Erase myself, go back to them, go to church . . . give in. Maybe then it would fix everything.

Lying to yourself is a horrible thing to do. And I do it too often. When I pick myself back up, somehow I feel on top of the world, even if it’s just for a little while. I forget about what’s going on. I forget about them. I look at my friends. I look at my boyfriend. I look at my cat. I look at the family I do have, much like KK, and laugh. I live. I let myself flow. Even if it’s just for a little while, there’s always someone that can make me laugh harder than I have in a while. Always someone to grab me and tell me to cool my jets. Someone to look out for me. Someone to care. Someone to take on my moods. Someone to relax me. There’s always something, always someone. And more often than not, I forget that. And I think KK does, too.

I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next year. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next five to ten. But that’s going to have to be okay. I’m going to have to roll with the punches and the high fives. Every low, every high, every in between. Learn to grow, learn to love, and learn to live. Whatever happens between me and the relationship I have with the relatives is going to be whatever it is. Whatever I decide, whatever happens, whatever I can do. It’s not an easy road, the one I have ahead of me. There’s a lot that I have to do. There’s a lot I have to sort through and let go of. I don’t want to think about it, but sadly it’s the reality. If I want to heal, I have to start now. And it sucks, because I want them to accept and love me. I want them to know me. And I want that family and sense of belonging back.


It’s a tricky fine line. Between what you want and what you need.


And in my reality, in my fiction . . . I just hope that it’s a crossroads I can firmly decide upon.