be it ever so humble No!!!!!!!!!!!!

Being the greatest palace of all times there is no place like home. Life Love Family Maybe a Project or Two. It is a great life

I have my id finally it is real. thought it would never happen but for the first time the freedom has been granted to me and it feels wonderful.

My family is love. lala lala. must be the red hair dye

now how did that happen. of the grid of communication doing the family thing. gosh I hope they want to keep me forever.I so want to spoil and over protect them and deliver way more of the world to them than what I am able. Everyone needs a crazy aunt/sister out there that loves unconditionally, one dreams love and family infinitely to give and receive forever. If it all ended tomorrow, feel like it was a good life hope tomorrow never comes,yet that is never to be my decision. My family will out grow me, against my wishes my job as I take it is to help them there quickly as can be accomplished though it is ok to savor every precious moment.

I'm excited; never had an invite before. We will be there with bells on.
Am I a part of a thriving community? No longer just the last child of a group of old men and old women.

When the devil disturbs my grandmother; a responce is required though it be difficult. It is sad what I allowed to happen to me in my life, but the bigger the beast the deeper the grave to inter the past into the pages of our own personal history. Life difficulties and tragedies are what we make of them. Some things take a equal portion of time to put behind as they took once in center stage but slowly they fade. The pain but a flicker and then all calm.

Another and I are in love. The extent of it happened in an instant and a pull apart stitches us together further. She loves me in my unconstant state but releases me as a butterfly; unchanging would be my death. She addresses me in conversation as her spouse. In too deep and to much of a fool we both are to back out such is the attraction. Danger in our direction ed, self-harm, addiction, yet strong commitment and avoidence of abusive relationship; a passionate and compassionate nature to hold us through. We approach the new year.
October is fresh; we have a three year old to raise. Is it true? Am I a mother?

What ever you want to call it ticks me off. Driving all the way from New Orleans to Biloxi going to the electrolysis to have the surge stop me before the Ocean Springs bridge in a hurricane, priceless. Just random thoughts before the a.m. and random activities. No the process has no pause. Life did for to long; one more interruption to renew that over abundant patience of mine, then the city patrols could just shoot me. To be a business woman you have to mean business. Some of what awaits me is not my forte but if anything always driven describes me best.

Keeping up appearences in the yard keeps you out of jail here, so cutting the grass between hurricane squalls is not that insane right? It is just another form of self protection. Besides it burns of excess weight that would otherwise accumulate, and another hard rain could go toward an inside activity; up north in winter is unimaginable to me. New Orleans closed for an entire weekend and nothing but a few tucked away bars to just sit at. Cabin fever drives me mad. My home is still empty and I am ready to start living. Maybe next storm, something will be already established. :( At least my friend is online.

Mystic

It went ok; made the last few days calories in alcohol, even if it is just a glass but it helped. Another destroyer is about to come a shore to mark my first week in an apartment; may the levee hold. I am way away from my area now after curfew. Tomorrow is electrolysis and the largest hurricane does not effect the need. Any progress staves off insanity and draws in hope. A new home where I belong; do you think the people ever will except me as mam. No just handsome and few understand the implications of the insult that ride their complement. In the quirks of the eccentrics, I have been deemed 50/50 or the half-ling. Trans-identified in rudeness of imperfect people leaves a strange comfort. An ever included correction in pronoun designation when others mis-lead themselves may follow me forever; the game is who will wear out first them or I? Who wins me or my e.d.? Ana loves me. Mia too. Who else should vie for my affections as these often converge in comfort at times? Should I join them in the embrace. Love myself? Therapist are more optimistic, but this is more of a threesome. Yet, we only survive if I find a love for myself. ABC works well for us all; however, it is not I, surviving, Ana is carrying me as Mia has also. Both of their frames are frail; if they have carried me often. May be, just perhaps when I am walking then I could carry them. We are one; are lives are entwined forever and always. In balance, we survive.
Our torture hidden for 28 years. Obvious at times, agitated by the response; but the presence unknown. A sickening talent.
My life, my gender partially obscured hidden by my over the top optimism for years. Protection from wrongful hospitalization due to ownership by another allows for some rather eccentric behavior even amongst people of an independent nature. The step of a removal process real, visible, and avoidable.
The adaptation keeps freedom only partial (it is called survival). One skill based on compromise for the sake of pure survival leads to destruction. The knowledge of being owned makes one transferable goods My window of opportunity fades into twelve years of abuse and manipulation. We were "damaged goods" not my terminology. My opportunity is this year. Would I allow my chances to pass. Hide until my value is established or escape though the open cage door. Ana/mia carried me. Let us be me.
My petition(s) has to go before the courts-- the path(s) are clear but not entirely painless. It is time to secure freedom. Live.
A life secured makes the insurmountable easier. And existence easier to bare. Design the community of your own do not wait for it.

Quote of the day:
"When they burry me six feet under, In the dirt, Down below the red clay, With me in that wooden box, Burry my tools with me. So that when I get to hell. I can build my own heaven."