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Magical World

Wouldn't it be lovely if, with just a twitch of the nose, life, or any aspect of it could be changed. Instead, positive changes always seem to involve tremendously hard work, determination, and endless setbacks. How lovely it would be to have the powers of Samantha Stephens.

Thursday, November 30, 2006

Woo hoo! Can I?

by Tolkien Boy

I've thought about it quite a while:
I do not like the pedophile.
He may be cute, and he may smile.
Still, I hate the pedophile.
In fact, I find it quite a trial
there's such a thing as pedophile.
His logic just is not my style
My anger he will often rile
he fills my tharynx up with bile
that stupid, stupid pedophile.

Dedicated to the Memory of Xanadu

You have tried to make yourself an authority on me, my experiences, and my blog. And you have had the audacity to misquote the Bible to make it suit your purposes. You have used "love" as a panoptic excuse for defiling the immature bodies of children in order to satisfy your sexual needs. You have disregarded all that the Bible actually says about chastity, purity, sex, morality, and virtue, and yet you persist in using it to validify your illogical arguments. I refuse to continue to address one as ill-informed and ignorant as you. When you have actually read the Bible (I have, by the way, more than once), and can cite the chapter and verse where God says, "Yeah, I think sex with a nine or ten-year-old of your same gender sounds like a great plan!" please pass that on to me. In the meantime, while you search for that reference, here are some others you might want to read (I, personally, read the King James version, but I'll understand if you need a version that's takes a little less work for you to read and comprehend), and I've included some word definitions to make it even easier for you:
1. Fornication: Voluntary sexual intercourse between persons not married to each other
1 Cor. 6:9-20, 1 Cor. 7:2, 1 Cor. 10:8, 1 Thes. 4:3
2. The Lord's view of a child's role in the home (i.e., Xanadu's nescient sentiment that children are the voiceless oppressed): Proverbs 4:1, Eph. 6:1, Col. 3:20, 1 Tim. 3:4
3. Lust: A strong sexual desire
Gal. 5:16-19, 1 Thes. 4:5 (concupiscence: A desire for sexual intimacy), 1 Peter 2:11

Now, I must address your attack on my personal character as you insinuate that I am a compeer with Hitler or any other infamous entity intent on committing genocide. First, I have never at any time threatened you with harm. I have not, as is my usual custom, tracked your location and reported you to the local authorities (although I do know your general locale, I do not wish to know more, but if I did want to know...I could...). The worst thing that I have done is object to your asinine claims that I am closed-minded, ill-informed, and uneducated. Speaking of which, you should understand your words before using them. The word "reification" means: regarding something abstract as a material thing, or representing a human being as a physical thing deprived of personal qualities or individuality, hence your sentence: "It’s interesting to see that the kind of feedback you want is simply reification of what you deem to be socially acceptable..." makes no sense, but that seems to happen a lot when you use big words. I am insulted that you would compare me to a world leader who sought to destroy a race of people--especially as the only injury you can possibly claim is that of being unwanted on MY BLOG. Please remember that this place in cyberspace does not belong to you--however, you could have one if you were courageous enough to make yourself known in a forum where your presence doesn't hurt another human being. And by the way, you're not the first to be unwanted here, you probably won't be the last. If you had taken the time to read about the actual purpose of this blog, you would understand that while I adore the majority of people who visit me, who encourage and sustain me, and I try to do the same for them, my purpose in writing is therapeutic and really has nothing to do with the general public. I would write with, or without them. I appreciate their feedback, but it is not necessary for my blog to serve it's purpose.

And so, while I understand that my next step will further exacerbate your feelings of being a pariah, I quite honestly don't care. My blogging purpose has never been to offer validation to every pedophile who might want to stop by, especially one who feels the need to spout self-pity in the comment sections of other bloggers (especially in the cowardice of initial anonymity), but has not the fortitude to start his own blog where he might actually be able to say something and defend it with the blog mantra: THIS IS MY BLOG! So, as you suggested, from this point forward, on this, MY BLOG, you are hereby deleted. I've had more than my share of contact with pedophiles, therefore, in the space of safety and healing that I have created here, you are no longer allowed to be visible, and you are most definitely not welcome.

Last but not least: Kim, thank you for asking him to leave first. AO, thank you for asking him to leave with great intensity and eloquence. The Great -L-, thank you for swearing about him in our chat, and for letting him know exactly who he really is, OH! and for telling him to leave twice. AtP, thanks for stepping out of your comfort zone and letting him know that no one really cares about his rhetoric. Anonymous (even though I know who you really are), thanks for backing me up, trying to inspire some conscience in the reprobate who visits me, and I love you with everything that I am, as well.

Good-bye Xanadu. I'd tell you the good things I've accomplished during your visitations--but then you'd want to take credit for them. And any progress I've made has come through my own efforts and the listening ears, support, and incredibly patient love from my family and friends. It's amazing to me that even when I'm thrown a curve, my Heavenly Father makes certain that the people I need are always in place to make certain I never have to walk alone.

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

The Best Part of Waking Up...

Five days weekly I teach seminary. This year we're discussing the Doctrine & Covenants--but it makes no difference to me what the topic is. I love the time I spend with the young men and women in my class. I know more about each of them than I probably should. I've talked to them individually, asked questions, laughed, hugged them. I know many things that hurt them, make them happy, frustrate them. Some are fluent readers, some are not--but all are willing to take a turn reading aloud a scripture or a quote when asked. Some get good grades easily, others struggle for their C's. There are many different ideas, personalities, and backgrounds coming together each weekday morning.

Sometimes it's as if I can feel their souls. There is an inherent goodness in each one of them. I'm very aware that some of them struggle with opposition daily in varying degrees. Some of that opposition is strong, and daunting. And yet they carry with them an undaunted spirit and an optimism in spite perceived troubles or sadness. They are very strong.

I wonder how much of what I say actually matters. Probably very little. It's the situation that is important--the coming together and gaining strength through common goals, camaraderie, feeling the Spirit (hopefully), and laughing--a lot. I am strengthened by these young friends. Each weekday, for just under an hour, I can escape from all that might make me sad, and spend time with some of the best people on earth. I listen to them talk and discuss. I laugh at David and DJ trying to play "I Heard the Bells" as an excruciating duet, while the rest of the class giggles as they sing. I hear the devotionals, some well-prepared, some less prepared, but all presented with willingness and a desire to express important thoughts to friends. I cling to the words of each prayer, and as they leave me each day, my heart says my own prayer entreating our Father to keep these beautiful young men and women safe--to help them know how important they are--to let them be aware of His love for them.

I wake up in the morning, happy that I am so blessed to have contact each day with my seminary students. If they take only a few things away from our time together this year, I hope it will be these:
1. Each one of them is a unique individual with a work only he or she can do (i.e., everyone has a "job" suited only to him/her).
2. Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world. Only through Him can we be redeemed. He has the ability to care for us when we are sad, hurt, angry, sinful, or wanting in any way. His love for us is greater than any other. Our love for Him should be no less.
3. We share a Father who loves us and has provided a way for us to return to Him. He has infinite blessings in store for each of His children. The receipt of those blessing (how many and to what extent) is our choice. He will allow us every opportunity to partake of all that He wishes to bestow upon us. He loves us enough to let us decide what to do with our lives, and He has set us free with the hope that our love for Him is sufficient to bring us back one day.
4. I love them. If they remember one thing about me, I hope it's that they know I love them.

Today I just have to acknowledge how incredibly blessed I am. It's not everyone who has the privilege of interacting each morning with some of God's choicest sons and daughters. I am doubly blessed in that one of those sons of God is also my own sweet son, and another is a very special friend. What more could I ask? I can't think of anything.

Monday, November 27, 2006


I can't remember ever hating anyone--except maybe my mom, and she probably didn't deserve it. I remember feelings of deep hurt, anguish, loneliness, pain and fear--but I don't remember hating a person, ever.

Today I'm feeling hatred, and I don't like it. It's dark and ugly, and makes me feel very small.

I realized over the past three days that although there are parts of my cousin that I've always loved and cherished, there are also parts that I hate. I'm certain that I've hated him for a long time, but I've never allowed myself to feel it. I'm feeling it today.

Reasons I hate the first David:
1. He betrayed me. I thought he loved me. He didn't. I thought he was my friend. He wasn't.
2. He hurt me in ways I could not understand.
3. He damaged me internally. My gynecologist told me that my uterus would never be able to carry a baby to term. She was right. The boys were both at least five weeks early. Tabitha tried to be born at 26 weeks. I was able to carry her six weeks more under constant bed rest and many days/nights in the hospital. Yesterday I held my four month old nephew. I rocked him to sleep. I hated my cousin for robbing me of healthy babies, endowing me with problems conceiving, and limiting the number I could have.
4. He gave me nightmares that don't seem to want to leave. Dreams filled with sadness and aching. Fantasies of fear, and a knowledge that I am never safe.
5. He gave me gifts. Trinkets. As if that could mend what he had broken inside of me.
6. He robbed me of my dignity and self-respect--and I am still looking for it. Perhaps it will never be found. But I want it back.
7. He took away from me the natural ability to be able to view sex as beautiful and sacred. I have to remind myself that it's a gift from God, that it really isn't violent and frightening, and that it is meant to bring me closer to my husband. Sexual expression should not make one feel sad beyond measure. It should not make one feel broken and tired. It should not stir up memories of being used and discarded. I hate him for that.
8. He left me to clean up whatever mess was made. And I did so, silently screaming about something so frightful it was beyond all endurance. And today, I am still cleaning up the mess he left behind. Only this time it's all inside me. It fills me up until there is no room left. And I have nowhere to put it--so I keep it.
9. He had no respect for me. And I finally realize that even if I had said to stop, he probably wouldn't have. I was nothing to him--and that disdain hurts incredibly. Every creature on God's earth deserves respect. I hate him for making me feel less than human, objectified, used, and filthy.
10. Because of him, I am finally feeling hate--and I think I hate him the most for this reason.

I know the answers. I know Christ takes care of it all--if I'll allow him to do so. I'm just a little overwhelmed right now, feeling something black and horrible, and praying I make it through this day.

Darrin is an amazing Bishop

Darrin often runs into students from his ward and always wants to talk to them. They'll chat until I start pulling him away, reminding him that he has a family and other obligations. But truthfully, I'm really glad that he enjoys his calling and more glad that it requires little from me. Sometimes, I'll admit, when I'm home alone at night, I kind of wish he didn't have to spend so much time away. And sometimes I'll go to the institute and wait for him. I usually end up sleeping on a couch, but let's face it, he's worth the wait.

On Saturday Darrin and I met up with a young lady who is in his ward. Darrin has been meeting with her for a few months. She said to him, "So Bishop, it looks like I'll be seeing your for that disciplinary council tomorrow at 3:00." She was smiling. Darrin said, "Yes. You know, if you're not ready yet, we can wait." She answered him, "No. We've spent lots of time preparing. I'm ready, and I'm actually excited." Then she stopped and said, "You will be there right?" "Of course," he answered. "Good," she said, smiling. "Three o'clock then. I'll bring the cookies!"

I don't know what Darrin said in their meetings that led up to this, but I was really happy that he had helped this young sister view her disciplinary council, not as judgemental or punishing, but as a necessary step for her personal progression--whether within the church, or if she chooses, outside of it. And I was happy that she trusted him and wanted him to be beside her during the council.

I do know that I have spent my life with a man who never judges me. He just loves me--in spite of everything I bring to him--my past hurts, my SSA longings, my aching soul...and even though I'm quite certain that somehow I am broken and tainted, he raises me up to his level and allows me to stay at his side. He goes to my counseling sessions with me and listens when I tell him of my struggles and sadness. He holds me when I cry, lends me strength when I am weak. I often wonder who strengthens him. The answer is obvious--one who is much greater than I.

Someday I will know why I was blessed to have Darrin come to me. I'm hoping it was because I did something right, but I have a feeling he's paying penance for must have been something really bad...

Thursday, November 23, 2006

With apologies to -L-

It's Thanksgiving...and I'm grateful. I realize that I spend most of my blogging time whining about the hand that life has dealt me--frustrated that I'm not perfect and that I can't make everything change to fit my desires. But truthfully, I really am thankful for my life. And so, with apologies to The Great -L-, who once dubbed me Queen of the Queerosphere, these are the things for which I give thanks.

1. Jesus Christ: He is my Savior. Daily, He lifts me, strengthens me, and loves me. Daily, I partake of the atonement as I repent of my sins and allow Him to heal my broken heart. Daily, I partake of His ability to understand my pain and sorrow, as well as my joy in the beauty of life. He is my very best friend. I love Him.

2. Aaron: He's making dinner right now, thus lending credence to the supposition that he's really a gay man. He seems to want to be with me forever, in spite of the fact that I'll never "love" him in the world's romantic definition of the word. He's satisified knowing that we are together, that I love him with a depth of love reserved for no one else, and that through our ability to work together we have built something of beauty and reverence with our marriage. He makes me laugh, feel protected and valued, and I know he loves me. I cannot ask for anything, or anyone, more.

3. My children: I have them all to myself for the next three days. They are so amazing. God knew I'd have a little trouble in the "parent of the year" category, so he hand picked three souls who would help me along, and have no need of a "real Mom". They help me remember important things like birthdays, doctor appointments, and mealtimes. They ask very little, tell me about their lives, play with me, and clean their rooms when asked to do so. They give me plenty of hugs and kisses. They fix their own lunches and get themselves off to school in the mornings. They go on dates with me. I adore them.

4. The Gospel: and more specifically, scriptures. I love learning. I love teaching. I love figuring out how each principle has reference to me, in spite of the non-traditional nature of my feelings. I love being certain that I will continue to learn and grow after this life. And I love the feeling that I'll be able to enjoy the companionship of family and friends who have become so important to me. I'm sometimes afraid to become more than I am--but trust that nothing can happen without my consent and desire, because I'm certain above all things that my Father loves me and wants what is best for me. I have learned this through my adherence to gospel principles and expect to continue to do so throughout my unconventional life.

5. You: If I know you in person, if I've met you online, if you visit my blog and have extended care and friendship to me in any way--I'm grateful for you. You've helped me progress and heal. You've shown me that I'm not alone in ways I had never before considered. And when I was ready to attribute all of this to the imaginations of online contact, some of you came to visit with me in person, or through chats and e-mail, showing me that there is authenticity in many different kinds of friendships. My life is enriched by your involvement. I have learned much about love and friendship specifically--and people in general. There is an interesting dynamic involved in allowing others to see one's weaknesses, thoughts, and dreams, and finding forgiveness and acceptance from them in the parts of self viewed as inadequate or deficient. It's a little amazing--and I'm thankful for it.

Okay, that's enough. Everyone knows how I feel about nature--specifically flowers, sunrises, sunsets, snowflakes, rainbows, and blue skies--so I won't drone on about that. But I have a wonderful life, and I am so grateful for all the blessings I enjoy. Sometimes, I'm even thankful for my challenges--it's rare, but it happens. As for you, -L-, I still want to see your list, because I know you have one...maybe, if I have time later, I'll make it for did say I was queen...

Monday, November 20, 2006

Collectible Compliments

Today I was shopping for flowers for a recital. This takes me quite awhile, partly because I enjoy it, and partly because I always have a difficult time making up my mind when it comes to flowers. I was standing in the store, in front of the refrigerator case when I noticed a man standing next to me. He was a true cowboy from his Stetson hat (which he tipped at me, by the way) to his leather jacket and well-worn boots. He said (and I'm not kidding, he really said it in this way!), "Miss, you kun look in there all day, but ya ain't never gunna find nothin' as purty as you."

I was a little startled, as my mind had been thinking of flowers, and he interrupted me. I suppressed the giggles I wanted to release, smiled at him, and said, "That's a sweet thing to say. Thank you." Then I turned back the the refrigerator case as he strolled away.

I was still standing there about 10 minutes later, when I noticed him again. He smiled, tipped his hat again, and said, "I meant what I said. There ain't nuthin' in that case as purty as you." I smiled again, said thanks again, grabbed the closest bunch of flowers I could find, and checked out.

When I got to the car I sat there and laughed. I find the whole situation too hilarious for words. I wish I'd had a camera. This story begs for a picture.

Saturday, November 18, 2006

Khalil Gibran

But the restless say, "We have heard her shouting among the mountains,

And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and the roaring of lions."

At night the watchmen of the city say, "Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east."

And at noontide the toilers and the wayfarers say, "we have seen her leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset."

In winter say the snow-bound, "She shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills."

And in the summer heat the reapers say, "We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair."

All these things have you said of beauty.

Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied,

And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.

It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth,

But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.

It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,

But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears.

It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw,

But rather a garden forever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.

People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.

But you are life and you are the veil.

Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.

But you are eternity and you are the mirror.
She walks in Beauty
--Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that 's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Thursday, November 16, 2006

It is in talking with others that I usually discover things I've always known, but not wanted to admit. It is here that I'm able to safely explore those discoveries. I'm not certain why it is so difficult for me to explore these things on my own--perhaps I need affirmation from someone else that I'm not crazy or stupid--that there is validity in my thoughts or feelings. Regardless of the reason, it is true that I'm learning more and more about the different ways I was affected by the events of my young life. And I just have to say to those of you who offer positive advice and comments, who send support in e-mail, who offer encouragement, and who listen when I need to talk--I owe you a great debt, and I'm so grateful that you're there.

Following is a discussion I had last night in which I accepted some things I have been avoiding for many years.

Sam: Advise me? My pedophile is continuing to visit and post on my blog. Is it time to start deleting his comments?

One Who Allows Me To Talk About Anything: What do you mean, "time"? Do you want to delete them?

S: There's a part of me that feels like I'm traveling back in time whenever he visits; that I'm being violated again.
But part of me also doesn't want to delete him, because then I feel like I'm alone again, and hiding.
I don't like that.

OWAMTTAA: Hmmm. That's difficult. Why does it make you feel alone to get rid of him?

S: He said: "My studies—academic journals—don’t qualify this statement, especially considering most intergenerational sex, just like adult-adult sex, is in fact consensual, loving, nurturing, and beneficial to both parties"
I feel alone because the first time I had to do everything alone--I felt that I had to do everything alone, and part of me wanted help.
I should have had help!!! I was ELEVEN damned years old!!

OWAMTTAA: Yes, you should have.
And he is wrong.
But you have help, now?

S: And now, I'm not eleven anymore. And I don't need help.

OWAMTTAA: You don't need help?

S: But I still don't want to do this alone.

OWAMTTAA: Do you think this pedophile is going to help you?

S: No. The truth is, I can ask him to go away, and he might.


S: The ugly truth is, I'm still afraid of him.

OWAMTTAA: I would be, too. And you want to see if you can handle his existence?

S: No, not really. I think, somehow, I still want my parents, siblings, SOMEONE to protect me. Which is silly, now that I'm grown up.

OWAMTTAA: No, that's not silly at all.

S: For me--completely out of character. I've never allowed anyone to protect me--ever.
So, this feels pretty strange and uncomfortable.

OWAMTTAA: It's good to admit to, though.

S: Maybe, but a little pointless, probably.

OWAMTTAA: How so? You want someone to come in and protect you. Because someone should have.

S: That's true--but now I'm confused and I don't know what to do next.

OWAMTTAA: Want me to come in and tell him to back off?

S: I think I want everyone I know, their immediate families, extended families, friends, and enemies to do that.

OWAMTTAA: Okay. And they should. It is a little different, because you're an adult now.

S: Okay, subject change?

OWAMTTAA: If you like.

S: I think so. I feel like I just had a temper tantrum.

OWAMTTAA: It's well-deserved, though. I think you should have a succession of temper tantrums. Be as shrieky and unreasonable as you can. It is, I think, sometimes, the problem with being smart. We don't always allow ourselves to have human emotions, because the vast bulk of human emotions aren't fair or don't make sense.

S: Well, it's true, I don't allow myself to feel lots of things, because they don't make sense. I'll have to think about that.

OWAMTTAA: I once had to force myself to cry and yell at God.
Because I wanted to, and because it was killing me to tell myself, "It won't do any good, I'll just be wrong to do it."
It was probably the most honest I had been with him up to that point.

S: But, when I do that kind of thing, I feel worse when I'm done.

OWAMTTAA: Interesting. I felt better. Because I really was angry. And I hadn't been able to express it. And...I didn't feel like God hated me for it. Life went on.

S: I think I feel worse, because for me, about the worst thing I can do is lose control--and that feels like a loss of control.

OWAMTTAA: Control of what, though?

S: Obviously I have control issues--the what seems to be unimportant. Hence--eating disorder.
and compulsive exercise.

OWAMTTAA: I think we're almost diametrically opposed there.
I tend to be very fatalistic.

S: I don't think it's a natural tendency. I hate to keep relating everything to this, but I think it stems from that time when I had, or seemed to have, no control. I can't let that happen again--the loss of control, or allowing another to control me.

OWAMTTAA: Why would you be sorry to go back to that?
It was a hugely important moment in your development.

S: I suppose because there's so much more to me than those months. And I don't want them to define who I am.

OWAMTTAA: They don't. But, it still was important. And needs to be addressed, even still.

S: I know.

OWAMTTAA: I know. I don't know why I told you. Except that you never need to apologize to me for bringing it up. I mean, I talk about gayness all the time , it feels like. And that's a miniscule part of me.

S: Actually, I hope you talk about whatever you want--if that happens to be gayness, then that's fine.
And you're right.

OWAMTTAA: Well, I talk about gayness because for 23 years I couldn't talk about it to anyone.
There's a backlog. And it's hugely important in my development.

S: That would be my reasoning for talking about abuse, I suppose. Okay--I still don't know what I want to do, but at least I got to scream about it. I think that's good.

OWAMTTAA: :) See? And I still love you.= :)

S: Thanks. Really.

OWAMTTAA: Sorry, though, that I didn't have anything useful to say about what to do.

S: I'm not sure there is anything useful to say.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

I am so in love with Mother Theresa...

"Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin."

"When a poor person dies of hunger, it has not happened because God did not take care of him or her. It has happened because neither you nor I wanted to give that person what he or she needed."

"Everybody today seems to be in such a terrible rush, anxious for greater developments and greater riches and so on, so that children have very little time for their parents. Parents have very little time for each other, and in the home begins the disruption of peace of the world."

"There is a terrible hunger for love. We all experience that in our lives - the pain, the loneliness. We must have the courage to recognize it. The poor you may have right in your own family. Find them. Love them."

"Give yourself fully to God. He will use you to accomplish great things on the condition that you believe much more in His love than in your own weakness."

"A sacrifice to be real must cost, must hurt, must empty ourselves. The fruit of silence is prayer, the fruit of prayer is faith, the fruit of faith is love, the fruit of love is service, the fruit of service is peace."

"One evening we went out and we picked up four people from the street. And one of them was in a most terrible condition. So I did for her all that my love can do. I put her in bed, and there was such a beautiful smile on her face. She took hold of my hand, as she said one word only: 'Thank you' - and she died. I could not help but examine my conscience before her. And I asked: 'What would I say if I were in her place?' And my answer was very simple. I would have tried to draw a little attention to myself. I would have said: 'I am hungry, I am dying, I am cold, I am in pain,' or something. But she gave me much more - she gave me her grateful love. And she died with a smile on her face."

"God will never forget us and there is something you and I can always do. We can keep the joy of loving Jesus in our hearts, and share that joy with all we come in contact with."

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Everyone should have a Therapist like mine

I met with Therapist today. He asked for a report of the past week and a half. I told him I'd done well until last Saturday, and explained the difficulties I'd encountered when confronted by my uninvited blog guest.

Before I go further I just have to reiterate how in love I am with Therapist...truly...head-over-heels...

I was worried that he, as my last counselor had done, would get all freaky about my relapsing into feelings and desires from the past, and that he'd start threatening all sorts of dire consequences because I was unstable. He didn't. He said there was a reason all that happened, and we talked about those reasons. Basically, my response was elicited because I was connecting the visits from my pedophile cousin with my blog visitor. So we talked about what that represented: My blog is my place of healing. It belongs to me and the contents are highly personal. There is vulnerability in sharing those personal contents in a public forum, but thus far the response has been largely affirming and supportive, and has come from non-threatening individuals. To have someone come, who represents fear in my eyes, constitutes trespassing, and causes me to feel unsafe again.

Therapist was unsurprised at my reaction. He was intrigued, however, that I had worked through it and was now back in control. He asked how that happened. We threw a number of ideas around and this is what we came up with:
1. Somehow, I made a shadowbox parallel between my person being trespassed upon and violated as a child, and my blog being intruded on and exploited currently.
2. In both instances I felt helpless, frustrated, weak, and vulnerable.
3. In the first instance, I believed there was no help or support for me--anywhere. In the second instance, help and support came almost immediately, and from many different sources. I had in-person people, who expressed love and encouraged me to continue fighting to continue my progress. I had online friends who allowed me to talk, or who acted in protective ways. In both instances, this time I was not alone, and I worked through the emotional stress with help--thus avoiding my need to resort to negative coping devices.
4. I came to the ultimate realization that I don't have anything to fear. I'm not alone, it is not my visitor's intention to harm my physically, I can conquer that which is hurting me.

There were some random things that were really helpful. In no particular order:
1. I didn't call Therapist. I wanted to. But even more, I wanted to make it through this on my own. And I did. There is strength in that, and triumph. And control (this will be a continuous theme...).
2. I set boundaries and ground rules, i.e.: This is my blog. No more anonymous comments are accepted. You must identify yourself if you wish to comment. There are certain people/subjects that are not allowed to be disrespected on my blog. Your presence must not interfere with my healing, which is the main reason for this blog's existence. Being able to set those boundaries/rules helps me feel more in control of myself and my life.
3. The person I decided to eliminate from my life (in my stupid destructive cycle habit) ignored my attempts to do so, and welcomed me back when I became sane once again. He said he recognized what was happening, which makes him smarter than I am, because I was clueless. But amazingly, in this instance, because he did not allow me to push him away, I learned that there really are some people who will still love me when I'm stupid, and will continue to support me until I return to my senses. Amazing--there really are people willing to do this! Who knew???!!!!??? Result of learning this? Well, obviously, I'm going to have to re-evaluate my opinion of human nature, as it seems to be flawed.
4. I can allow myself to feel protection and love from others when I'm vulnerable. I'm not alone--I actually never was alone. There is strength in this. And control... :).
5. Different friends fill different needs. Based on my neediness, I need lots of them. It was so amazing this week!! I have the friend who will listen to anything, regardless of how ugly, bizarre, or scary it is. And he never tells me to stop--which is so good, because sometimes I really need to get things out. I have the friend who makes me feel happy just because he's in my life, the friends who brings peace and joy, the ones who hold me when I'm afraid, the ones who feel protective. Then there are the friends who make me laugh, the ones who stay on the sidelines and cheer me on, the ones who don't say much , but also just don't go away. It's a wonderful phenomenon--very empowering--and makes me feel more in control of my life, and myself.

So the parallels between my past and present experiences were drawn, and this time I made it through the feelings by using all the positive devices at my disposal. Other differences were that I talked about what was happening, I addressed the person by whom I felt threatened, I did all that I could myself, but then took the rest to those I trusted to help me, and I posted my boundaries. This time, I took control, and did not allow myself to be acted upon.

Therapist is very proud of me--and he is so impressed at the calibre of people who visit me. He said, "Sam, I've never had a more unusual client--I'll admit that. You definitely have unique ways of dealing with your issues, and amazing people who help you. I wish all my clients had that."

We talked more about moving toward my last assignment, which is to learn how to resolve my relationship with my cousin is such a way that God would approve. Then I received a progress evaluation:
1. I've moved closer to allowing myself to let go of my past experiences--I'm losing the fear that accompanies that step.
2. I've acknowledged that I had no culpability in the acts that were forced on me, I was not a participant, and as a child, those things happened through no fault of my own. I do not have to accept responsibility for those acts.
3. I'm accepting the true nature and feelings of my cousin for me. I've moved beyond the mourning.
4. I continue to accept my cousin's right to seek forgiveness through Christ's atonement, and I, personally, forgive him. If he never takes the steps necessary to make things right in his life, it is not my problem.
5. I'm learning to take more control in how I view those events, and even though I still wish they had not happened, I will not allow my past to determine my present.
6. I'm accepting that God did not take the trial of abuse from me--but he did protect me. Given the facts I've found about this type of abuse/crime, I am blessed that my life was spared. And I have to acknowledge that much in my life is a gift from God. I'm grateful for his protection and

An interesting side-note: I didn't tell my parents about all this turmoil. Perhaps there is a parallel there, I'm not sure. And I'm not ready to delve too deeply into this fact right now. I'll address it when I'm ready, but not today.

Therapist believes that as my healing trend continues, I'll be able to eat normally once again and not be bothered by the eating disorder which is the unfortunate by-product of all this. I'm trusting that he's right--he has been so far, which is, I suppose, why I'm so in love with him.

Monday, November 13, 2006


Just a reminder: Personal blogs are a good place to say unpleasant things. No doubt, this will be unpleasant.

It seems that every time I get close to handing things off to God, something happens that reminds me there are still things I have to work on--I'm not finished doing my part yet, whatever that means. It's frustrating. And I know I keep saying it, but I'm tired...and that part's getting worse.

My fatigue used to be emotional. I've worked really intensely since January to deal with past problems and to come to terms with who I am. Instead of finding peace and answers I seem to be encountering more stress and obstacles. The feeling of being tired has become physical, as well. I find myself unable to run as far or as often, and it's not unusual for me to doze off when I should be working. I'm just tired. And I want to be done.

A number of things cropped up with the appearance of an unexpected visitor to my blog. Things that surprised and disappointed me. Ugly things I thought were gone for good. Things I believed I'd purged from my life that returned to remind me that they never really go away, they just hide for a little while. I wouldn't admit, at first, what was happening. I was really upset/confused/frustrated/sad that I was experiencing those things again--for no good reason. But I have to look at what has happened, or it will happen again. I'm sure of this.

1. I was frightened of an unknown. No doubt this will happen again, but I'd like to not be afraid of people who don't know me, have no access to me, and no way to find me. Mostly, I'd just like to not be afraid of people.
2. I stopped cutting and other forms of self-harm by the time I was in my twenties. I've had a problem with scratching that hasn't gone away, but is largely under control. All the desires for self-harm came to the surface last week. I'm actually pretty proud of myself because I never gave in--even when I desperately wanted to. But the fact that I wanted to was horrifying. I tried to talk about this a number of times with friends, but became so overwhelmed with guilt and disgust, that I just couldn't. I hate the fact that I'm still hampered by these feelings. And truthfully, talking about it with anyone really makes me hate who I am. This is not an aspect of myself I want to accept--I just want it to go away.
3. I relapsed into my friend alienation cycle, in which I focus on one person and do all that I can to make them go away--rules of the game:
a) Say odd frightening things that make the friend uncomfortable.
b) Create tension--don't explain or dispel it.
c) Avoid the friend.
d) Be bitchy and nasty.
e) Ignore friend indefinitely.
I realized what I was doing before I got to the last step. Then I felt like crap, because the person I chose was someone I really love, who was kind of going through a bit of crisis time, himself. Fortunately for me, he's a better person than I am, and he stuck around in spite of me. But I really thought I was done with this, and I didn't even recognize what I was doing until I got to the bitchy nasty part. There's something so wrong about that--what kind of person alienates friends when she needs them the most?
4. I got really sad. I hate despair. I woke up with it--tried to sleep with it--didn't cope well with it. The sadness frustrates me. I've had people say things indicating that somehow having abuse in my life has made me a better person. I don't believe it. I'd like to believe that I'd still have all my positive traits regardless of whether or not someone used me for his selfish sexual gratification. I'd like to believe that any compassion, empathy, love or courage I may have would be present without experiencing manipulation and violence. I'm tremendously sad that the child inside of me still aches, and I don't know what to do for her.

Good things that happened this week, in connection with the above:
1. A few friends expressed feelings of protectiveness toward me. This, of course, is a little weird when I consider that I really do feel I can take care of myself. However, I realized later that this was a time when I actually did feel a need to be protected--or maybe cared for? supported? It's an interesting consideration for me, because I am, and have always been extremely independent. Admitting that I need those things is difficult for me. But when those "things" came from my friends, I felt better, more in control, less alone. So maybe I can accept them? Maybe I don't always have to protect myself? And even though it was all figurative, I was amazed at how much stronger I felt, knowing I wasn't fighting alone. I need to think about this.

2. Things got better. I wasn't sure they would. Saturday was a day of relief. Yesterday was a day of sleeping--at the most inopportune moments--but still, sleep. Tabitha gave me her shoulder during church, and laughed when I really did fall doze off. Later I fell asleep on a couch in the lobby, then I dozed while chatting online--bad idea. Today everything seems to have leveled off, which is good all-around. Tomorrow I get to see Therapist. I have lots of questions for him.

3. I learned a lot about myself. I didn't like most of what I learned, but that's okay. And I made it through one more "down" time. Those seem to be happening with less frequency, so I'm looking at the big picture, and pronouncing progress. It's hard because the intensity of emotion within each "down" seems to be increasing, but the duration is decreasing. I don't understand it, but there it is.

Analysis is finished. No conclusions drawn. I'll leave that for another day.

Saturday, November 11, 2006

DJ is so amazing...

DJ has a friend, Mike (who is also one of my seminary students). Mike habitually uses the term "gay" in a derogatorily descriptive way.

Last month, DJ heard it one time too many. He turned to Mike and said, "I don't like it when you say that." Mike wanted to know why. DJ said, "I know several guys who are gay. They're very good friends of our family, and some of the coolest people I know."

It's been one month. Mike hasn't used the term once in that time. That says a lot about him. It also speaks volumes about the impact one person can have.

DJ is pretty cool, himself.

Thursday, November 09, 2006


Okay, I have two options. I can continue my blog vacation, in which case I'm going to have to call Therapist and talk to him before my next appointment, or I can use the tool that's been helping me through the last few months and act like a responsible person. I have to do something because not doing anything isn't working.

My resident pedophile continues to lurk here, but doesn't speak, which is a step in the right direction. The purpose of my blog is to help me reason through my past, present and future, not a forum for him to air his concerns about human nature. Should he feel the need to do that, blogspots are free--he can build his own. A wonderful friend sent me an e-mail today and said the following: "We are all compassionate people 'round these parts. You most certainly are. I'm imagining that parts of this guy's story make many of us want to try to be open-minded and understanding and Christlike in not rejecting him from a community that might benefit him ultimately. But when it comes to the contamination of sacred space, even Christ himself was not opposed to physically throwing out intruders... It's your space. It's your emotional, spiritual home. A place of true convalescence of an injured soul." Normally, I don't really care who visits. Unfortunately, having this person continue to visit is causing me some emotional distress--which sort of ticks me off. Oh, and by the way, Wonderful Friend--thanks--and I love you.

Reasons why I either have to blog or call Therapist:
1. I can't sleep. When I do, my dreams are nauseating. I wake up sweating and afraid.
2. I can't eat. There's no more room inside me for food. And I don't want it.
3. My guts feel twisted in knots. I don't know what to do about that.
4. The aching sadness that left me months ago is back--more strongly than ever.
5. I'm hurting. Most of all it just hurts.

Today was the worst day yet. Everything multiplied to the point that it seemed overwhelming. I tried to sleep briefly at noon, and had a dream that I was cutting once again. The relief was amazing, the guilt enormous. I woke, and realized that the compulsion was still vividly alive. I thought I might go online and talk to someone--found a friend, and decided the last thing I wanted to do was contaminate his day with my deficits.

I went for a run. I realized after the third mile that my moodiness had been taken out on my friend, and he didn't deserve it. Somewhere in the fifth mile something gave inside and I was able to find some peace.

I'm going to work through this. I'm not going to call Therapist. I'm going to make it back to the place I was before I got interrupted.

But just in case you talk to me in the meantime, and I'm a little crabby...please forgive me. This is really, really difficult...and I'm so tired.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Last weekend

I hate to be fussed over. Going to visit Darrin's family always means lots of "fuss". I'll be interested to find out if, in 20 years, they still tell me I'm "so beautiful!!" as they kiss me on each cheek. Right now Darrin and I are still golden. Everyone in his family loves us and our children. I believe that's because we live far away from everyone and no one really knows anything about us. And truthfully, next to Darrin's sisters (one of whom shaves her face) who are both on the large side and about 10 years older than I--well, I probably do look beautiful, but that's not saying a whole lot.

Darrin's family thrives on conflict. I've learned to say things that distract in volatile situations. For instance: Darrin's aunt and sister (or sister and mother, or aunt and uncle--pretty much any relative can be inserted here) are arguing about which car Darrin and I would like to ride in, or what grades our children should be in, or whether or not Darrin has lost more hair since we last visited. I say, "Wow! You have black squirrels here!! I've never seen black squirrels before (this is a lie, of course)!!" I quickly switch to, "Did you redo your kitchen since I was here last? I don't remember the countertops being marble..." or, in an emergency, "Umm...I really need to use the bathroom!" and I run away and lock myself in for about 15 minutes. Darrin becomes dazed and confused, and floats around trying to please everyone. I pray for the days to pass quickly.

This visit there was fuss. I had to have my hair done professionally (I absolutely refused fake nails, though, nor would I allow the salon to do my make-up). I had to wear a formal (which I insisted on buying and bringing myself. Darrin's sister was deathly afraid I'd not have the fashion sense to find something appropriate--her attire was SO outclassed by mine--I won! Big fat hairy deal...). Darrin and I made arrangements to stay with a family member. Darrin's aunt made us reservations at an extremely nice hotel--her reasoning: we were there without our children...we would need privacy...this would be a wonderful time for uninterrupted intimacy... ummm...yeah...not going to go there...We ended up keeping the hotel room, because a member of Darrin's family paid for it, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise. There were certainly times when the hotel became a much-needed haven.

All in all, everything turned out to be lots of fun. Darrin's 20-year-old nephew decided to adopt me. He was at my side through most of the festivities and at every meal. And since he's adorable, I can't complain about that. Darrin's 21-year-old nephew was at my other side most of the time, as well. I danced with them at the wedding--as well as with many other men, including my husband and father-in-law, and a couple of women, as well. Bathrooms seem to be an interesting place for me to meet people. One very drunk woman and I were alone in the ladies room. She exclaimed over the color of my dress, told me I had "such a cute little figure", and asked if I'd like to come home with her. I thanked her nicely, said perhaps another time, and walked her to the door. She leaned close to me and said, "You can come to my home anytime, and stay as long as you'd like." The interesting thing is that I had a very similar conversation with a man who had also been celebrating heavily. He was in his late 20's, clean cut, and very nice looking. When I told Darrin's nephew about the bathroom proposition, he laughed and said, "I'll bet that's the first time you've had that happen, isn't it??!!!??" I felt it would be wise not to answer that.

I saw the propsition man the next day at Darrin's aunt's home. He remembered our interactions and was a little embarrassed. I gave him the Italian salute on each cheek, and said, "No harm done. Besides, I don't have your address or phone number--not much chance that I'd be taking you up on your offer." I didn't add that I had no idea what his name was, either. As he was saying good-bye to everyone, about an hour later, he slipped me a piece of paper. I now have all the information he had forgotten to supply earlier...

Darrin's family was on their best behavior. There were no major wars, and I was able to remain neutral in every situation. It was an interesting, sometimes fun, often hilarious visit. I'm glad to be home.
The sunrise was beautiful this morning. The nearly full moon glowed above light pink clouds in the west while the sun burned the clouds on the eastern horizon a brilliant orange. I sat in the parking lot of the church and watched the different colors chase each other across the sky, and for the first time since I started teaching seminary this year, I didn't want to go in. I wanted to stay outside, watching the sky. I felt like a hypocrite--teaching beautiful young men and women about a gospel I'm too afraid to live.

Sometimes, selfishly, I feel that the gorgeously colored skies at dusk and dawn belong to me. And the moment before the sky turns night-black, when it's dark blue and still glowing--that moment is mine alone. Those are the times when I'm glad to be alive, when all seems right with the world. Sometimes, when I'm watching, I feel loved. This is God's gift to me, reminding me that He's there, that He thinks of me, that He knows who I am.

I know, that's just silly. A sunrise is nothing more than a natural phenomenon. It certainly isn't my property -- just a pretty trick of atmospheric science...

I remember a time when life seemed to be such a chore--each moment was painful, every second brought sadness. I remember a time when I wondered why I had been given a life, when I wished that I had not accepted one. The beauties of nature sustained me in some odd way. I would walk in the mountains behind my home, wondering at the height of the trees, the smells of the pine, the sounds of birdsong and rustling leaves. I have countless old photos, taken with a very cheap camera--all of sunsets and sunrises I was trying to capture and save for the days when I desperately needed beauty in my life. There have been moments when I have sat in long grass, surrounded by wildflowers and butterflies. These moments have brought me peace.

Perhaps I am an egoist, but I still feel that these moments were given to me by a Heavenly Father who loves me. He knew when I was hurting. I believe it made Him a little sad to see His daughter in need of comfort. And so, He comforted me. With the beauties of His earth, His Spirit soothed my own, and I continued to live.

I know, it's not true. But I choose to believe it anyway.

Saturday, November 04, 2006

Counseling Session...unknown number...will it ever end?

I was so ready to talk to Therapist on Wednesday. Usually when Darrin comes with me, he and Therapist spend the majority of time talking about things, and very little time is spent on me. I don't mind this because Darrin has very few people he can talk to, and I understand that I really do make his life stressful.

This time, however, he seemed to understand that I was really in need of some counsel of my own (it could have been the lack of eating thing--that always seems to be an indicator that I'm freaking out). Darrin sat quietly and let me talk. I told Therapist about the stress I felt when I presented my topic on same-gender attraction at the stake leadership meeting. Therapist makes me laugh--he was so happy! He said the fact that I would allow that many people to know about my abuse was a huge step (especially since two months ago I told him I wouldn't tell anyone else because I didn't want anyone to know). He says that means I'm becoming more comfortable with myself and my past, and that's a good thing. He was also ecstatic that the SGA issue was being introduced with love in our stake--and mentioned the irony that I was presenting, but no one knew I was speaking from experience. That's okay--it's not time for anyone to know yet.

We talked about my tentative plans to spend Thanksgiving with my extended family--which would mean contact with my cousin for the first time in 16 years. Therapist said we could work on preparing for that meeting, but in his mind it was a little soon. Then he added, "But you keep surprising me. You're about as gutsy as they come." Good. It's about time I showed a little courage. I've been afraid for most all my life.

Therapist asked how my research into pedophiles went. I began to tell him all that I found. His eyes got large. He asked, "How many days did you spend on this?" Many, that's for sure. At least a week. He said he hadn't intended that I do such an in-depth research project. I asked him if he remembered who I was...he laughed. I'm not capable of just "looking". I have to learn everything I can. I explained how what I learned had been so upsetting. He mentioned I'd lost more weight. Yes, it's difficult to eat when physically ill. He asked if I'd been able to make the parallels between my treatment, and that of a victim of a pedophile. I had. We talked about how most victims of pedophilia who experience the extent of abuse that I have, are usually killed. Somedays I view those who have died as very lucky. Therapist says I need to view my life as a blessing. It's not easy to do that.

I told Therapist how I had been talking to a number of friends about the abuse--more than I ever have before. I told him how one friend had helped me understand that my cousin didn't love me (thanks TB), and while that was terribly hurtful, it was also liberating in some way. I told him how another friend reiterated that I could make it through this, that he loved me, that the atonement could help me heal (thanks AtP). I told him how others were just supportive and wonderful, letting me talk, helping me feel supported and loved (thanks AO, Tito, -L-, and others who have emailed and chatted with me). My therapist told me that he believes that I have had people placed in my life to help me every step of the way as I work through all that has happened. I know he's right--so to everyone in my life, online and off--I just have to thank you, and tell you I love you for any help I may have received from you, intentional or not.

My assignments:
1. Eat daily.
2. Now that I have figured out how to emotionally separate myself from my cousin, I have to figure out how to accept him back--in a way that God would condone. I said, "I don't know how to do that." Therapist said, "I suggest you ask the Lord. I think He'll have some good ideas for you."

I'm working on the first thing. Some days I can, some days I can't. I haven't begun the second. I'm a little overwhelmed by it--no, actually, I'm a lot overwhelmed by it, stressed out by it--I hate it. It's been a rough week. I don't know what to do. I don't want to ask the Lord. I don't want to do my assigment. I'm frustrated and sad. I hope I can find the courage to try. I'm not terrifically courageous or strong right now. Ugh--I hate this.

Thursday, November 02, 2006


I love airports. I don't know why. They make me feel different. Perhaps it's knowing that there are thousands of people sitting in terminals and concourses who will soon be sitting in the air, flying to thousands of different's sort of amazing. Or maybe it's the lure of escalators, treadways, and elevators (although I skip elevators whenever possible). I'm not sure. One thing I know, however, is that I seem to lose a bit of propriety when I'm in an airport, and my resident irreverence and warped sense of humor gain strength the longer I have to wait for a flight. This began in my college days when the Salt Lake airport had a huge stone map of the world on the floor. I have no idea if it's still there (I haven't been to that airport for years), but we (my home evening brothers, roommates, and I) would sometimes spend a Saturday there playing Risk with the very large gameboard. We would play for hours, quietly, until an argument over Mongolia or Afghanistan broke out and we were asked by uniformed officials politely, but firmly, to leave. Ah, memories...

Darrin and I were looking at the equipment on the runway today--all those ladders--how fun!! And I really want to drive one of those luggage tractor things. I also want to ride in the baggage wagon. There were some yellow equipment things that looked like torpedo launchers--dying to play with that one. Also, there were some awesome red lines dividing a yellow semi-circle into six triangular sections, perfect for a game similar to foursquare--or sixtriangle, as the case may be. Anyway, fun at the airport, and when I got bored I called AtP--which didn't turn out to be much fun because he was still asleep. Bummer.

Things to do on the airplane:
1. Fold the barf bag into origami shapes.
2. Decide the sexual orientation of fellow passengers as they board. Astound your spouse with your knowledge, and if he questions your gaydar, ask the passengers point blank whether or not they're gay--my score today 98% correct.
3. Laugh at people boarding the plane who have food on the corners of their mouths. This is not rude because there is such a device as the rarely used napkin. People should use them.
4. Rate the quality and appearance of the many yamicas surrounding you.
5. Try to find scratch paper on which to make a list of airport things to do. Give up and unfold an origami barf bag to write on.
6. Give yourself a pedicure in the tiny bathroom.
7. Play Red Light/Green Light with the bathroom occupation light indicator.
8. Notice people who look like Elvis impersonators. Ask them if they would like to sing everyone a song.
9. Ask the flight attendant if she will share her bag of Whoppers.
10. When the flight attendant walks by, say, "Hi! How are ya!" several times. She'll like this since she says it to every passenger who boards the plane.
11. Ask for more barf bags. Display origami on fold-down table.
12. Laugh at large, bald guy wearing Princess Leia headphones because he looks funny.
13. Ask red-haired guy if he cut out and ironed on the 3-D birds on his t-shirt all by himself.
14. Tell Darrin that he does not qualify as a passenger travelling with a small child (actions are not indicative of age).
15. Decide how many women are wearing fake tan on their legs--don't keep looking at their legs.
16. Play the ABC game with the seat designations--scream in frustration when you get to F because there are no more seats letters.
17. Read the seat display words: Awindow, Bcenter, Caisle, Daisle, Ecenter, Fwindow. Keep reading the words out loud until Darrin asks you to stop.
18. Ask the person with bad breath to go to the bathroom and brush his teeth. This will extend the Red Light/Green Light game.
19. Pretend you know ASL and stand up and sign during the scary "in case we crash" lecture given at the beginning of the flight.
20. Put complimentary peanuts up your nose. See how far they fly when you sneeze. Involve fellow passengers in a contest to see who can achieve the greatest distance.
21. Sleep.

Darrin loves to travel alone with me. I know this because he kept saying, "I'm so glad our kids aren't here right now." Not sure why he was doing the eye-rolling thing, though. Maybe he was airsick. He never really complains, though. What a trooper.


Today I saw my therapist. We discussed many things which I will write about when I have more time. But one thing he said stays with me. He told me I had been very blessed with the father and husband I've been given. He also acknowledged that the healing I've experienced is largely due to the other men in my life. So, if you're male, and you're in my life even peripherally, I thank you, and I love you.

I really am blessed.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

"When we are tired, we are attacked by ideas we conquered long ago." -- Friedrich Nietzsche

I'm really, really tired.
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