shine on beautiful soul!

Fat-phobic.

I get it.

Some people are overly mean to overweight people.  That's really terrible.

I understand that sometimes it's an eating disorder, just as much as it is food addiction, but other times it's someone who's body is just built that way.

We are all different.

I have this food addiction and I do everything to abstain from the foods I gorge on.

Some people don't care that they're overweight and that is GREAT for them.

However, some of us have other feelings about it.

I, personally, have way too much pain in my knee and back when I put on weight.

Not to mention, I have a different sort of eating disorder that makes me lose my mind.

I would prefer to fit into my clothes so that I know I'm a healthy weight, even if the mirror doesn't allow me to see the same reality.

If I don't, I'm affected by obsession and can't function properly because all my energy is spent freaking out about the pants that don't fit, then I start having anxiety.

It's not fun.  I'd rather just stay at a healthy weight to send the Anorexia Monster back to its hole.

I have a very sweet friend who is working on losing weight.

She has been proudly posting the results of her efforts with glee!

I, and so many others, are so proud of her.

Then, we have the 'mean girls'.

They are being just as catty to her as they were to me and Papi.

Just as negative and hurtful.

The same fucking assholes as we all know they are.

Seriously.

Leave her the fuck alone.

She is doing a good thing for herself.

It doesn't affect YOU.

It makes her feel better.

But of course, 'you', have to try to make her just as miserable as you are.

You're going to run out of people to pick on, you know?

Maybe you'll all just have to start pegging off people in your clique one by one.

Then you'll be left with the king prick who will be lonely at the top.

Perhaps then, that person will have the leftover clique to ostracize them!

Oh, the irony.

Anyway, I'm fucking pissed off that people will harass my friend who is not hurting anyone, but only bettering her own life.

Me and Papi seriously don't think we will ever want to live in Vancouver again with these cretins.

These are some of the meanest people I've ever encountered.

Even being part of The Pariah Club didn't work out for me.

They ostracized me as well.

I doubt they're doing that to this lovely soul.  They are pro-health most of the time.

But still, the other uber-PC people?

I'm not shocked.

When this sweet soul started posting about her journey, I was counting the days before the 'mean girls' reared their ugly heads.

Sure enough, they appeared, spewing filth and negativity.

My sweet friend, you are awesome.

You are doing what so many people struggle to do.

You are paving a path to encourage others to feel better in their lives as well.

Healthy is strong.

You are lovely and don't let any of those creeps bring you down.

I, like the others who are ostracized from that 'community', wish you the best and are rooting for you.

We love you.

Shine on!

i achieve my weight loss goals

just love me

Well, Chantal was pretty calm on this side of the island.

Yeah, I drove through some heavy rain, and the thunder was AMAZING!!!

But there was no wind and nothing to write home about.

However, I guess I do have something to write home about; the lack of entertainment mother nature provided yesterday.

I was anticipating encountering my first true, tropical storm.

People on the south of the island got hit quite hard and unfortunately, one person died.

They had a lot of flooding and no power.

They looked a bit like Toronto or Calgary in Canada this past Spring.

Us?  Well, our gardens got quite the feeding yesterday.

Because Papi and I were not ready for our anniversary, our day was celebrated by lying around in bed, oohing and ahhing at the lighting and thunder, and watching the first episode of Dexter.

Ooooh that new character is a good one, but damn, that show is not the same with the bleeping of every 'fuck', 'shit' and blurring of boobs.

We also looked for our dwelling for our anniversary vacation, but everything is booked.

Talk about leaving things to the last minute.

We suck!

Mind you, things have been a 'tad' hectic around here.

I remembered about our anniversary the last week of June, then of course, stress set in and out the back door went that memory.

At least I beat Papi to the punch of being the first to say it on our day.

I waited and waited for him to wake up, and at the crack of 3 p.m. I turned off his air conditioning and up he was!

I also took the opportunity to yet again, email someone I thought was a friend, who owes us money.

Here is my newest 'rule' of life.

Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, put money between a friendship.

Give!  Yes!

We gave to a friend in need yesterday, when her poor sweet kitty needed medical attention and she had no money.

Yes, we give, and we receive when we are in need as well, no problem.

But selling, renting, or any other 'business' with a friend is now off limits.

First of all, we've been waiting for the money for a few months past when she said she'd pay, but the worst part?

I've lost a friend, because she won't even speak to me.  She won't even return my emails.

Most people, when I tell the story to them, they merely say she was never a friend to begin with and that I haven't lost much with someone who is dishonest.

However, I am sad.

I am always sad when I lose a friend that I love, and go through all the steps of grieving what's vanished.

No matter what it is they do to hurt me, no matter how much anger I feel, I am still sad at the disappearance of someone I considered a friend.

I just want to be loved, and I swear, it's one of my top missions in life.

Love me.  I just can't handle the rejection.

Yet somehow, not only am I rejected by one person, I seem to get entire PODS and cliques who ostracize me with one word from their leader who tells them to do so.

I suppose, people only do this to people who seem strong, to try to knock them down.

I suppose, people see me as strong.

I suppose, all those who tell me I am, are correct.

I suppose, what I gain when someone hurts my heart, is my spirit is pulled closer to those who are endless with their love for me.  It shows me just how good people CAN be in this world.

Still, my poor little heart aches when I have experienced the failure of a friend.

My dear, you have indeed wounded me.

Maybe everyone was right, that you never intended to pay us the money, even though you wrote us a contract.

Fool me once.

Indeed, your karma awaits.

i receive all feedback about a decision with love, but make the final call myself

i might have to bring out pissy face

I'm quickly grabbing my breakfast before the day starts, now that I don't feel like death anymore.

I was granted 2 days to rest while feeling horrid.  That means that today should be hell.  Putting things off just means more work later.

The Carpenter already told me we have to go shopping after my breakfast.

Or rather, in his words, "After coffee!"

True.  It's mostly about the coffee.

Yesterday, I was sick and wasn't moving much, and the house looked empty despite the dogs running around like the lunatics they are.

Yet, there were children SCREAMING my name outside the gate.  When they didn't get a reaction, because I was lying like a lump in bed, they even tried Papi.

"Andréa!!!!" and a two second break between trying my name again, then, "Hector!!" ad infinitum.  Then there would be quiet for 30 minutes, only to hear it all over again for 20 more minutes.

We had to hide in our bedroom, shutters closed, so dark that when my mother skyped, she asked me if it was already night time.

No mom, we're just in our prison tower, hiding.  Just call me Rapunzel.  Not short of the hair hanging out the window.  That usually gives me away too.  So the shutters were definitely locked closed.

When the time comes that I teach them choir in July, I will teach it on Saturday and drill it into their heads that Sunday, we are to have no visitors.

I'm even going to get a HUGE sheet of material and cover up the wooden slats so they can't just try to be passive aggressive about it and stare at us until we respond.

I will train them yet.

The signs didn't work, but there will be signs on Sunday anyway.

Signs.

A sheet.

Verbal instruction.

If the children don't get it by then, well, I'll have to send in the reinforcement.

Papi will have to put on his cranky pants and be angry with them enough to keep them away.

We moved here for peace and tranquility to heal from so much that has happened in our lives.

There hasn't been any for the almost 5 months we've been here.

When it comes to this problem, we would have been better off in a miserable gated community with stuck up bastards who came to this country, not to be with it's people, but just to use it.

At this point, I'd even weather out being with those snotty people who have nothing better to do than tell me how may dogs I'm allowed to have.

However, if I can train the kids that Sunday is off limits, Papi and I might have a fighting chance.

We might feel like we get to have ONE day a week where the time is just for us.

We deserve one day for fucks sakes, don't we?!?!

Or will this trigger a whole bunch of uber political in Vancouver to call me racist again.  I don't give a shit anymore.

I love these kids, regardless of their class or their colour, so everyone sitting behind their books and computers in their privacy of cushy Vancouver can fuck off before you open your mouths.

You've already ostracized me enough that you couldn't possibly do any worse, so I'm done with all of you.

The point is, I also love my alone time.

It would be the same in Canada.

I like to be alone.

I'm giving them 6 days a week at the Hector-Brown Amusement Park.

Even the locals get one day a week off.

Why not the expats too?

Are we not deserving of that?

I think we are.

They have a month to get it and then Pissy Face comes out.

i take pleasure in my own solitude

plan 'b': follow your heart

I had to stop and remember that there are always 2 sides to every story.

I spoke to Our Fave's Mom with complete and utter honesty.

I told her that people have said her family could rob us, and that her son could as well and that I'm scared for our safety.

She knew who I meant by 'people' right away, saying her name out loud, and with my silence, I did not deny it.

On the flip side, I told her that all Papi and I have ever seen of Our Favourite, is that he likes to work, and that's the impression we get.

We do not get the impression that he's a thief.

I told her that from the day we met him, he has been Our Favourite, because he speaks to us like he is an old soul with wisdom.

I told her that I really want to be her friend, though so far, people don't want friendship, only money, so it has really hurt my heart and it's hard to trust.

She understood, telling me that she doesn't want to take.

She told me that in her family, the only people with drug and thievery problems is her one brother.

I asked her not to tell her family who we are, nor where we live.

She replied, "I won't.  I only speak to my parents, and nobody in the village speaks to me.  I keep to myself."

I know some people are threatened by those who don't follow the clique.

I know this to be my own experience and I told her so.

"I'm sorry people hurt your heart.  It can be the same from where I come from.  You need a friend.  I'd like to be your friend, because I need a friend too."

Then I started to think about the source which told me that she is not good in the first place.

This is the same person that I have trouble trusting, whom I have proof has stolen from us.

I've decided that I am going to follow my heart, not my head, and certainly not what a busy body says about another person.

Papi and I spoke about it, and our hearts say she is a sweet person, who has fallen prey to the clique of the village.

In every 'community', there are always the 'mean girls' who gossip and tell people lies about someone to get the others on their side, in a quest for power.

I've experienced these people.

Then there are those, like myself and Papi, who choose to judge a person on our own accord.

I don't listen to the queen bee very often, because I like to consider a person's worth on my own.

I know that others have stood by me when the Hen Peckers were in full force.

At the same time, I know others who have ostracized me, choosing to believe the lies, instead of asking me personally for my side.

My heart says she needs a friend, and oh how I can relate.

My heart says to try this out and if things don't work, I can always leave the friendship like I've done with other people who have broken my trust.

My heart says she is good.

I look in her eyes and I see love.

I have the feeling that she is drawn to me, because she doesn't follow the crowd, and that she sees that in me.

In her, I see a strong person.

Maybe she sees that in me?

In her, I see goodness.

Maybe she sees goodness that she can trust in me?

Yesterday, someone left an absolutely AWESOME folklore tale in my comments box.

Please stop by and read it.

We will find all kinds of people, whomever we choose to look for.

So do we choose to look for good?  Or do we choose to look for bad?

It's ok that my intuition doesn't work here.

My heart is good and I'm following it, because I like her.

It may be a mistake, or it could turn out to be a wonderful friendship with another member of The Pariah Club.

And oh, how I can relate.

i have every bit as much brightness to offer the world as the next person

yeah! so fucking what!

Let's talk about offense.

Or rather, let me vent about it while you read and chuckle at the way I deal with my mental illness.

In the beginning of the creation of this blog, I had something to say that I felt I couldn't say to the world, lest I be judged harshly and made to be a part of The Pariah Club.

I did it anyway.

I gained so much from being an outcast.  I found people who also felt the same.  I found my strength from people who allowed me to speak my mind, but not diss me for it.  Instead, they allowed me my freedom of speech until I could heal from my pain.

I also found, I had said enough that I got the shit out of my head, through my mouth and therefore, out of my soul.

I grew.

I found that I didn't need to say much more, because I had the majority of my own shit worked out.

Now I have another level of my shit pile to work on, but this one, I'm tending to be very careful with my words, lest I 'offend' someone.

Then I read an awesome quote that was floating around Facebook.

Meet Stephen Fry, if you already haven't.

I immediately felt connection to this person.

I immediately shouted from my proverbial rooftop, "YES!!!!!!  Exactly!! So fucking what!!!!!!"

Some are offended by what I say, yet I, being part of The Pariah Club (not to mention the minority in my minority of a community), were to say what I really feel, I'd have even fewer friends.

I get offended by things people I love post, however, I don't berate them.  Rather, I allow them their freedom of speech and deal with my own shit.

All I do is I graze past their pics and statuses, so that I can move on to more non-offensive pics.

Like LOLCats.

I mean seriously.  I have fucking issues.

I have such horrid issues, that I bravely called a psychologist today, to plead for help with my P.T.S.D. from past abuses.

I see things that people comment on with ease, that put me into a tailspin, and give me the most fucked up dreams.

Like the dream the other day: the punishment for everyone else in my dream was to be pelted by volleyballs, yet MY punishment for the same error was to have to watch my love pretend to piss out of a hotdog held in his 'man zone'.

Sound fucked up enough?  Yup.

All because I saw a picture of a jello mold in the shape of a penis and balls with great hairy bits dangling from it.

Sound harmless enough?  Sure!  For everyone else, except this wacky brain that jumps into places that no cranium should go.  From a fucking jello mold people!!

Me?  I had 'offense', but it wasn't attached to my Great Non-Judgmental Friend, but by what my brain did when I saw it.

And that's MY shit, nobody elses shit.

So do I say I'm 'offended' by that?  Nope.  I just write a blog about how I need to get this fucking P.T.S.D. out of my life.

I hope my friends can keep getting much more enjoyment out of their happy, healthy brains.  I'll just keep grazing past it, and go to therapy.

Are you offended?  So fucking what.

i see each part of my life as a lesson

tears for papi

You know what I think?

I think that Papi and I have been tested up the wazoo, and I think we're on to the next examination of our devotion to each other.

We've survived my motorcycle accident, along with all the brain injury and physical hell that my love has had to endure while watching me struggle to heal.

We've survived a horrible miscarriage, where I had 2 emergency D&Cs, 3 trips to ER, followed by the realization that perhaps, I can't carry a child to full term.

We've survived my love going through male transformation.

We've survived being ostracized by hateful crud in the 'community', who did their best to crush our hearts.

This has all happened in 4 years.

Well, we're now on to another chapter of survival in our relationship.

We're both going through life issues that are not the same, however, we're doing it at the same time.

Today, I begin working on dealing with my past of sexual/emotional abuse, abandonment, and low self-esteem due to my upbringing.

My love lost his mother at the tiny age of 10 and has never really worked on his issues, but now that G'ma is going downhill, he can see her time is coming, and I'm so grateful that he's going for support to deal with his grief.

It breaks my heart to see him in such pain.

We were upstairs organizing our recycling together, when we noticed G'ma didn't eat her dinner.

We tried to give it to her, but she said she's not hungry.

Alzheimer's will do this.

We're seeing all the typical textbook symptoms come to light now, and this is putting my love into a very difficult place; It's bringing up everything from the loss of his mother at such a young age.

It's interesting that we've both had stuff come up from our upbringing at the same time.

My dear sweet Papi is hurting so bad right now, and is afraid that I'll see his worst side and not be able to take it.

I'm not sure if my love has really taken a look at Hurricane Andréa lately, but she is not one to back down from any emotional challenge.

I didn't stick around after the year of grieving from losing my butch, only to take off after a difficult time comes up.

We're two peas in a fucking pod, I'll tell ya.  The 'CooCoo Couple'.

Even still, by having two people who know what it means to work on personal issues, we're very fortunate that we both understand.

My heart breaks to watch my love witness his G'ma getting worse.  It breaks my heart to see his tears roll down his face as he sees G'ma fading.

The one thing I do know is, he will get better.

Everything gets better with time, if you work on it.

Everything works out, no matter how hard it is at the time, even if it's not the result we want.

Between the two of us, our reasons for healing are different, but we're in the same car on the road to get there, we'll just take turns driving.

There is so much work for both of us to do on our own ends, but we'll do it with love, and some more tears.  Not to mention, a few more difficult passages through our own personal hell.

All I know is, I'm ready to be Papi's advocate, support, and caretaker when the time comes for him to fall.

I'm also ready to start my counselling today.

After all the intake has been done, and my case presented to the BigWigs who decide whether or not I get free counselling for 6 months, I've been accepted.

Congratulations Andréa!  You're nuts enough for the government to pay for your counselling!!

I look forward to being even stronger and happier, even if I'm terrified to look at my past.

i am willing to let go

Next step: Motivation

I'm like an elephant.

I never forget.

I can forgive quite easily, as we are definitely not perfect beings.

But forget?

No.

It's part of the reason why I'm so sensitive to cliques actions, and why I have social anxiety.

I've run into the issue of being ostracized by mobs since I was a little girl.  Over and over again these throngs of people prove how mean they can be.

I really thought that it would get better at this developed point in life.  I mean c'mon!  We're adults here, are we not?

some of us have that nattering teenager inside ...

But just like elephants never dismissing a memory, some people are like feral cats and never change their loathsome habits.

I sat with a Trust List friend the other day, whom I told about my issues with 'learning'.  How I prefer to ask questions and learn from my mistakes to educate myself.

I mean really.

My biggest lessons have come through the err in my imperfect ways.

However, she looked at me with sympathetic sincerity, while asking me if it really is a method I would recommend sustaining.

I reminded myself, at the same time I told her, "I usually do these things until I'm sick of the pain, or finally realize they don't actually work."

I'm wondering if perhaps I should take a look at my scarcity of wisdom in the transgender world.

I've been so pig headed about the whole thing.  I've only been letting in what I can handle, to be honest.

Yet, I really feel that I'm much more secure now.  This allows me to be much more inquisitive, and simultaneously, more willing.

i am the queen of denial ... and denial ain't a river in egypt ...

Papi and I went to a movie the other day about transgender people.  3 people told their stories and one of them was a very young child.

The parents of this child were so supportive of their kid being trans.  It was really quite beautiful.  They fumbled through this new world, learning as they went.  All the while, they supported their offspring by allowing this person to decide who they wish to be.

Next came an F-M who had a struggle all through his life because everyone else could see that this 'girl' was not the same as the other 'girls'.

He spoke about his upbringing, the first person who accepted the male inside as 'Tom', and his isolated voyage in this quest of finding who he really is.

We didn't get to see the third person, because Papi's stomach erupted from a bad case of 'alfredo sauce from hell'.

It didn't really matter that I didn't get to see the third one.  The first two were enough for me to feel so deeply for my love, and the titanic trouble Papi must have endured to finally get to a point of acceptance of the male within.

My love had said to me early on in the drop of the bomb, "The reason I found strength to come out about my need to change genders, is because I knew I could trust you to keep loving me, and that you wouldn't leave me."

Papi was right.  I'm not going anywhere.

But damn!  I've got a lot of learning to do, opinions to change, and fear to overcome.

Nevertheless, there was one comment that stood out in the verbal exchange of femme to femme love with my Trust List friend the other day, that still reverberates in my mind.

I had blurted out, "My love is stronger than my fear."

My friend was jubilant to hear these palpable words, and stressed that I should place this bold statement around the house.  That way, I could see these words when I fret about my future with my soul mate who is becoming another gender.

There's really nothing to be afraid of.

I've gotten past that point.

So now, the work must begin.

Anyone feel like giving me a loving nudge?

Back off bitches!

The Hen Peckers are at it again.  Only this time, they're attacking Papi.

don't you fuck with my baby, bitches!! i don't care if your a he, a she, both or none of the above, your behaviour grants the title 'bitches'!!

The Trans Clique is spewing their defamation about my love on forums.

They have no idea about mi esposo's situation, but they feel that Papi should be following their orders.

like tiny little soldiers we all fall in line ...

Papi's job is a difficult subject that my love and I have spoken about numerous times, and mi esposo doesn't take this job for granted.  Papi is very aware of the transition being discussed amongst management at this company, and is waiting for them to figure out this issue on their own.

You see, my love started working at a transition safe house for abused, mentally ill women a few years ago.  Only 'women' can work there, and only 'women' can be housed there.  However, there has been an M-F who was taken in.

The women were uncomfortable with this transgender person at first, because she still had a penis and walked around with a short house coat.

Yet, over time, they became used to the soul inside and accepted her as one of their own.

Stress the words; over ... time ...

The women there adore my love.  Rightfully so!  Papi has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known.  Mi esposo is perfect for the job, because of this.

Abused, mentally ill people need to have this love in their lives, just as much as they need consistency.

I know that these souls would be heartbroken if my love were fired from this job, or even if Papi left by choice.

My love has been slowly telling these broken souls in a sweet way, that they have to be prepared for the day when mi esposo must say, "Farewell."

Slowly ... over ... time ...

It's giving them a chance to mentally prepare for the day when they have to let go of Papi, when it's my love's own time to depart.

Papi knows that time is ticking and that there will come a day when mi esposo must say goodbye, but just like in a romantic relationship, right now is not the 'right time' to break up.

Well, when my love was written about in the newspaper, the trans mafia read it, and are now spitting words of venom over the fact that mi esposo is still working in a facility that employs only 'women'.

What ever happened to free thinking, not being labeled by society, and supporting one another by understanding each other's own journey is just that; their own?

Nope.

The clan is saying that my love is double dipping and being a woman when it's convenient, and being a male when it's advantageous.

One of the biggest ring leaders is adamant that nobody label them as male or female, so how dare they label my love as only a male?

Papi shed a few tears from the hens pecking at my love's beautiful skin.

Cliques.

They are just insecure, scared beings who can't be alone from the clan.  They don't allow free thinking.  They demand you be just like them so they will accept you.

Papi and I are both one in the same kind, who allow each other to think how we feel.  We correct each other when we're too far away from PC thinking that may hurt another.  We love each other and the friends we have, because they, and we, accept each other for who we are.

We don't fit in to these mobs.

We and our friends don't fit in together.

So, in an essence, we are doing our very best to weed out the cliques one by one, find the real friends that we deserve, and feel the pain when the Hen Peckers break our skin.

My love is not hurting anyone by being at work.  Quite the contrary.  Papi's presence would be terribly missed.

If Papi triggered anyone into feeling that my love is an intimidating male, mi esposo would ask to be moved to a different facility in the company.

It's not the pack's choice.

Go on then.  Live your own life.

We'll be living ours with the people who show us love.

Looks like Papi will be making his own Trust List.

and yes.  it was difficult for me to type 'his', so shoot me.

Purge.

The Papirazzi is on full force today.

A very sweet reporter we met the other day just so happens to be doing an article on transgender people in the work force, and asked if my love would like to be interviewed.

Papi has been trying to get a date fixed with her to have this dialogue, but their schedules didn't really work out to do so.

This morning, however, I woke up to hearing my love on the phone with the reporter, answering questions about being transgendered from up to down and all around.

Papi said, "I don't know how personal you want to get about this, but other things happen, like the clit getting bigger."

I giggled while I prepared my Dominican Republic Coffee.

yes ... still some left ... almost out though ... maybe if i tap my heels 3 times, 'there's no place like home'

Then Papi yells out, "Hun, do you think it's gotten bigger than 5 centimeters?"

Oh great.

Don't drag me into this!

"It's bigger."

Papi chuffed to the reporter, "No, it's not.  Don't listen to her.  She has issues with it."

They started to talk about a penis, and my love said, "They don't make one that is like the real thing, so forget it, and besides, my wife would leave me."

ok. so we've got that down. phew.

Papi doing the interview made me proud.  Not that I wasn't already.

In the same realm that I've walked along side my love through this male transformation, Papi has also had to stand beside me in my conflict.

This also means defying the haters.  Those beings who have read about themselves here in my blog and decided to despise me for my honesty, instead of proving me wrong.

Those who bury under the blanket of protection of political ideals, then judge me for my openness about my strife.

Those who say to their followers, "Ok, so now we don't speak to Andréa anymore."

And those who heed the demands who can't think for themselves.

Haters.

I looked to Papi's Facebook page, and under the 'things that inspire me' shout out, I found: My Wife.

For my love to blatantly propel the repugnance of those who resent me, by saying I am an inspiration, made all the pain float away.

For all the support I felt I was needing to give to the person going through male transformation, there is also a balance in our world of love.  The need to support the partner.

My love does this.

Then proceeds to wave the 5 Foot Clitoris at me, "It is not that big."

I answer, "It's huge."

"No it's not."

"It's huge," I repeated.  Then true to any debate in marriage, this mundane back and forth colloquy went on for a good 2 minutes.

"Are you ok with me having my picture in the paper?"

you have to ask a performing extrovert this?

"Of course!  Why wouldn't I be?!"

"Because if people who don't know see it, then they will know your spouse is going through a male transformation."

"That's ok.  It'll weed 'em out faster."

Truly.

Purge.

Asylum.

Trust List.

Strength.

I need you.

Still.

My previous days' bleeding has stopped.  I just hope I don't pick the scab.

Retreat.

Indeed.

Love through text, "Aw honey.  I'm so sorry.  I totally understand, if that's any consolation.  They don't deserve your attention.  Please try not to let them get you down.  Your reality and feelings are important, and they're your own."

Trust.

Honesty; It's my super power.

Perhaps it's time to look at what I would gain by being part of the hate regime.

High School.

She was hen pecked to the point where she believed her life is not worth anyone's time.

wicked stares, whispers of giggles spread the hate ...

This 15 year old girl, who's hands shook, sitting in a steel desk in a marketing class, finally collapsed from the overdose of pills.  My teenager who wanted to look pretty when she was found deceased.  She prepared her hair and make-up for the day's big event.

it's all about the hair ...

Those pills didn't kill her, they only set her up for the support network that began the journey of healing.

She's here with us now.

Sitting with her tears, investigating thoughts that roam her weightless psyche, "Maybe if I was nicer, they'd think twice about hurting me?"

No, they won't little one.  You're already that person.

Nice.

but nice finishes last ...

Your barren passage is not the same as 'theirs'.  Their road is well traveled.  It's course is cut straight, clear and precise so that none of the sheep may be lost.  Theirs is paved with black tar for soft, smooth joy rides.

Our path?

We must cut our own path.  I see very few remnants of those before me, yet thistles have been cut to the ground.  Possibly they were held back so as not to scrape the body following them?  It's quite a rocky trail, so we must watch our footing.

Hard to see where it leads to, as there are many trees in our lush, green forest blocking our view.

However, here there is beauty; delicate birds sing your songs, placid frogs croak and trees creak from the wind's effortless muscle.

It's so very quiet otherwise.  So very alone.

It leaves us time to think about what is meaningful.

Forced respite.

All I need to do is keep walking, and I will find a Trust List's lean-to, and take shelter in if it rains again.

What I don't find here, I can look for when I meet with those of brave security.

Simple as an electronic shout.  My fingers have the power.

I can send my message through air waves.  Tiny particles that make their way to each of of those who exist in fortitude.

They were once on this trail.

They may be lost again.

Perhaps it will be my cabin they come to for asylum next time?

I'll keep the fire stoked for their arrival.

Clique.

My performance went great!

thank you coffee

Only problem with my voice was the lower part of my register.  If that's all the fever took, I'm cool with it.  For now that is.

I'll be keeping the chatting in the ice box at work today.  Gotta make sure my voice is up to snuff for the next 2 shows Friday and Saturday.

It was just wonderful to see so many people last night and receive so much love.

My Person was there.  I told her I was going to the Gender Odyssey and asked if I could catch a ride.

Again I was one upped.  "Sure!  There's even room for you to stay with us if you want!"  This sounds like a great idea, considering the fact that it's right near the conference.

I had asked The Yank if I could stay there, but it may make more sense for me to be somewhere I don't need to take a cab to.

When My Person asked if it was just me who would be attending, I confirmed that it was, only to hear My Person squeal like a teenager with joy!  She took my hands and we were having a moment of bonding and allegiance to the femme club.

She told me about all the different kinds of people we will experience in our workshops.  She told me there would be Rah-Rah-Trannies, there would be Tranny Chasers, and that there would be tranny haters that will make me look like I'm carrying the pom-poms for the Rah-Rah-Tranny cheering foundation.

I told her I just want to find more love and acceptance, and perhaps more allies.  She told me that even she is still at odds.

She told me that there is really nothing wrong with living in both worlds.  Take one hat off and put another hat on.

Sometimes, she's seen as straight, sometimes she's seen as queer.

I just hate the straight part.  I'm so angry that I get thrown into the closet against my will.

When Papi and I go into public, I'll just be the normal straight girl that I fought so hard to leave behind all those years ago.

Then there's the Trans Clique.  There's a very large clique in the transgender community who support each other.  Which is needed.

However, when Papi told me I need to start hanging out with the Trans Clique, I felt uncomfortable.

I don't just accompany femmes just because we're femmes.  I convene with femmes who touch my heart and fill me with strength.

I pal up with straight people who are the sweet souls whom I've loved since before I came out of the closet, and more that I've encountered along my journey of life.

I get together with trans people whom I've watched go through the changes and loved them along the way.

I buddy up with butches that I adore, who have hearts bigger than most people, even though they look so tough on the outside.

There isn't just a clique of people I consort with.  I don't want to hang out with the Trans Clique just because Papi is trans.

I collect my hearts one by one.  I connect with souls who are like minded, sensitive and intuitive in our hearts, and keep them as a prize I've won.

So when Papi told me I need to support mi esposo by hanging out with the Trans Clique, I got very uncomfortable indeed.

Cliques scare the fuck out of me.

They have done damage to me like no other humans on the planet.

Time and time again, they attack the weakest chicken in the coop.  They segregate and plan their attack behind my back, "Ok, so don't talk to Andréa anymore."  They just whisper into one another's ear as they cast their death stare toward me.

Over and over they gang up on one individual and oust them with no effort.  They laugh as a group, pointing from the balcony as I meekly walk away from the home they stole from me.

Repeatedly, they find a way to ostracize one individual to make themselves feel power.  They confirm my fears, and add to the torment of my social anxiety.

Dearest Papi, don't bring me into a place that could take away all the strength I've worked 8 months to build.

I'm still at a point where I am the weak hen who could be pecked to death.

One eye open.

A beautiful thing happens when you're willing; your eyes will open a little bit more at a time, granting you visions of skylines you wouldn't normally see.

What I saw yesterday, was compassion for the transgendered person behind the counter.

From me.

Yes, me.

A Blogger Friend, Dirty Cowgirl, had me thinking about the reversal of the transformation.  As example, if I was in a straight relationship and I had a husband who was going through female transformation.

The support would all be for me.  My spouse would then be the one being ostracized, and quite possibly harassed to a state of depression, fear or even suicide.

I'm not being shunned to my face, but I have lost a few faces off Facebook.  Which is fine by me.  Those who don't understand my grieving over the loss of my butch can go elsewhere and keep their eyes closed to my side of the fence.

this moment brought to you by the strength of my trust list

Here's where the compassion came in though ...

We were out getting a last minute wedding card for this upcoming weekend, and I was having a sugar crash.

this moment brought to you by not taking care of myself by remembering to bring water and a snack.

I went into the nearest store to buy some protein of some sort and the line I chose to buy my chicken leg was being tended to by an obvious F-M.

However, I say obvious, because I have gaydar.  It's possible that the straight folks might not have caught on to this one.

and ... i digress ... sheesh ...

As I listened to this transgendered person speak, it made me realize he has what Papi desires; a lowered voice to pass as a male.

papi is also getting that in between 'teen' voice that sounds like helium ... o good gawd!

At the same time, I saw this person had a caterpillar moustache.  It was about the same fuzziness as Papi's when it's all grown out.

I stared.

I dissected.

I compared.

And after all that, the only thing I saw was a person who is on the same path as my love.  I immediately felt this warmth of caring and wondered, does this person have the same support as mi esposo?

Does this person have family members who would disown them?

Is this person being ridiculed by people in public, because they're going through their male transformation and they're in that 'in between' stage?

I adore people in my life who are F-M.  I love their hearts, and that's all I see.  I've never really cared that they were F-M, I just know I love their souls.  Hence, I've never asked what difficulties they may have had to endure while trying to find themselves.

I felt I needed to be extra sweet to this person, because I just don't know what they've been through during their transformation.

Then as I was leaving the store, I was so grateful that even though my love is going through the 'in between' stage, Papi is so damn handsome.

My love's personality shines through any 'imperfections' mi esposo may see in the mirror.

Occasionally, Papi will express the feeling of insecurity that I might leave because I'm going through such a turbulent time during the transformation.

I now know, and verbally confirm to my love, "Well, if I've made it past the worst of my grieving through this, I think it proves that because I'm still here, I'm going to stay.  Don't you?"

I still have some work to do around acceptance ...

and the 5 foot clitoris!!!

... but overall, I do believe Papi's joking of, "Ah, she'll get over it," does have some truth to it.

It also doesn't hurt that I got my hugs back from mi esposo now that there's been more healing from the top surgery.

I have one eye open and it's really enjoying the brightness of this day.

Utter fear

I'm feeling it big time today; the anxiety of being in a room of people who are not on my 'Trust List'.

I am going to a 'Trust List' friend's 40th birthday party tonight.  This group will be like training wheels, as none of them are in the community of the people I fear could do damage to my weak heart.  There won't be any 'Rah-Rah Tranny!' people there, but there will be people who don't know my secret.

Papi won't be going.  My love has a fever and needs to rest up.  Two of my very closest friends on the 'Trust List' will be there as a safety net along with the birthday girl herself.  This is the only reason I feel I can go, really.

What lingers as my biggest foreboding of possible devastation is next week.

I awoke this morning to read a middle of the night, graveyard shift, love text from mi esposo.  My love also sent one stating that Papi wants to go to another birthday next weekend.

'They' will be there.

The predators.

Those who could peck me, and have the rest of the community agreeing that I'm a horrible person for not accepting my love's male transformation.

Will they point and laugh at my dismay?  Is it a revisiting of the 20 or so people who packed my belongings and changed the locks on my abode?  They left my whole world in the hallway of my condo as they leaned on the balcony rail snickering, maintaining obscene stares of 'you lose'.

Start over my dear.  Just like you have oh so many times in this life.

Next weekend's soiree is with people who accepted me back, even though I left them for 6 years, when I was in that relationship with the bully who told me these people were freaks.

I was manipulated to believe I was never going to be accepted by the person I cherished if I stayed with my community of kinksters and leather lovers.

I left.

They took me back when the ending of this relationship with the beast was authenticated by way of me becoming homeless after returning 'home' from a 16 hour work shift.

They accepted me back.

They may not anymore.

It petrifies me.

I have transphobia when it comes too close to me.  I said I would never date a person who would go through the male transformation.  I love their hearts, but I don't want them in my bed.

Yet here I am,  married to that 'never', and this community is full of F-M people and the people who will strike out at anyone who would think adversely about these souls.

I'm paralyzed.

One person I emailed for support will be at this gala next weekend.  She outright never even emailed me back.  This person is one of the main ringleaders at getting people together in this community.

Will she turn her nose up at me?  Do I ignore her?  Do I pretend the email never happened?

This person once told me she was happy that I was back in the whips 'n chains community, and that she hopes I will stay this time.  I took that as a confirmation of love, but I realize now those words were just as much surface talk as the Facebook page I was abandoned on.

I was duped.

I'm sorry my love.  You may have to do this one without me.

The late bloomer

I have another friend that has been added to the trust list.  I'm realizing that I'm safer than I thought.

I hide in the cocoon of a friend who would exchange tears with me last night, as she spoke about her pain, grieving and fears, after having lost the partner she had in her life.

She represents those I've chosen to support my heart, and I may be able to handle the dregs of the world who may say things that are meant to harm:

Those who live for the opportunity to peck at the weakest chicken in the coup.

It's possible that my encasing has thickened enough to bear the striking of beaks that may try to pierce my skin, but I certainly don't want to try out my theory yet.

I had a few tears last night while talking about my fear of people that has come to a head.

Gotta pop that bitch, but I don't know if she's quite ready.  There is a little more poison that needs to accumulate before I pinch it to release the pressure.  If I go in too early, I'll just wind up with a red swollen mess.

I don't need another experience like the one that backfired when I was in high school when I was ostracized by a clique that I was a part of.

There was confirmation that I was truly unworthy of love.  It stung that fragile child inside, uttering proof that I wasn't the only one who hated me, and it was my first visit to a suicide attempt.

For years, I spiraled into the bewildered delirium of drugs and alcohol to feed the person I felt I needed to be.  The 'I don't care' person.  The slow self-slaughter that would build a firewall higher and more brilliant.

I would look into the mirror at the stranger and say, "See!  Don't you EVER trust anyone again!"

I would accept every hurt as an opportunity to mold me into the person I thought I needed to be to survive in this world of predators.

That had to stop when I got clean and sober.  I couldn't hide behind the 'tough girl' and out came that child who needed everyone to love her again.  She was optimistically waiting in there for the opportunity to shine once more.

I don't have my drugs to hide behind to pretend I don't care this time.  I do care, and all of a sudden, after 11 going on 12 years of being clean and sober, I've finally realized why some people may be a little more private in their lives.

Fear.

I've always been so open about my goings on in life.  This one, I have to keep to myself and my gaggle of friends that I know I can trust.

But the point is, I know who I can trust for now.  I don't really feel the need to binge on collecting people who may or may not love me anymore.  I have all I need.

I have people that I know won't say the words I can't bear to hear:

"You're selfish for not accepting your love's male transformation."

"You have nothing to cry about."

"If you're that upset, then just leave,"

"I don't want to hear you whine about it,"

"You're married to a freak."

Oh, the list can go on and on and on.  I hear the echos of my childhood in every phrase I'm terrified of reliving.

Without my drugs to mask the fear, I hide from those who could do me harm.

They're out there.  I have the proof within the scars I'm finally taking a look at.  They're a deep and permanent part of me.

Truly, love is all you need.

I think I'll have a party.

Day 2

No tears, but it was close I'll tell ya. I think that part of the ability to have two arid days is because Papi told me, "I'm going to stay on the lowest dose of testosterone." I think it gave me a small measure of relief. But, I do take back what I was saying yesterday about actively making music never making me cry. I forgot about writing lyrics that are too close to home.

One of the songs Lin gave me to work on was a piece that we had started months ago. This was months before any idea had entered my mind that my love would be going through male transformation. The topic was about making sure you talk to someone when the troubles in your life get to be too much.

Heed my own words? No. We never do, do we? We are pros at telling people what to do to feel better, but listen to the advice we give? Hell no!! What are you nuts? We know best how to deal with this situation because 'you just don't understand'. Familiar?

It was painful to complete the lyrics, because I know speaking about the fear and pain is the right thing to do, but I'm way too scared to talk about it or the tears will flow and I'll look like a crazed, pale marshmallow again. Not to mention the pain I'm feeling is so raw that I don't have the strength to defend myself or my love if I had an adverse reaction from someone.

I remember when I came out of the closet and thought that everyone that loved me would be supportive.

Wrong.

My 'bff' dumped me in seconds. She believes in god and told me that the bible doesn't approve of homosexuality. So, showing 'love and tolerance', my jesus worshiping friend cast me aside, flicking me like a bothersome cockraoch. It made my world feel like the scariest place I could imagine. Who could I trust if I couldn't trust my closest pal?

So here I am again. Who can I trust? I have a handful of people that I could talk to about the F-M topic and not have them dump me over that, but what about the insanity I'm going through? This is the part I'm afraid of the most.

In the past I've been judged for my mental illness. Mental illness comes in many forms and levels, but people just put everyone into one category if they don't understand it or have never experienced it themselves. The person who sits next to you in class, or at work, or even the person you know very well may have a mental illness and you don't know.

Part of the reason you don't know is because people don't talk about it, lest they be ostracized. I've been there. I have my illness under control, but during this agony over my love's male transformation, it's poking out it's green, festering, abscessed head and doing it's best to show the world who I really could be if it wins this battle.

Who do I trust with that?

I have a chemical imbalance and an eating disorder. My chemical imbalance is taken care of through medication. If I don't take it, I'll wind up suicidal. Taking my medication keeps me alive in the same way someone who has a heart condition would die if they stopped taking their pills.

My eating disorder took a lot of hard work in therapy to deal with, but I now control it, not the other way around. I still see the body in the mirror as less than desirable (that's putting it in the nicest way possible to myself), but I'm not damaging my precious being with a lack of caloric intake so that I can see the woman in the mirror as 'perfect'. The proof that I haven't lost to this demon is being revealed right now.

An eating disorder is a way of controlling one thing: our body. When the world around us can't be bridled, we stoop to the one thing alone that we can bully. Our body. Our food intake. And in this case of terror, it's my love's decision that I can't manipulate. Still, through it all I'm eating in a healthy manner.

I also haven't flipped to the other side of emotional binging. However, I do see that controlling my over-eating is a way for me to find my domination. I've bought all the cookies that I would usually gorge on, yet I'm curbing how many I eat in a day. This is where I see my eating disorder's talons still piercing my skin. I'm very afraid of putting back on the 30 lbs I gained after my brain injury. I worked very hard to lose that weight when I could finally exercise and eat properly. So, I allow myself the treats in a controlled fashion.

I'm in control. Of food. In everything else, I'm so very powerless.

Who do I trust to show my insanity to? Well, I show it to my dear, understanding soul mate and 'you', my imaginary friend. Do you judge me?

Success

I didn't gag at the dump, but more importantly, had a nice beautiful day with my love without tears. I had to give the reminder of the 'no speak' day a few times, but it was a successfully dry day.

So, today it's time to start on the healing again. And I suppose that really does mean I have to cry it out until there's nothing left to weep. I've been told over and over that I have to talk about it, but to date haven't been able to.

There's many reasons; judgement, people gossip, people may not understand, transphobia, embarrassment, ego, and much more including the fact that I just don't want to cry. But today, I start my process of 'getting it off my chest', as my friend ordered me.

I have my first 'get it off my chest' day with one of my friends who was adamant that we get together so I can tell her what the hell is going on with me. I'm afraid she'll try to tell me if I'm this miserable, I should leave. But the tears are not because I feel trapped and want to leave, they're because I'm mourning the woman I married. I'm too weary to defend myself or my love. I just need understanding of what I'm going through. Support of the grief. No judgement and certainly no gossip.

When I made the date to go see her, I think that was the moment that I felt it was possible to heal. I've always healed through speaking out loud to healthy listening ears. I'm also the first person to say to people that you have to get it out of your head and through your mouth before it leaves your soul. But this time, I've been too afraid to let my words out to just anyone. I've felt I don't know who to trust. I've been ostracized in the community a few times from people's untruths to make me look like the villain. I don't want to have that happen again. People scare me. People have no idea what damage they're capable of.

Every person my love tells about being transgendered and going through the male transformation just looks at my love as if to say, "Duh ... I thought you already were!" It's like we were both living in denial that it would happen. Without any effort, I accepted the binding, the packing, using of the male washroom and anything else that my love needed to do to feel better about the body my love was born with. And I suppose I just hoped that that would be enough, because it was what I was comfortable with.

It wasn't enough. And the process begins. For both of us. We're on our paths walking hand in hand with that tiny fence between us. The fence that separates our feelings about the transformation while we walk on our own sides.

Today I surprised myself. I was telling one of the many pets we have that he couldn't go upstairs to the attic. I said, "Sorry Smokey, Papi is sleeping."

Papi. Not Mami.

I've never used that term before, but it felt the only thing I could use that wasn't feminine. I suppose I am getting closer to acceptance. I can't use 'he' ... it's just too much for me ... but I suppose I could use él. We do plan on moving to the Dominican Republic and by then I'll really need to have my fem/masc down because for the most part they are homophobic and of the religious types.

So, I suppose today is a start. I can call my love Papi and él. I will go and cry on my friend's shoulder and tell her 'what's going on'.

Today's mission is to find more healing. That's all I'm asking for. That's my success.