There are things I have not talked about that I feel I should.  I know I said my last post would be the last but here is the thing.  It can’t be, you see this is more of a psychologist than anyone person could be.  The things I write and think on here are very personal and yet apply to so many people I feel.  Its such a messed up world we live in and yet I didn’t always think that way.  At one time I thought the world was very safe yet knew something was wrong something was off in my own house.  My reality was not the same as others I am sure… or maybe it was.  I often wonder how many other households and other people go through the same things if not even worse.  You see there are things I have not talked about in my past that have really shaped my future.  Little demons I need to let go of and forgive, forget about.  I don’t remember much before five years old and don’t know if that was a survival technique.  I often wonder if that is the reason I don’t remember things maybe I don’t want to remember them.  I do however know that what I remember of earlier years are not fond memories.  Well not all of them, there are few fond memories but very few.  Its ironic how we can grow up in an environment where we are taught of other religions and other families being so wrong.  Yet all the while we wonder about those families because we know something is not right in our homes.  I have often wondered if every fanatical person is not really hiding something else.  Maybe their own fears of life?  Maybe they were abused as well as children so they learn to control everything as a coping method.  Then later on they become the abuser because its a form of control.  The cycle continues and continues every generation sometimes getting worse and sometimes someone breaks the cycle.

You see some of my earliest memories are not peaceful, but those of being tossed down stairs wondering if something in my body was going to break.  Being beat with a belt till there were blisters on my butt, because after all the good book did say not to spare the rod and spoil the child.  There is something wrong though with picture, something very wrong.  I learned it was not right to fight back not right to be mad, because after all I deserved the abuse.  I did something very wrong after all I was just a greedy child, or out of line, or loud…  Then I would hear the parents fighting as well and would bury my head deep into my hands to try to block the sound.  I think at a very young age I moved my room to the basement.  This was my choice this was my way to get away and stay away.  I learned at a young age that out of sight it meant I could be out of mind.  It was my survival technique.  I hated spiders and the cold non insulated basement, but I would rather deal with them and not have to be part of what was going on.  You see my little family was never functional and still to this day it is not.  I am sure my parents were quite proud of their little accomplishment that I grew up so well adjusted till I transitioned.  Little did they know the fear they put into me of authority.  Little do they know me at all to be honest.  I don’t know that I really felt like they listened to me.  I mean how could they have?  Really I was there always as I am now.  Yet they didn’t want to see it and pushed it away, just like I moved to a basement.  Often I asked for things that they would never give me, dolls, hair, nails.  I think I got thrown down the stairs not at my house but a church leader for being in their daughters room playing dress up at six.  You see I learned to hide things, stay on the line as much as I could.  I tried not to cross it but was on that bitter edge of what my parents would allow.  It was our way of not talking about it, of avoidance of controlling the outcome of who I was to be.  It was mental manipulation and very effective for years.

I used to fear being disowned, I used to think that would be the worst.  As time has gone on I no longer fear that, you see its been 17 years now I have not lived at my home.  I grew close to my mother for quite some time but we kept things unsaid.  Its part of reason I came out, I was tired of living some lie of who I was supposed to be.  I find it all so ironic, you see my mother prayed for a daughter.  She never realized she had one all along just needed to listen.  Instead I hid, stayed in shadows for fear of what might of happened.  I thank God I did, it probably kept me alive or away from some really deep emotional scaring which I still have anyways.  Something was not right, and I learned what it was.  It was the fear of the unknown, its always the fear of the unknown.  My parents and I do love them choose a religion that was different than both their parents.  You see they found one that condemned the Catholics, the Mormons, and nearly every other denomination out there.  Its kind of sad that this belief I am afraid is almost neo Nazi and has taught some rather pointed hate sermons.  The more of think of it and the issues they must have faced the more I realize it is a form of control even in their religion.  The problem with control is that its an illusion.  No one has control of anything on this earth only what they can do with themselves.  Sometimes I know that can be the biggest challenge to control ourselves.  This is where I had to break the cycle.  This is why I stepped out did something completely crazy.  You see I didn’t want to continue the cycle.  I got control of myself and did what I needed to do to be at peace.  So if that is wrong, then I don’t know what is right anymore.  The cycle had to end and it ended with me.

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