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.    

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A Hypocrite?

Am I being a hypocrite for not being more openly out?  I’m thinking so.  That maybe me being more openly queer is important enough that I should do so.  Why?  Because maybe some of the people that I have known through business or casual relationships would maybe, just maybe, that trans people can be as normal as anyone else.  Except our gender of preference.

We desire more for acceptance and being accepted in society’s mainstream of people.  Being queer doesn’t make us bad people.  Is it offensive to some?  Sure, but that’s not the folks I worry or care about.

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Some Days are Overwhelming, Some are Wondrous

Unless I need to be downtown, most of my days start off slow, gain a little momentum, then fizzle out by 4:00pm. By slow, if I’m out of the shower by 9:30 I’m doing good.

The first dose of hydromorphone starts the day, hormones and a pill to keep all the other pills from destroying my stomach. The hydromorphone numbs the pain enough to get a hot shower, walk and feed the dogs, maybe remember to eat, then run errands. 

Unless I’m nauseated from kidney stones that is, then the day is a write off.  The stones are just starting. It just builds up for months as they get bigger I guess.

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Putting My Queer Journey on Paper, a Leap of…

So it’s Fall and it’s decision time whether or not I’m going to go ahead with this blog.

It’s not that I don’t have the time to write every day, it’s simply a matter of am I gonna stick it out or not. The subject matter is difficult and not 100% pleasant to talk about. It’s going to take a lot of time just to get it set up. A little money, but not a lot so that’s not an issue.

The trouble is, with the mental illness I’m suffering from I seem to put the things that I really love to do aside and don’t just do them anymore. 

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