grant me the serenity ...

Ah, the holidays.  A chance to be with ones you love, and practise tolerance for the ones you don't.

Alas, both we and them are human, and we can only tolerate so much.  Especially when they say things like, "Why do you have to move all your cats when you go?  Can't you just get more there?"

... love and tolerance andréa ... keep it together ...

The only thing that got me through that one was the grace to give my mother a nice evening and not start an all out brawl.

How do you explain to someone what family is, if they don't have any concept of love?

Every day, I write my gratitude list to My Gratitude Buddy, the Sweet Ex and my MC Guru.

At the end of the gratitude list, we give forgiveness, which most of the time includes ourselves.

After last night, I've decided that the once in a while forgiving isn't going to work on this guy.  I'm going to have to do it every day to try to grant myself peace concerning him.  Every day, I will forgive this person, in hopes that I will let go of my anger towards him.

It's very hard, especially when they belittle your mother, but you know you have no option but to let her be in that relationship.

She wants to be there.

So, here I am, just on the cusp of learning what it is to 'pray' in my own way.

I won't call it 'pray', because it reminds me too much of my upbringing and makes me wanna toss my cookies.

I'd say it's more like talking to the angels that surrounded me the day of my Soul Activation.

So, I started with, "Please, do you think you could help him be a better person?"

Then it went to, "Please, do you think you could help my mom see that she deserves better?"

And then, it started getting really un-spiritual, "Do you think you could just kill him off?  The world would be a much better place and my mom would be free."

That's when the anger set in and I had to get out of bed and hang out with Papi watching television re-runs.

"I'm having anxiety."

"About the DR?"

"No, about Mr. Homophobia."

Seriously.  Papi stuffed a clonazepam down my yak pronto.  The 'talking' to my spirits caused me to roll out of bed and feel my migraine come back to haunt me.

This morning, I remembered that when I talk to the angels for anything, it should be strength for myself, so that I don't allow my anger to brew.

Anger only hurts me.

I also remembered a saying in that group of anonymous drunks that came into play: the only person I have control over is myself.

I need to be stronger and not allow people's crap to infiltrate my well being.

I suppose my lack of peace also came when I ate my allergy food.

There I was, snacking on ginger bread angels, snowmen, candy canes, then moved on to the shortbread and finally finished it all off with a great piece of apple pie.

That binge had my poor little brain inundated with the poison running through it once more, and Hurricane Andréa was in full swing.

Especially when someone said Papi and I looked alike in a recent photo.

I lost it!  I hate it when people say that, and now that's 3!!!!  How could we look alike?!  Papi's all handsome like, and I'm all femmed out!

But I calmed down after I did a poll and found more people don't see the resemblance than do.

I'm going with the majority.  I'm on their side.

Papi just says, "Well, if we look alike, then I guess we really dig what we look like."

I didn't get it at first, but after it made me chuckle when I realized it means we look in the mirror and we each say, "Damn, I'm hot!"

Then when we found each other we said, "Damn!  You look like me and I'm HOT!  Wanna fuck?"

I guess it's sorta funny now.

Certainly wasn't when I had the evil sugar and wheat pumping through my veins at high velocity!!

Anyway, I'm feeling much better now, and all I want to do is ask my angels for strength.

Strength to stay away from the sugar.  That's really all I need.

The rest will fall into place after that.

i release all anger

We sorta need your help.

OK.

So, we could really use your help.

Our pretty li'l house in the Dominican Republic, aka Casa Paraíso, doesn't have an address.

Nobody there does, really.

There may be a number of a shack you can count on, but really, it's a case of; turn left at the donkey, right at the mango tree and follow through until you get to the beach.

Well, ours is a little easier to find than that, but if I told you where to turn, you'd stalk me.

I am old enough, and bitchy enough now, that I don't have stalkers anymore.

No need for a resurgence.

It's been a cool 12 years since my last creepy person to give a restraining order to.

Anyway.

The houses, shacks or what-have-you, don't have streets or addresses, just names.

We need to name our villa!!

We've thrown a few things around and possibly it will stay as Casa Paraíso, but we're just not settled on it.

Do you think you could help us?

It would definitely start with Villa, but the adjective is what we need.

But for all you who don't speak Spanish, you can just say ________ house.

Or _______ villa.

Or if you speak Spanish, Villa _______.

We're not picky.

Just needy.

Whad'dya say?

The chosen one won't win anything.

Just bragging rights.

And maybe a your picture in my blog if you want.

But keep in mind, that everyone who gets mentioned here gets an alias, so as not to scare away my private friends who would never, ever, never-ever-ever want their name associated with my blog.

Or perhaps if you're an attention whore narcissist, you'll WANT your name here and maybe an option to promote your own blog or some other fancy kinda thing you do.

I'm cool with that.

If you are.

So, once we have our name, it will be painted on our massive wall Papi is planning on building.

Our mansion neighbour has one, so in order to keep up with the Jones' we have to have one too.

Papi's truly a man.

Bigger, better, faster, more.

Now I'm off to brave the weather to have my ritualistic Thursday Lunch with my mother.

We've been doing this ever since I was hurt by not being invited to Easter.

This is way better than having to hang out with Mr. Homophobia and know that I'm not welcome.

Every Thursday, we get to have an hour together of getting to know each other as adults.

It's nice.

And I'm grateful.

i am winning in all my relationships

on track.

She sent me home with a care package containing leftovers from the scrumptious meal she prepared for our get together.

It was a short and very sweet visit with my Eternal Friend, accompanied by the animated presence of Java the Mutt.

I'm so very grateful we're living close to transit, so that I can see her more often.

What was really important for me about our visit, was that she understands my current flux of emotions.

She moved to Guatemala from our hometown, then back again.  It was with this life experience that she was able to tell me I'm right on track.

The tremendous anger I felt by coming home to hearing about bullies, abundant violence and criminal activity was just a typical state of beginning to detach from something I love.

We actually all do it a lot in our lives.  For example, when we know we're leaving a job, we start finding everything we hate about it, so that it's easier to leave.

The other area I'm on track with, is the pull of family and friends.

I'm feeling extremely needy about the fact that I'm leaving people I love.

My mother and I have had a terribly tumultuous relationship since she became a single mother.  We've struggled right into this past year when I felt the sting of not being included in a family dinner.

I was about 10 when she was tossed into a laborious life with 2 broken children, weakened by the split of an emotionally sick family, and no support from a deadbeat dad.

The lawyer she hired to fight him told her, "You'll spend way too much money trying to get anything out of this guy.  You'd be better off using that money to support your children.  You'll never get any support from him.  He's a deadbeat."

And so the walk on our path began.

Here we are, two adults doing our very best to be friends, because we both realize how much we love one another, regardless of the differences and difficulties we have.

Yesterday, I showed her my exercise regime, because there's a gym in her new condo.

I instructed her to lie on her back, so I could teach her how to initiate her core muscles.

There was this woman that had the same body as me, albeit a little softer with an extra layer.

Here was this woman who had the same eyes as me.

Here was this woman who I immediately felt a connection with and found instant forgiveness for anything she put me through.

In that moment, I was forced to remember that I put her through a lot as well.

Imagine living with a child who kept trying to kill herself?  I honestly can't picture myself in her position.

Yet I put her through this, not to mention, the horrendous mood swings that came for a child ruled by an eating disorder and chemical imbalance, further exacerbated when drugs and alcohol were introduced into her blood stream and mind.

Regardless, there she was lying beneath me, as I squeezed her lax muscles and showed her how to hold them tight.

It put her in a place of trusting her child.

I, above her.

It didn't matter that Mr. Homophobia was standing right behind us.  He can't allow my Mother to be alone with anyone, as he needs to control everything my Mother does.

However, yesterday she was all mine, regardless of the black cloud that loomed above us.

I connected with my Mother.

I'm connecting with the spirit of my Great Grandmother.

I'm connecting with family and friends, while at the same time, I feel I'm repelling my city.

My Eternal Friend tells me I'm right on track and that these high and low emotions I'm feeling are typical.

And this, is the journey.

i am loving and accepting of myself for who i am becoming

I'm Sorry.

My weekend didn't really end after being so pumped with Broken Cat Dream and their fucking amazing performance.  I only got 3 hours sleep from all the excitement!!!!!!!

Wow!

Learn an instrument Friday night and perform an original song they've written 2 days later.

How many of us would do that?  Insanely brave.

I know Papi wouldn't do it.

He says that's his worst nightmare, and occasionally, he actually has that nightmare.

He'll dream that I can't perform and he has to take over for me.

To my love, this is fear.

To me, fear is confronting my mistakes and fixing them, with the impending doom that hovers over me.

I'm always too afraid to tell people how much they've hurt me, because I didn't have that opportunity to practise as a child.

I'm afraid that people won't care if I tell them how I feel, and they'll just tell me to fuck off, because to me, when they hurt me, it's because I'm just not good enough to be in their life.

Speaking of which, I apologized to my mother yesterday.

We spoke about the fact that if she's not honest with me, then I can't be honest with her.

I told her every single little feeling I had.

From feeling that she's never been proud of me, to feeling that she won't see me because Mr. Homophobia tells her not to.

Feelings that she doesn't call because she doesn't really like me all that much, and that it hurts that she calls my sister every day.

These are the thoughts that come into my head when I am not honest about my feelings.

That's really all thanks to my 'father' who really is a glorified sperm donor.  Goddam, he really fucked me up good from ditching his family for drugs.  I'm seeing this now.

My mother has never been able to be open about her feelings and I told her I need that if I'm going to have a relationship with her.

So.

I gave her an apology card.  On the front it had a cute cartoon bunny that had her head hanging in shame.

The caption read, "I fucked up."

My mom laughed and opened her eyes really wide when she said, "YES!  You DID!"

I smiled, knowing that such is my life.  I screw up all over the fucking place, because I didn't have the opportunity to learn from parents.

My mother was a child when she got pregnant with me.  My mother, my baby sister and I, we all grew up together.  Three kids in one house.

There was no room for my mom to learn communication, because her mom didn't communicate either.  Her mother emotionally ditched her when she got pregnant with me.

I've decided, that I will be my mother's surrogate big sister.

She really needs that.  Well, actually, we both need that.

I'm going to be honest about my feelings from now on, and then that way, my side of the street is cleaned up.

Papi asked me if perhaps, this will open the door for me to tell the 'mean girls' how much they hurt me, and in turn they can tell me why they did what they did.

Not bloody likely.

I have other messes to clean up.

I'll stick to cleaning up my side of the street.  There's enough to do here.

for the most part, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks.  follow your own truth.

Carnivore.

Ok.

So, now I'm ready for the Brace Face to leave my mouth.

I have a good few months left.  Maybe around 9 or so.  So wanting them off now is really not good for the attitude.

I've done well though.  I've enjoyed the future outcome up until now.

Really, it's all about food.

I love food.

I especially love steak.

And corn on the cob.

And freshly cooked veggies that are not overdone.

This whole damn weekend was filled with food I couldn't eat.

It was kinda like I was a carnivore-ian this weekend.

Couldn't chew veggies done on the BBQ for our garden party, nor could I chomp on the ones they had at the brunch.

So, I just ate chicken, fish, eggs and sausages.

Not that I'm complaining about that part, but damn!  A piece of medium rare steak would have been nice!

No.

It's hamburger meat for me if I want to indulge in beef.  It's not that good for us anyway, but goddam, watching everyone enjoy was a bit of a downer.

Oh for fucks sakes, now I'm on a food tangent.

I really wanted to tell you about my weekend because I was so busy having fun I didn't get to write.

The garden party was fantabulous!!!  The happy gardeners plugged their way through weeds and overgrown pretty plants, and these amazing friends dressed our yard to the 9's.

Now the G'ma will have to find something else to nag about.

Don't you worry.

She will.

The next day was the Mother's Day Brunch!

Of course, Mr. Homophobia did show up, and pretended to like us to be sure everyone else around him didn't know he was a homophobic piece of shit.

That's saved for my mother to listen to.

There's nothing worse than a two faced person who is nice to your face and hates you behind your back.

I have always fallen for it in the past, but since the 'mean girls' did their two face trick, I'm not so gullible, nor do I give people the benefit of the doubt anymore.

He gave the fake hug hello and good-bye and pretended to care about how we were on this day.

But I have to tell you what the most fun of that day was.

You see, we were at my biological G'ma's old folks home for an extravaganza of a brunch.  My bio-G'ma was seated at the head of the table.

My live in G'ma was seated at the other end of the table.

Bio-G'ma kept staring at the old bird at the other end.

You could read her mind!  Gramma drama was in full swing!

"Who the hell is that asshole down there?!?  It's my table!  I've never seen her around these parts.  Doesn't she know this is my family?  Who let her sit at the end of my table?!?"

It was truly something to behold.  I couldn't stop laughing at the face she was donning.

... or perhaps that was just the pain meds?...

And at the end of the day, we had a really nice family picture to remember the visit.

No.  Mr. Homophobia didn't make it into my picture of love.

But look at those two old birds!!!!

Happy Mother's day indeed.

Complete with my baby sister, her lovely family and Papi.

And pain killers.

if it were easy, everyone would do it

Times. They are a changin'.

photo by Jezebel

It's only the beginning.

There is so much more we need to do to help heal those who have been harmed by homophobia and transphobia.

So many people are saying it's a 'risky' move before an election, but it's also a good move for humanity and morality.

I hope that this will help the thousands of homeless kids out there, who have been harmed by the ridiculous hatred from their families, who have been brain washed by religious leaders, who's hearts are filled with hate.

I hope that these kids who have come of the age to vote, will actually get out there and make a move to vote to keep this person fighting for them.

It's only the beginning.

For those of us who have our own struggles with acceptance, I hope that it transforms us as well.

I say us, because I'm looking at myself.

Where I was a year and a half ago, experiencing my love's male transformation, was a far cry from where I am now.

I know that my views have evolved.

We all have the ability to evolve.

If we want to.

I wanted to.  I wanted to be able to love mi esposo with the same eyes that saw him as a perfect butch I married.

He is still perfect.

As a matter of fact, he's even more perfect now.

He's a whole person, who is on a path to find himself, and I am only the lucky one to be walking along side of him on his journey.

The person who was in emotional hell a year and a half ago is not the same today.

Those thoughts that I had were terribly hurtful, yet people loved me through them.

My true friends allowed me to have those feelings, they steered me in the right direction, and they supported me when I needed it.

They watched me transform.

Unlike the Hen Peckers, mean girls and haters that I had to face, truly good people held me until I was ready to say, "I love my transgender husband.  He is perfect." 

Ah, the roller coaster of life.

When you're sliding down that hill, it can be exhilarating, or it can be scary if we don't know what to expect around that bend.

The moments where we get to come back up the hill are our times to reflect.

We might even feel the tendency to say, "Do it again!  Do it again!"  The fact that this ride comes around full circle is healing.

We can choose to step off the ride and say, "Damn that was fun!" or we could leave with a sick feeling in our stomach.

Either way, we got through it.

Personally, I love a good roller coaster.  I love the thrill.  I also love the thrill of life.

After the pain subsides, I am free to love the surprises we get, as I'm also given moments of reflection.

The same week a country's leader made a bold statement, my mother actually invited me to a Mother's Day Brunch.

I am shocked and impressed.  She really is going against Mr. Homophobia's wishes.

It's nice to see my mother fighting for my love.

It may be a small step to her, but to me? 

Massive.

Times.  They are a changin'.

what would you do if you were NOT afraid?

You get what you need.

Clammy.

Sweating and then freezing.

Sore throat.

Bitchy headache of doom.

It's official.  I feel like crap.

I had big plans for this day.  It's safe to say that the old clichés of, "Can't always get what you want," or "Plans were made to be broken," are very true today.

This was a day to plan, look forward to, and go to bed early for.

Except, there would be not enough sleep to heal my throat that threatened it's destructive presence last night.

I thought I told it to back off, but I guess I wasn't firm enough.

I really thought my sore throat just had something to do with the fact that my mouth is filled with canker sores from my recent braces adjustments, and pieces of metal that seem to be poking holes in my mess of a mouth.

Alas, it really is some stupid fucking virus.

It didn't help that I woke up at 4 a.m. with anxiety.

I don't know what it is, but since being the age where I've had an alarm clock to look at, I wake up at 4 a.m. from nightmares or just plain anxiety about nothing I can put my finger on.

It happened again last night.

It's so strange.  It's always 4 a.m.

Last night, I almost had one of the nasty panic attacks I get, but I managed to ward it off by reading my current book, The Five Books of Moses Lapinsky.

My Gratitude Buddy gave it to me well over a month ago, but I'm so slow at reading since the bonk to my head.

I'm required to look bright eyed and bushy tailed for an interview for RightOutTV tomorrow.

I best be taking care of my body today.

I also think that having some down time will allow me to think about things I need to be working on emotionally.

Oh, speaking of which, Mommy Dearest called to make lunch plans with me.  It's about the only time she can get to see me without Mr. Homophobia finding out about it and making her life hell.

That's what our relationship really is.

Secret lunch dates.

I know that's all I get from my mother, and that's been ok with me for years now.

Hey!  At least I get that, eh?

I'm grateful that she goes behind his back to keep in contact.

... can't always get what'cha want ...

What I really want?

I want Papi to feel healthy.

The grief counselling has him tired and depressed.  The healing from so many months of being sick has him tired and depressed.

His body just wants to sleep and sleep.

I miss my love so badly.  I feel like there's a disconnect when we talk.

I feel like our hugs and kisses are petering out.

I miss our connection we had before the bomb dropped about the male transformation.

I feel like I go in for some love and I'm held at arms length, only able to see my love, not touch his heart.

I really need my love to feel better.

I really hope that when he goes away for a week into the sunshine that it might kickstart his heart.

I miss Papi.

life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it

Fasting?

So, my sugar fast is going quite well.

... end sarcasm here ...

I've had a few litres of coconut ice cream, a couple bags of wheat free, choco-chip, oatmeal cookies and another  couple of chocolate bars since finishing off the vat of chocolate my fancy Easter Bunny brought me.

I still have 1 more bucket of the coconut ice cream treat left.  I'll have to eat it to get it off my mind.

This is a fast?

Very fast!  I eat these treats like nobody else.

Gorge?  Why yes I am, thank you very much.

I was starving for so fucking long that I just don't give a shit what I'm putting in my body, I suppose.

I wanted that last bucket of sweet, creamy heaven last night, and had to stop myself from getting it by eating a bag of popcorn and a wheat free bagel with peanut butter.

Then I went to bed and obsessed about my peanut butter swirled, chocolate, coconut ice cream some more.

Seems that this morning, I'm still obsessing about it.

Anyway, I think that once I get that last bad boy out of my freezer and into my belly, I'll be well on my way to eating my normal diet of absolutely no sugar.

It's making me a bit crazy.

The sugar that is.

Like I said, if you want a Hurricane Andréa sighting, just add sugar.

Not to mention, I'm on the verge of a candida eruption!

I was not feeling so fresh last night I'll tell ya.

But today, I go see my baby sister, and I'm sure there will be much more sugar to be had.

Normal people can eat sugar all day, every day without it being an issue.

... or so they think ... right papi?! ...

I'm the odd woman out with my healthy diet of whole, organic foods and no processed crap.

I have to work double time to keep my brain thinking of the positive when there's sugar running rampantly through my blood.

I'm one step ahead of the evil demons who plant horrid thoughts in my head.

I was actually paranoid that my baby sister was influenced by Mommy Dearest and her evil sidekick, Mr. Homophobia, and didn't want to talk to me anymore.

Seriously?!?!?

I know my baby sister loves me oodles and I love her even more than that!

Yet, there I was, writing an email asking if she was mad at me, because she didn't get back to me as quickly as she usually does.

Of course she wrote back to explain how busy she was.  She has a family that's more than busy.  It happens all the time that she can't get back to me.

However, because this happened after the dinner I wasn't invited to, my sugar filled blood whispered sweet nothings to my brain, leaving me hypnotized by my demons.

Blammo!

Instant: 'nobody loves me'!

So strange, isn't it?  How can I be so messed up, just from eating too much sugar?

Oh yeah right.  I'm 'special'.  I have the world's most sensitive body.  You can call me bubble girl.

If you want to know if something is bad for you, feed it to me.  My body will let you know in an instant.

But then, you'll probably just keep eating all those delicious yummies even if they do turn me into a monster, right?

I'm so envious.

i love and respect my body

Take shelter from Hurricane Andréa!

Got a few things going on right now.

No fucking doubt I'm so fucking crabby.

I suppose eating a vat of sugar filled chocolate doesn't help matters.

If you want a Hurricane Andréa sighting, all you have to do is add sugar.

Well, that and counselling.

Yeah.

Ever since I started counselling, I have had a lot of past trauma symptoms come up.

I've had insomnia while I shake from thoughts that don't even expose themselves to me.

I've had anxiety to the point of nausea.

I've had sleep paralysis.

I've had awful nightmares.

I've had depression and panic attacks.

I've had a horrible time with the girl in the mirror.

... goddamit! just 2 weeks ago i could handle her!!! fucking anorexia monster! fuck you! ...

There's more, but I just needed to realize that the reason all of this is coming up is because I'm so raw after having opened all my wounds.

That would probably be why when I was dissed again by my mother, it hurt so much.

She's been dissing me for years!!  So why the fuck should it all of a sudden bother me now?!?!?

My sperm donor has never been a father and all of a sudden I'm having guilt about not being there for the person who has never been there for me.

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?

Anyway, I'm extremely bitchy and extremely impatient.

That's the worst part; being homicidal.

The way I've behaved for the last few days in public is really old behaviour.

I used to be the biggest bitch to every single person around me.

I was this way this weekend.

Yes, I get that way with sugar, but still, there's a hell of a lot more going on for me than just being homicidal.

This doesn't mean I'm giving up my vat of chocolate.

I've got a good 2 days left of choco-heaven.

However, it does mean that I have to breathe a lot more and remember that the person standing in front of me is not the person who harmed me when I was a kid.

I have to remember that being nice, even when I don't feel like, it is one of my values.

Nobody deserved my nasty attitude this weekend, except for mommy dearest and her evil sidekick, Mr. Homophobia.

They were the ones who hurt me.

Not the people in the elevator who wouldn't give the last person enough room to fit.

Oh, I made them fit.

"So, you could fit into this elevator if people in here were polite!!!"

Oh, people moved.

They let the last person fit in, and they all gave Papi the look of, "You poor, poor husband.  We understand," followed by a little 'knowing' smirk.

Then they were all afraid to get out of the elevator at the same time as me.

I have that effect on people when I have issues come up.

It's time to deal with them, even if all my old problems are back to being so bloodied and fresh that I'm pretty sure I'm dying inside.

Today, I will play nice.

crying does not mean i'm weak, but it won't solve my problems either

Crying Sucks.

Sometimes, it really hurts.

Basically, my mother has chosen her husband over her daughter.

Can't blame her.

She's had such a rough upbringing being beaten by nuns and living with certain dysfunctional family members could really screw someone up.

Then being knocked up by my deadbeat dad would've given her more issues.

So, she met Mr. Homophobia and they're living happily ever after.

She's not even so much as allowed to speak her dirty disgusting dyke daughter's name, or the man of the house who rules the roost will start a fight with her.

She can only see me when she has managed to get out of the house without him knowing she's coming to see me.

So, I don't really have a relationship with my mother.

But it still really hurts when I see my baby sister talking about going to her house for dinner tonight.

I should know better than to be hurt by it.

If I allow this to affect me each and every time, I'll only be harming myself.

I get to go to Swiss Chalet with the most wonderful spouse there ever was, and a crazy old bird who will make it quite interesting.

Why the hell would I even want to be over there with Mr. Homophobia?!?!?!

My love doesn't hold grudges like I do.

... yup. another one of my shortcomings that i have to deal with ...

However, my love would never disown his own daughter because his spouse told him to.

Good god!

It just happens everywhere to me!

In my 'community', within my friends, in my family life and even strangers who believe the lies all of the above say about me.

I'm lovely goddamit!

Why do I get ousted all over the fucking place!!!!!!!

No fucking wonder I want to run off to some 3rd world country and start new.

I would rather be with goats.

Knowing my luck I'll get the only fucking goats that know how to judge me as well.

So, while I sip my coffee, hoping that my artificial happiness will stop my tears from burning my skin, I have to remember that my life is what it is.

Never ending extremism.

Either really, really good, or really really painful.

It's been like this since I was a kid.  I should be used to it by now!!!!!

But I'm not.

My sperm donor left me with abandonment issues that are still harming me today.

I see that this pattern of being banished from various groups and people really needs to be looked at.

In life, when we have something to work on, life passes it to us non-stop until we learn how to deal with it.

Any fucking suggestions on how to deal with constantly and consistently being ostracized and banished?

I have started my Victim Support Counselling.  I hope that in the 6 months they allow me my counsellor, that I can deal with as much as possible.

However, I'm really only supposed to be dealing specifically on the sexual abuse of the hands of bio-males.

Does abandonment fit in there?

I fucking hope so.

Because this hurts.

Someone told me crying is good for you.

Fuck you.

i am attracted only to those people and situations that support and nourish me