goodbye

All good things must come to an end.

I believe that time has come for this blog.

It started out I needed it.

I needed 'you', the reader I didn't know.

I needed support from those who have walked the same path as I.

I needed to see my counter go up, up, up, every day from readers I don't know from here to Russia, in hopes that they would show me how to love myself and be proud of who I am.

I needed so much love.

I believe I've found that love, for myself.

I've fought through the tears of those in an entire 'community' who intentionally hurt me.

I've fought through the tears of losing my butch.

I've fought the good fight with anorexia and depression, and I still continue to give my chemical imbalance a work out, only now it's with a machete instead of boxing gloves.

Still, none of that changes the fact that I've needed a life change to change me.

Oh, how I got it.

It's time to move forward.

It's time to finish writing those novels I started.

Maybe on the balcony with my morning coffee as I look out at the white noise.

It's time to get up in the morning and turn on my programs to compose music just like I did before the motorcycle accident.

Which is really why we are here.

To have a life beyond the suffering I was dealt from my bitch of a back.

I'm almost at the 5 year mark of healing from that disaster.

My Living Day Anniversary.

It can't heal my brain injury and subsequent memory fail and loss of balance, but I can strive for the life I once led.

As a different person.

I have changed.

We all change.

We all grow, if we try.

I grew.

It's time to put that growth to music now that I have the ability, with the help of loving tropical heat, to sit to do so.

I'm not saying I won't return.

Of course I need my soapbox every once in a while.

My opinions are strong and I lead them with conviction, regardless of how many people try to silence me.

Perhaps it's time to start a wave here?

Power to women?

Power to those with cancer and chronic pain who are denied the simple, ethical relief from that hell I know so well.

To not give local anesthesia to a child who needs stitches in his head is barbaric.

I've suffered 4 months of pain of a torn ankle ligament without meds.

Perhaps I need to make some pain relief in the form of cookies to help those who need it.

There's a lot in this country that could use a voice.

I may keep my voice for here.

Or, I may just knowingly live with the 'rules', then break them.

I don't know.

What I do know, is it's time to step away from my morning ritual of blogging.

I'm not saying goodbye to 'you'.

I'm just saying it' time to start that New Life List.

i am the only 'sign' i need

My Living Day

Yesterday was my Living Day Anniversary.

I only figured it out around noon, though.

For the past month, I didn't look forward to the day coming.

Especially when My Ghost showed up to remind me of my day coming up, but the day went better than I expected.

I suppose it went well, because I didn't know it was the day.

Ignorance is bliss.

On this day every year, I usually think about what I've lost.  Not on purpose, but it's just that the day has been very traumatic to think of, and the flashbacks are awful.  From there it goes into the pain, from there into all I've had to work for, and right smack dab into loss.

I couldn't help it.  I would compare myself to My Ghost

Yet somehow, that didn't happen yesterday, even though, on this day I had to walk really slow.  Oh yes, the Limping Lesbian was in full force.

Sometimes, when I'm walking really slow from pain, I just turn my headphones up a little louder and appreciate what I'm hearing.

I walk as if I'm just enjoying the music, and that I have nowhere to be on time.

I dawdle.

I meander.

I've learned that in my new life, there are no emergencies.

I don't run for buses.  If it happens to be in most people's 'running distance', I watch them run, then I think to myself, "Well, I wasn't meant to be on that one."

Hell, I don't usually get across the intersection in time for the light to change.  I just eye the cars who are inching their way toward me, dying to turn right, but there's this dawdling woman, annoyingly crossing the street WAY TOO SLOW!!!!

Fuckers!  Wait till they're 100 years old and see how hard it is to walk with a bitch of a back!!!

Anyway, I don't see the loss in my life as much now.

I suppose I've really grown into the new 'me' over the past 4 years, and that's why My Ghost is here.  It's safe to have her with me.

Perhaps, it's because I have a new start to look forward to.  That could be it too.

Here is what I've gained:

I've learned how to be a friend.  I don't have music to put before friendship anymore.

I've learned that there are really good people in this world.  I've had the time to find them.

I've gained gratitude.  I'm so grateful I made it through.  I have a 2nd chance at life.

I've become much nicer to myself, even when the mirror lies.

I've learned how to enjoy life, and learned how to relax, even if it's forced.

I've allowed myself to feel my emotions and not be so afraid of them.

Mind you, that last one gets a little help from good ol' Prozac.

Anyway, it was my Living Day Anniversary.  The day I didn't die.

The day I was given a 2nd chance to live life the way I was meant to, even when I'm limping around and wincing.

I guess it being my day would explain the comfort food eating of one massive pot of rice pasta last night.

At least I can get comfort from rice pasta, not a bucket of mock ice cream.

Anyway, 4 years ago, I was granted the opportunity to live life the way it was meant to be.

For my gift for my day, I wish for every person to be granted everything I've been granted, without having to go through the trauma and hard work of re-wiring their brain.

Live life well everyone!

That's the secret to happiness.

i find deep inner peace within myself as i am

My Ghost

There's a ghost in my machine.

I'm not sure if anyone else is experiencing this on Facebook, but it's really unnerving and a bit too uncanny to think about it as an accident.

4 summers ago, I was a carefree, budding rockstar on my motorcycle.

I had my first motorcycle and I rode in it in the Dykes on Bikes segment of the 2008 parade.

The delight I felt I can't even express.

I'd wanted a motorcycle all my life, since I first saw my uncle with his Norton.  The first day he had it, he brought it by to show us.  My dad asked if he could try it, and within seconds, my father had driven it right into our fence and knocked it down.

That was the moment I wanted one.  Strange omen.

Every single person I was partnered with was dead against me having one.

Then finally.  Finally!  I met the person who would help me learn to ride and I got my first bike.  Thank you Papi.  You were the first person to allow me that freedom.

When I'd come out to start her up on the morning, her lines looked like a great smile greeting me.  I would greet her back, "Hellllloooooo my pretty!!!!  Ready for a ride?!?!?!?!"

The indulgence I felt!  It was amazing!  I was never a hellion, because riding fast meant that you got from point A to point B too quickly, and the ride would be over.

I would just take my time and enjoy every little wind gust that would reach through my helmet to my hair.

I envisioned myself with long hair, and even though I didn't have any, I could still imagine it singing, 'thwack thwack thwack' on the sides of my half helmet.

I would smile the smile of a Cheshire Cat the whole time I was in motion.  People probably thought I was a bit on the demented side, but I knew life had finally come to a place where I got what I wanted.

That ride in the 2008 Pride Parade was like it was meant for me.  I felt pretty, sexy and strong!

A girl and her bike.

The day of the parade, my love took my picture.  There, in living colour you could see my joy as I proudly posed on my new best friend who was everything to me, other than the sexy soul behind the camera.

My bike and I were one.

I had that picture on Facebook for quite some time.  The satisfaction was just too strong for me to take that pic down.

Flash forward to the past few weeks, four years later.

Someway, somehow, that Facebook pic from 2008 seems to keep appearing on my Facebook wall, without anybody changing it.  It started out when I'd log in on my phone, and now, it's on my computer.  I've had MANY pictures to replace that one since that summer, but someway, somehow, this single picture keeps appearing.

Then she's gone and I see myself with my gun again.

She's a ghost.

The girl in that photo isn't the same.  She can't rock out on stage anymore.  She can't work a full time job anymore.  Christ!  Some days she can't even pick up the chihuahua!

Then there's the spirit of my bike.

I've never even seen the wreckage she became.  I was asked to look a few times and I couldn't.  Even know, just thinking of the crumpled mass of steel she became breaks my heart.

So, why?

Why does this picture keep haunting me?

Maybe it's time to let her go.  Maybe I need to find some love for her.

Maybe this tear that is falling right now is because there's another level of healing to do, no?  My Living Day Anniversary is coming up in 6 days and I need to find more acceptance.

Or, perhaps it's time to honour her.

The girl I was has to be blessed and the woman I am now has to be admired.

My Ghost.

all false images of myself from the past are now dissolved

Tranny Talk and Straight Porn.

After my Living Day Anniversary breakdown, I've calmed down and am back to obsessing about other things.

ah ocd ... never a dull moment of crazed thinking ... it's just good entertainment ...

I've stopped gorging to avoid the fear, and am now back on track with my diet, complete with the zits and dark circles under my eyes and narcoleptic tendencies.

Not to mention I'm wearing my fat pants right now.

You know, I didn't realize I was gorging and being a lunatic about my Living Day Anniversary until after the fact, and that I'm not the only one who freaks about the Discovery.

You see, we visited one of the absolute sweetest couples we know.

It's been a long time coming.  We've tried to make a hangout work forever, but last night was the magical night that it all came together.

And a beautiful night it was.

It was one on one time, and I didn't sob my eyes out when I started talking about this blog and Papi's transformation.

The best part of the night was when they showed us the wild world of bad straight porn that's on our movie list through our cable company.

Of course there's nothing there for lesbians.  When they say, "Girl on Girl", it really means straight women who will cringe at the scent of their counterpart's taco, have long fake nails that would never come near a real lesbian ...

... pap smear anyone?!?! those little fuckers would poke my cervix out of it's happy home! ...

... and will continuously look at the camera, playing it up for the men who are watching.

Because it's all for the men, not us.

Fuckers.

... no pun intended ...

We also spoke about how our insurance company will place the Discovery on the date of our accidents, in an effort to get us to spaz out, and that they then canceled it.

sound familiar?!?!?!  yeah ... at least i proved to papi that i'm not just paranoid, i'm also correct.

We yacked about the people in our community that make someone like me, and others, afraid to speak about our grief, hence the La-Z-Boy and the Pit of Doom.

yes ... it has been that long since we've tried to make the hangout happen.

Through it all, there was a moment when I looked at my love a little differently.

I had another moment where I got to see the male my love desires to be.

Of course, that fleeting moment flew by and denial kicked in again, but through speaking about my fears I concluded that I am indeed really doing well.

There are just a few ends to tidy up.

ghosts ...

However, Papi and I spoke about it like it was no big deal.

Well, it is a big deal, and mi esposo and I are on the hunt to find the perfect moderator to help us communicate better through this.

Sometimes we can work things out on our own.  We really do have honest open communication, and even if it stings the other to say how we're feeling, we open it up and sew it back together.

There are parts about this male transformation that we need someone to guide us through.

There is no handbook on "How To Talk To Your Tranny."

There is also no handbook that says, "What Your Crazy Wife Is Thinking Right Now."

So continues the healing of this wacked out world of transgender life.

Oh!  I've been corrected in my language and learned something new about this gender reassignment again.

Transgender is like a wide umbrella that holds people of all walks in their journey.

Papi is a transsexual.

Good to know.

At least I still get to call him a Tranny, and that's all that really matters.

By the light of the moon ...

There's a very good reason for why I don't celebrate my birthday.

It's not because I've kept the secret of my age for so long and I'm afraid to admit I have a few crow's feet.

they're starting to look a little more like eagle claws with all the stress goin' on over here!!!! 

I don't celebrate my birthday, because there are so many expectations attached to the day.

It must be a fun day.

It must be filled with friends who adore me.

It must be a massive, positive celebration of how wonderful life is.

However, every birthday would come and all my expectations would be blown to bits, and I'd wind up crying in my beer.

That was, of course, in between chain smoking joints, and the beer could be exchanged with any other alcoholic beverage I could get my hands on, because it was my birthday dammit!  And I was going to be half lit so I couldn't remember any of it.

I stopped celebrating my birthday somewhere before I got clean and sober, and when that day would come along, I would silently tell myself how good my life is at that very moment in time.

Yeah, it hurt when nobody gave me a surprise party, but you know, nobody can give me a surprise party if they don't know when my birthday is.

See where I'm going with this?

Well, I'm shown again, that it's not ideal to place expectations on any day here on planet earth.  Life makes it's own decisions on how our day goes, and we have absolutely no control over it.

I was an utter emotional wreck, feeling like everything my love said was proposed in an angry manner.  The P.T.S.D. that I worked so hard to bridle was in full swing, and panic attacks were in abundance while being on the road, coupled with Papi telling me he had issues about this date as well.

This date represents so much for both of us, and I forgot that the other half of this relationship had to live through the motorcycle accident as well.

You'd think I would consider this, seeing as how I'm always fighting to be the other half that is respected in Papi's male transformation.

I mean really!  My love had to take care of me for a long time, from November 22, 2008 forward.  It's not that he is resentful for the time I had to be coddled, it's just that our life as we knew it changed on this day.

Mi esposo had a much different partner before this Living Day, as I was very strong emotionally and physically when Papi and I started dating.

On top of all of the above, this day is also the exact date that Papi started taking hormones, and I suppose I was too narcissistic about my Living Day, that I didn't pay attention to what was going on.

Consequently, I found out about the testosterone a few days later, and a psycho spouse was born, blubbering and catatonic in the La-Z-Boy, complete with drool and tears that could be confused for the epic snot from crying so much.

Not to mention the swollen eyes I'd wake to every day.

So, this is what this day brings for us.

My love and I don't ever fight, because we tend work things out with communication and humour.

However, on this day, Papi and I had the worst communication fail possible.  I wound up in tears and my love wound up feeling like he had to walk on egg shells, between saying the words I took as anger.

We had a ridiculous fights about nothing what-so-ever, really.

My day of gratitude ended when I swept The Golden's hair off the floor, and the rest of the day was a write-off.

Yet, it was still better than where I was 3 years ago.

And this, is the reason why I should probably take the same attitude with my Living Day that I take with my birthday: No expectations.

But hey, the evening got better, and I was also privileged to witness the full moon of the Tranny Terrorist.

That was Papi's way of making me laugh, and it worked.

Sorry I don't have pictures.

My Living Day Anniversary.

They postponed my discovery until February.

In doing this, they allowed me to enjoy this day for living, instead of pounding out the negativity of the past 3 years.

It is a great day to be alive.

I'm going to enjoy everything about my life today.

This includes cleaning up the house with a little help from my Medicinal Cannabis.

I'm grateful to have a pain med option that will allow me sweep The Golden's tumbleweeds of hair, that seem to have taken over the floor since my most recent flare up.

I'm grateful to be in love with a wonderful spouse, who is my soul mate and best friend.

I'm grateful I actually have a Fuzzy Family to keep me remembering that love is all you need.

I'm grateful to EI actually helping me out today, so that I may finally have income after one very long month without enough money for organic, luscious greens to help my body feel well.

I'm grateful that I can still play my instruments, even though I can't play as long as I used to.

I'm grateful that I have a creative ability, so that I have an outlet to deal with life on life's terms, not mine.

I'm grateful.

I'm just truly grateful.

It's a great day to be alive.

Today, I am a lot further than where I was at 3:00, 3 years ago today, when my life changed.

This is my Living Day Anniversary.

I'm going to use it's joy to it's full capacity.

This includes folding laundry.

Yes, I'm grateful that I can actually fold the laundry that seems to be piling to the ceiling.

I now realize house chores are a privilege.

They are.

They are, because I am able to do most of them now.

Today is my Living Day Anniversary and I'll be experiencing it with every moment I breath.

If you're struggling, I hope that today you will find at least one moment of gratitude, peace, joy or all of the above.

Everything always works out.

Everything.

You just have to keep your eyes open, so that you may witness it.