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Lately things have been one big cluster fuck of shit. I feel like I have been knocked down and people, and life keep kicking and kicking and beating. I feel so much like this that that is the reason that I have titled this the way that I have.

Every time it seems like I am getting my shit together, life goes hey…cut that shit out. Be down and out. So that is where I am. I finally got an apartment. I got a bed. (After 2 years of having been sleeping on couches or futons.) I got a new and better paying job. And then shit just hits the fucking fan. I start to climb up and someone pulls the ground from beneath my feet, and then I find ground again to tread…and someone causes an avalanche…and I fall and hit every single rock (or large chunk of ice) on the way down, until I am buried.

I feel so overwhelmed. I know things will eventually get better. Or I am super delusional in thinking that things will work themselves out and get better. People keep telling me things will. The more faith I have had in people the more I have fallen back.

My wife and I have decided to open our relationship only to have exclusive relationships with whomever (1 partner (long term) each). Because I feel like she needs to be okay to be who she was always forced away from being. It’s hard. I am not going to say that it is not, because it is, but we both have needs that NEED to be met and they cannot be met by each other. Who knows how well that will go. I am hopeful it will go well.

I am in love with someone else (though not more than Gabby), and I am hoping eventually he will come around and things will work. That would be great. I am also hopeful that Gabby finds someone that she can look at and feel safe in a way that I cannot provide her. In the way that I used to look at her when she presented as him and just felt peace. I don’t feel that anymore, and neither does she.

So, sorry this has been like word vomit, but here is to hoping that things get better. As of now things are kind of settled down, but everything keeps falling on me solely, and that shit is hard. Because I am not a super duper strong person…or at least I can’t be all the time.

Alright then.



(on a side note this made me feel quite a bit better)





My Wife is Trans

She is beautiful, and she is familiar, but she is also entirely new. I love her with more of my heart than I loved her as him. I am terrified for us in our current political climate, but I know her and I will survive this transition. I look forward to her every single day. I look forward to her development, to her makeup, to her outfits. I look forward, not back.

Do you ever feel like no matter what you do or how you try to escape you are always being followed by gloom? It seems like every single week I get some sort of bad news, or chaos in my life. Like those skittles commercials where the clouds follow people around and rain down skittles for them, and lightning to others. Mine only rains rain and it’s constantly pouring only on me, my own cloud doesn’t like me. I am trying so hard to live. I am trying so hard to know myself and to find myself, but I can’t seem to move. It feels as if my feet are stuck in wet cement, and sometimes I am the one who accidentally pours more heaps on. I’m sinking. Some days are so good that I feel like nothing can touch me, but some days are so bad that I feel like everyone is hurting me. I’m stuck in my head, in my prison, in my cage, without any sort of escape. Freedom and happiness are more just empty words with no value most of the time. I know I don’t have to feel this way, I know some people can get over things, but I can’t jump hurdles. I fall every time. Days are hard. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I can only be…this me. I’m hoping for a change. I’m praying for a good outlook, I shouldn’t feel this way. I am fully aware of that, but I know there will always be monsters chasing me, and that little girl I used to be is so far ahead of me I can’t catch up. I don’t know if I want to find that part of me and put her through these things again…if I don’t do that I don’t know if I will ever be able to move past this mountain…I don’t know who I am, only what I could have been without being broken. I know monsters, and I know hurt. I know my own prison, but I know she’s got the key. Do I stay this way forever, by going through more pain to overcome the pain that presently exists do I have to remember and fight it all over again? Will that make me stronger? Will that find my happy? Will I ever forgive myself? I don’t think it a suitable thing to do.

I used to say

I used to say to everyone, one day everyone will know my name. I wonder what I’ll be known for? I know it will be good, or at least I hope and am 99.99999 percent sure that it will be. That feeling is haunting me again that someday I will be known throughout, I still have no idea. My hope solely is that one day I can know myself. I am coming to what feels like at least a midpoint of this maze. It’s about damn time. Being lost within ones self is not as luxurious as it may sound. Ha, I guess it doesn’t really sound luxurious…that term was entirely incorrectly used. Not to use this as an excuse, even though this next statement will make that last a truth to my being condemned as a hypocrite, but I have anxiety and it makes me ramble on about things that are absolutely nothings…. My perception of reality is different from yours though, so there is that. It’s weird fighting monsters all your life and then just deciding to try and make peace with the monsters you took part in creating…. I promise there isn’t anything wrong with me. I am as normal as normal can be…all because normality isn’t a real thing that can exist, because for that to be a truthful thing every single person in this entire world would have to be exactly the same, and that wouldn’t be so great now would it? Sometimes blogs turn into elaborate conversations with myself. At least it’s better than having these conversations within my own head. I don’t talk to other people, just write quietly and shy. I won’t talk to you in person, so if you want to know me read me.



My father had a heart attack on April 21st 2014. It was the worst day (or so I thought) that I had ever experienced. I have never even seen my Dad sick, and the first time I see him sick he is in the hospital having a heart attack. Now I am not one who takes anything that comes close to death lightly, and I never have. I have always been horrified at the idea of anyone dying, but I have never in my life seen my parents as vulnerable. I have never looked at them as human. In this I mean in my mind I have always thought about them dying, but it was never a reality. Now it is, and I am completely shattered. I can’t focus on anything, because all I see are memories of my dad, and then my mind goes right to the fact that now I know he could die at any moment, and I have had the audacity to argue with him in the past, to ignore his words of wisdom because I thought I knew better, to avoid him for some reason usually because I was angry over something stupid. I have this gut wrenching feeling now that will not leave me. The only response to this resounding constant fear is to live for now, but that does not do me any good. I don’t think I will ever understand why we live in a world where no matter how much we love someone and we pray and we grow with them, no matter how much of anything that we do, we cannot keep those that we love the most around us. One day they will be gone, and one day so will I. When I was a little girl I used to pray every single night that I would die before my parents do, because back then I couldn’t imagine life without them, and I have realized in my adult life that though I do not want to die, I do not want to know the day where I do not know them. They created me. The thought of having to come to a day where I lose my parents is overwhelming. I don’t know how I am supposed to move forward when forward only leads to pain. This is not me saying I am going to kill myself, I don’t want to die. I have a life to live, I just want them to be in it. I want all of those missed moments back. I want every single good, and bad, and I want to stick around. They say that those we love do not die as long as we let them live on in our hearts, but not having my dad here to hug or to see smile, or to hear laugh is a complete devastation to me, and he isn’t even gone. He made it through his heart attack, and he has a stint in now, but now I see that he is human, and he is weak, and he can be frail, and that hurts more than I ever thought it could. Reality is a hard burden to bear.