Journal - Page 2 of 13 - The Queer KYD

January 3, 2026January 3, 2026

Coming Out to My Kids (or the Second longest Day of My Life)

I have a great fear of rejection I suppose. That might be enough to write a separate post all on its own, why that developed over the years. It might be a symptom of PTSD, or being queer, or my relationship with my father. Who knows what really. Maybe the fear of rejection comes from moving every year in grade school, and having to try to blend in and make friends.

I noticed it occurring this week again, as demonstrated by my inability to look at a post I made on Facebook. Just like the email sent to my kids 2 years ago, living in fear of what they would say.

December 20, 2025December 20, 2025

A Roller Coaster When a Ferris Wheel is Needed

I’m stuck on this ride and can’t get off. I’m trying real hard…inside…to turn things around.

I have been unable to post or write anything. Which is frustrating in itself, just adds to the pile. I have to remind myself that writing while in the deepest throes of depression may be a way out. A way off this ride.

Don’t expect much, because doing anything while suffering from depression is getting to be damn difficult.

December 15, 2025December 15, 2025

The Ladybug, Tossed Out In The Cold.

Author’s note: I haven’t posted for some time, my apologies. I find myself slowly recovering from eye surgery, winter has descended in full force, and I’m really down. There’s little I can do, simply make it through each day.

I’m not done…yet

I was stuck in bed again, well the couch and bed, recouping from eye surgery. Laser cataract treatment to be exact, finally completed 10 months after the retinal surgery. They basically removed the real lens that was clouded over from the first surgery and popped in a plastic one. All for a measly sum of $1300 out of pocket.

The operation itself wasn’t bad compared to the first one, 30 minutes versus 3 hours. Even the recovery time is a lot easier, I simply have to put two dozen drops in my right eye everyday, don’t bend over and don’t pick up anything more than 10 pounds.

Which is a problem in itself.

December 12, 2025December 12, 2025

A Short Break in a Long Life

There’s no point to this, I just needed to write for myself.

I wish I could take a break, as we all probably do. I don’t mean two weeks on the beach in Cancun or the Mayan Riviera. Although that would be nice, I agree. I mean just escaping this body and the ills of pain and depression for a while. Sleep would help, and would at least give me some time to just not think.

A break from a mind always in overdrive. but can’t rely on alcohol to turn it off. Yeah that may have worked, sometimes, but the side effects were worse than the depression, fed the disease.

I had to take a break from writing. I haven’t been posting simply because my body, with all its aches and pains, was dictating the mood. When you’re in so much pain and constantly nauseated it’s difficult to concentrate, and as such my writing goes out the window.

November 24, 2025November 24, 2025

Food for Thought: A cry for help perhaps?

Sorry if I confused you with the title, but I haven’t switched over to the dark side of recipe blogging. That’s clever, calling food blogging the dark side, unless it’s like me and the recipe is for burnt toast.

Still the same boring old queer stuff, but the following conversation with Mrs. K really provided me with some food for thought, and god knows I don’t think enough.

Before you read all the gibberish it may help if we review some of the jargon used in the queer world. Sort of a brief of who’s what. Read on.

November 19, 2025November 24, 2025

Take the Good with the Bad

Or is that the other way around, perhaps the bad with the good? Either way life has its ups and downs, I just happen to have more of the latter. I could give up and give in, but can’t. Not yet anyway.

The other morning I woke up early, when the missus was out of town for a few days on business. She left only after I reassured her I would be okay and could look after the three of us. At least the dogs would be fine.

I’d been bedridden for the last 6 days. Apparently I’ve developed a serious food allergy of some kind, but we have yet to figure out what exactly. We’re narrowing it down to pork, seafood, and/or a variety of spices. Okay, that’s not too narrow. This is the second time in 2 months this has occurred. It takes a full week until I feel half way normal, a full week of hell. In the last 40 days I’ve spent 18 in bed. Most of those I couldn’t even manage feeding the dogs.

November 13, 2025November 24, 2025

I’m Holding On and Waiting

I’m having a real tough time of it. Real tough. So bad I can’t hardly explain it. My body is directing the show, being bedridden for 20 days out of the last 45 days So sick all I can do is lie in bed, my mind not able to focus on even the smallest task. I turn on the TV for 24 hours to try to drown out the pain. Doesn’t work.

Thank god I have a woman who loves me deeply for some damn reason. She does nothing but care for me. And my two dogs, my only real friends. I know I’m lucky, and I fall more in love with her every day. Love has no boundaries right?

The only thing I manage to do is sit at the piano. Music never stops playing in my head, my own personal background music that only I can hear. Continuous, but no one else’s songs but my own. Something I’ve written and it’s stuck in my head. Sometimes I wish it would stop, but glad it never does.

October 29, 2025November 9, 2025

Transition or Die

I first heard the phrase “transition or die” some thirty years ago, and found it rang so true for me. Partly because I’ve lived a good part of my life fighting and killing myself over being trans. All because of denial. Transition or Die. Not like you would keel over if you didn’t transition, just don’t ever expect to be content or complete. A life that could have been happier, better lived, more worthwhile if only I had accepted myself. Instead, a good part of my life was wasted. “Being wasted” is more like it.

No one chooses this path, no one says “hey I think I’ll be trans for the fun of it” as there is nothing fun about it. Or easy. Transitioning may mean the loss of a job, a career, and friends or family. Trying to bury one’s true identity because of social stigma. The world lacks understanding or knowledge of what it means to be a trans individual, because all they see is a one-sided dialogue from people who find us appalling.

It’s a horrible life. A slow and miserable death really.

October 20, 2025October 24, 2025

A Stone’s Throw Away

The other day I was out and about with the two Frenchies, taking advantage of some unseasonable weather. It’s the middle of October and we’re at 72 degrees with the sun beating down on you. Nothing better than some sun on old arthritic bones like mine.

Some leaves are turning while others are just as confused as the rest of us living creatures. Where’s the chilly winds and frost? Global warming must be the cause. I’m a firm believer that we have polluted the planet beyond its ability to correct the carbon emissions from 8 billion cars in constant motion.

Today we head out on our typical walk, where I simply follow along and let the two of them lead the way and set the direction we take. Out the townhouse complex and its decision time. Left for a block and a half walk until we’re forced to retrace our steps due to traffic. Or right, which takes us to the old Baptist church and the potential for walking through untold blocks of quiet residential streets.

So Blueman went left, Lucifer went right, and I’m stuck like a wishbone waiting to be split in two at Thanksgiving. Blueman won out due to his brute strength versus his kid sister, and off we went with him in the lead. I think he does this knowing full well going this direction results in too short of a journey to burn off some energy and we’ll go the other direction as well. Smart little bugger.

But as soon as we make the turn onto the sidewalk something catches my eye…

October 19, 2025October 19, 2025

Another Dream , Another Day

“In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, until in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God”. –

From the play Agamemnon by Aeschylus, 458 BC.

The two types of pain, one being physical, the other from the heart. Although the physical pain becomes overwhelming at times, beyond my capabilities to endure, it pales in comparison to the mental anguish we all may have to bear.

Broken heart. I don’t know when mankind started associating our souls and life with the heart, although it does seem to be accurate. Broken heart, heartache, makes no difference, but everyone understands that pain. Heartfelt, real honest. A pain so deep you swear it will kill you at times.