Well, I managed to frighten myself at work yesterday. For those of you who are squeamish, you might consider not reading the rest of this entry
Well, as of yesterday, "Santa School" has become my most successful piece to date in terms of comments left, surpassing even "The Dead Kid". Fifteen people have taken the time and effort to say something publicly about it, and that is wonderful, and I wish to thank them, as well as everyone who left a kudo. Regardless of how it does in terms of the Christmas contest, it has been an uplifting experience for me. There is only one fly in the ointment so to speak, however. I showed it to my mom, and she said she found it sad.
I Saw Her Walking
I saw her walking down the street, and I stopped .
Clothes are tattered, old suitcase in her hand.
I approached, she flinched.
“You want to hurt me more? Reject me again?” She said.
“I came to say I'm sorry. Please come home.”
“Until you feel guilty again?”
“No. For the rest of our lives, if you are willing.”
We embrace, go home.
I had to do this.
Had to make it right.
And I will.
Because I need her.
Because the girl is me.
Jacob Burrows answered the ad for a mall Santa, and was surprised to discover that one had to actually attend a class before you were allowed to put on the red suit and beard. In fact, he was sent to a day long “Santa School”.
At the class, Jacob spent the day learning how best to act “jolly”, even when things were not going well. Things like when a kid pulls on your beard or pees on your pants.
I am fighting a serious temptation right now. To put it in simple terms, I want to give up, to surrender. I am not talking about killing myself, but just shut down again, like i did as a kid. I have even considered finding a dom/domme and just be a slave, so I dont have to think or feel anything again. I will resist it, but i could use help, and prayers
When you write, do you have a "map" on how the story will go? If you do, has something happened to make you change that, almost like the story had a mind of it's own? I have, it sometimes it makes me wonder if i have my stories, or if they have me.....
I would like to talk about my last two pieces together, because the one led to the other. I started working on "tears of the phoenix" because I was struggling with flashes of attraction toward men, and it was scaring me. As I had jean say, I felt like i was losing the last part of my male self, and i didnt want to. This struggle formed the first half of the story. At the same time, I was struggling with grief over Misty's "Out of the Ashes". I really hurt when Dolores died, and i wanted to say something about how her death affected me.
Author's note This is as true a version of my abuse as I can produce. I have removed some of what happened to me so it was readable, but it is still going to be tough for some people. Please consider your own state of mind before reading, as it may trigger.
I am 9 years old
I was watching "Smallville" the other day, and it got me wondering about the history of the ret-con universe. On the show, the JSA operated in secret until they were driven completely underground. I wonder, do we have any ideas weather or not there might have been meta-gene activations before the current crop? Maybe some historical/mythological characters were early metas. And maybe, just maybe some of them are still around.... something to think about, yes?
My gender journey has reached an interesting point. Sometimes, I am in such pain i dont know how to function. But then, there are days like now. the pain level is less, but more steady, like Chinese water torture. I am not sure exactly what I can do about it. I have done all i can right now, or at least thats what it feels like.
For Misty, for making me cry
The Tears of the Phoenix (A Ret-Con Interlude)
On the satellite known by some as the Moon, there is a cliff. Around it, there is only silence, and cold. This cliff has sat undisturbed for thousands and thousands of years - until today. The first thing an observer would have seen was a new light in the sky, bright and shining and growing brighter as it drew near.
I have something that I would like to be able to share, but I am leery of actually sharing it since it might pain some others here. Basically, I had a flashback last night, and instead of being just a victim, i thought about writing it down. The result is a nearly full description of one of the last times i was assaulted. Trouble is, too many people here have had rapes happen to them, and i have no desire to bring those memories back for them unless they can handle them. Any ideas?
Well, apparently, my last piece was a dud. As the saying goes, even Babe Ruth struck out more times than he hit home runs, and i am most definitely NOT the Babe Ruth of writing. But the experiance has taught me a lesson. I am a pretty needy girl when it comes to my work. I thrive on praise, and wither without it. But i think i need to change that if i am going to keep writing. Still, I hope at least some of the time i hit a "home run"....
A few days ago, I had causally mentioned to my mom that next time i had some cash, I wanted to look for a ladies coat. To my surprise and delight, today she took me shopping. Even though i went in male clothes, it felt like a genuine mother-daughter shopping trip. We found a nice coat that fit me, and I feel much better for it. Do I have the best mom, or what?
Looking at the responses I got from my last entry, I feel I need to explain a bit about my faith. When I first became a Christian, I had no real teachers in the faith. I got a bible, and read it from cover to cover several times. Some things I understood, some I did not, but I had no one to ask. Since I was a "Christ"-ian, I figured I should read what Christ said and use that as my guide. Unfortunately, there was nothing that really covered the area of my tg, at least in the new testament.
I went to an online chat (IMVU, if you care to know the name) and decided to visit a christian room and get some prayer support. Unfortunately, one of the people there noticed my avatar was wearing a TG symbol, and asked me about it. I tried to explain my history, how I felt. Her response was to tell me i needed deliverance from a demon. I told her how i had prayed about this since i became a christian, prayed, begged, cried. How i even tried to kill myself, and even asked God to kill me rather than let me offend Him. How i finally reached the point where i had to accept what I am.
I would like to tell you guys and gals about my character "Yaddie". Yaddie came about because of one of those moments i get, where i think i get a glimpse of the future, without being able to understand what i have seen. I came up with yaddie at about 6 or 7 years old. I found a tennis ball with a rip in it, making it look like it had a mouth, and being the sort of kid i was, i promptly took a marker on it and drew eyes on it and gave it a name - Yaddie. How was that a glimpse of the future?
When I was just a young child,
you took me by the hand
You said “welcome to the family
It is a rock on which you can stand
No matter where you go
And no matter what you do
You can always be sure
We will be there for you”
But when I came out as transgender
You rejected your own kin
You said don’t darken your door
As long as I continue in such “sin”
On our wedding day my dear
We both had taken vows
To love and honour all our lives
Be as close as God allows
I am looking for a story, but i don't have much to help the search. It was a tg version of some stories of Jesus, including one that redid the story of the woman at the well. any ideas?
Author's note. This isn't exactly a Christmas story. It is a story that takes place at Christmas, and that's different.
It was inspection time in Hell again. Once a year, on the anniversary of the beginning of that terrible period called the Incarnation, an angel came down to the dark pit and observed.
At first, this had rankled Satan. He felt like it was rubbing his face in it. But after a while, he realized it was an opportunity to show off his successes, and it seemed like there were more of those every year.
When I first started this journal, the only real rule I set for myself was that I was going to be as honest as I possibly could, and I think i am succeeding.
Mostly, it really hasnt been much of a struggle, other than the difficulty of finding the best words.
I have talked about good times, bad times, and all the times in between, and most of the time, I have felt no hesitation.
Indeed, most of the time, i have been anxious to share.
But today, I find myself struggling to write this.
I want to just babble on about my writing, or whatever.
I just had to give an update here: I have come out to my boss at work. I have talked about my assault, and was giving her an update, and she asked me (making sure to let me know that i had the right to say it was none of her business), if i was gay, and that gave me the opening to tell her about my trans status. She was fairly nonplussed and gave me some indication that if the day came that i wanted to be working as Dorothy FT, she would do what she could to help. (unofficially) It is a big weight off my shoulders.
I may have mentioned before, I am not a fun person to sleep with. Between night terrors, snoring, and the simple fact i dont sit still, even when i am dreaming. But last night was a topper. I remember having a dream of going downstairs, picking up a pile of presents, and returning to my room. Along the way i had turned off my alarm. Once the dream was over, i woke, and it had felt so real i actually got up to check if i had brought stuff up. I hadnt, but I had turned off my alarm, and there were signs i really had left my bed while asleep. It's a little frightening, to be honest. Ah, well.
For those of you who are interested in such things, i would like to share with you how "No Son of Mine" came about. It started with the old Genesis song of the same name. (you can read the lyrics at: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/g/genesis/no_son_of_mine.html) Because i could truly identify with the character in the song, it was a moving piece for me from the first time I heard it. It ends pretty darkly, and at some level that bothered me. I wanted some hope, some possibility of a reconciliation. Then i saw the "loophole".
Had another series of flashbacks yesterday, and thank God for the friends who chatted with me online as i worked my way through it. I am finding all kinds of ironies in my struggles, both with the assaults and with my gender. For example, I realized that i owed to my abusive step-father a thanks, because by forcing us to move when he did, I was able to escape from the monster who was using me. And despite his other flaws, he never touched me sexually, which gave me some opportunity to heal enough to function.
Former boy, now transformed, walks to where her father still lives.
Rings the bell, fights the urge to run away.
Old man answers, still rigid and unbending despite the years.
He looks at who it is, his face a stone mask.
“I told you when you left, you are no son of mine.”
Her heart breaks.
His expression softens.
“But, if you can forgive an old fool, I would be honored if you let me call you my daughter.”
Well, with all the stuff i have been going through lately, I honestly don't know when or even if i will be able to get back to "the lucky one". It requires a goofy, silly mood, and right now i just dont have it. Frankly, I am having trouble having the concentration needed to do any writing at all, so i may go a while before i have new stuff to post. I will still comment and give kudos, still support all of you when i can, but the writing may have to wait until i am more stable. Hugs to all.
Well, it has been an interesting day, to say the least. I am still fighting a bit of a cold, so I chose to stay home and not go to church today. I went on a chat site to talk to some friends about my depression, and while we were talking, I started having a pretty strong flashback. One of my friends there has my phone number, so she called me, and listened while i cried to the point i could barely talk. Feeling slightly better after i unloaded, i fidgeted, played video games, and made lunch. Then, some remnant of my flashback nagged at me, and i started to write.
A Second Letter from a (Formerly) Broken Toy
To the person who abused me:
I wrote you a letter some time ago, and today I felt compelled to write another.
You see, things have changed for me. I have recovered most of the memories I suppressed and I understand better what happened to me while I was in your “care.”
The worst part of my downs is the horrible feeling of hopelessness i suffer with. It is hard to even conceive of a good outcome, much less make positive plans. I guess i thought that the anti-depressants would be a magic fix, and not surprisingly, they are not. I am still stuck in male form, still without even hope that i will be able to change that, and wishing that it all would just end. But I am needed, by my daughter, my mother, even my ex, and taking my life would be utterly selfish. I appreciate all the support i am getting here, and I will find a way to hold on.
Well, it seems like i am fighting the first major depression since i started taking my medication. It started with a sleepless night last night, and pretty much has gone downhill from there. hopefully, i can ride it out, and find a way to hold on until it ends.
The Lucky One
(Part 2, or “When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping”)
Hay, kids! What time is it? It’s Fantastic Fluke time! (note to the owners of the Howdy whoever show, please don’t sue me. I am just funning, and I have already had a cease and desist order from Disney from borrowing the theme from the Mickey Mouse Club by accident in my first entry)
Yessirry, its your pal, the Flukester, back with more of my amazing origin!
Sometimes, i find it hard to hold back from just telling everybody about my gender struggles, and getting it over with. Other times, I realize that to do that would bring all the consequences down on my head, without actually being able to have any real positive results, except I would be free from this terrible burden of having to lie, especially to the people i care about. I pray to God that I can endure, since I see no way to move forward at this time.
I had a bit of trouble posting "She". You see, it was intended to be one word per line, but when i went to post it, i got an error message saying i had less than 10 words. (I counted, i did have more). So i ended up putting two words on some lines with a slash between, and that worked. Anybody know why this error message occurred?
I would like to take a moment and talk about the origins of the story i published called "A Cop's Story" It stared during a horrible moment, but by the time I finished writing it, it had become a sign of my progress. You see, I started having a flashback at work, and it was terrible, and i wasn't in a position to do much at that moment. But, instead of just being a victim, I responded by writing, and before long, i had mastered the flashback, and i had crafted (what i think) is a pretty good little story too.
She / Born
Nameless / Hidden
He / Named
Loved / Known
Meeting / Merging
Pain / Guilt
Sorrow / Regrets
She / Buried
Alive / Helpless
Whispers / Nudges
Author's note: this is somewhat based on my real experiences, although slightly fictionalized. It has some strong themes, involving the abuse of a child, but I think i handled it with enough sensitivity that it is readable, but the reader is hereby cautioned in case i have failed. I promise, I will get back to silliness of "The Lucky One" soon.
A Cop’s Story
Well, color me overwhelmed. The response to the first chapter of "The Lucky One" was amazing, and I thank everyone who has left a comment, you made a middle-age lady very happy. But I have other concerns to share with you all. I sort of have a crush, and its driving me crazy. She works at the day care that my daughter attends, and not only is she pretty, she is kind, gentle, and super nice. She is like a warm fire on a cool night, just being near her makes me feel better about everything. But, there are a few problems with asking her out. First, i am assuming she is taken.
Well, I posted my latest story, and I am waiting to see how well it is received. I am not going to beg here for kudos or comments unless they are deserved, but weather or not the story continues will depend somewhat on the response. I happen to think it was funny, but I am the AUTHOR for heaven's sake, so what do I know? I hope it lightened at least a few people's day, but we will have to see.
Quick note: this is not a Ret-Con story. It is inspired by some comics I read as a kid, but I hope it is a little different from anything else out there.
The Lucky One (part 1)
Well, hay there, hi there ho there! Or, as my dear friend Stan Lee likes to say “Face front, true believers!” (I better be careful about saying that. Don’t need to annoy The Stanster, much less his horde of marvellous Marvel Zombie lawyers… )
Well, this might be my last update for a bit. I am writing like crazy, and i would like to finish my current project before life catches up with me. Hugs to all, and I will be back when i can post it.
Well, today is the transgender day of remembrance. Have things got better? Probably. I mean, I have gone around Edmonton in a skirt and not drawn any serious negative reaction. And there is a bill in our Parliament that will finally put an end to discrimination based on gender expression or identity, assuming it ever comes up to a vote and passes. But things are less good in other places, and even here, I risk the loss of my child if I move forward. (Even if the ex would be wrong legally, it would be up to me to go to a court to get access, and I simply cannot afford it).
At a supermarket, an overweight, balding, middle-aged man bumps into young mother with small child.
“I am sorry.”
“No it was my fault”
when i decide to leave a comment, there is a "signature" on the body section, just my screen name. Now, some people have sayings or even pictures that they use whenever they leave a comment, and i assume they dont have to retype it every time. How can i do this as well?
Well, its been kinda a good news/bad news day. To start with the bad news, I got a reply of sorts to the reply I had sent to the fellow on the christian support group. Unfortunately, it was less than charitable, or at least that is how I saw it. At the moment I was reading it, I was on a down, so it was like a slap to my face. But, (and this is the good news) fortunately, some christian friends of mine were online, and comforted me. Then, to make things even better, I got a gift from Richie (our fellow author here on BC) - a pair of very nice wigs.
I have discovered a side effect of my little breakthrough the other day. I seem to have lost any protection i had from my emotions and they are in overdrive. I am hyper-cycling, with my ups and downs going like a roller coaster traveling at about Mach 10. I am going from stratospheric highs to crying from utter depths of depression in less time than it took to write this paragraph. I am not sure exactly what I can do about this, except ride it out and hope things slow down soon.
Well, the author of that hurtful message sent me a message to apologize, and although his message is too long for me to share, I would like to share my response.
I find myself conflicted. I appreciate the apology, and I forgive you. But may i point out a couple of things? First, talking about me to (other member) or anybody else behind my back is not any different than any other form of gossip. Perhaps you will learn from this to not say something about a person that you wouldn’t want them to hear.
Well, first i want to thank everyone who offered support to me by leaving a comment on my last entry. Each one of you helped me greatly, and I thank and bless you. But I also have some big news to share. First, I have to relate a story, and forgive me if I have told it before: When I was 16 years old, I saw the movie "The Wall", and I became fascinated with the concept of having a wall. I then did something a little odd - I prayed to God to have my walls come down. Well, be careful what you pray for, to mangle a quote. I discovered that I didn't just have walls to keep others out.