There’s a song called “Say Something” and in it Chris Stapleton sings a line that says “…Everyone knows all about my transgressions..”. There isn’t much that isn’t known about me publicly.

I used to dress as a girl when I was kid and my family would call me a pervert. Nobody really knew about that but them. Now you. I was so small and the women so big I could only fit into undergarments and wear them under my clothes so I wouldn’t be caught. But boy when I was…I was everything but normal. I was all types of “sissy” and “pervert” and “fag” and “boy, if you only had tits on your back”. I wasn’t even in 1st grade when that started.

Both of my birth parents gave me up. One of them, my father (if that’s what I can even call him), I have never met before, ever. My birth mother went on to have 3 more wonderful children, raising them in a wonderful home. While their plights consisted of no ice cream for the night I was listening to my aunts and uncles smoke crank from a lightbulb while I tried to stay small in a rat infested farm house in the middle of the night. Or go to bed terrified in my own bed wondering if the bad monster (my Mom’s abusive ex-boyfriend) was going to find us and hurt us again.

Nobody really knew about that either.

I’ve spent the last decade sorting through thousands of experiences that are much, much worse than that. Experiences that led to some seriously skewed adulthood thinking. But I’ve spent thousands of hours in seriously intensive therapy. I have taken responsibility for my actions and even swallowed the bitter pill that I have to take responsibility for the results of my childhood as well.

But the stones that are thrown don’t hurt anymore. In fact, those that throw stones are living in their own kind of pathetic existence where its not even me they hate…they simply see themselves in the mirror and it enrages them. I’m not gonna shatter anymore for them. They will have to reconcile their own deeds, their own misery, their own mistakes. I’m not going to hurt anymore, not for them.

I got people who love me. I mean really love me and know every single detail of my life. Not just 1 or 2 either, bunches. I’m fortunate. Highly blessed actually. I know how to love now. In fact, I know how to love enough that I can even love those who throw stones. I forgive. When and if they ever want to accept it, it’s already been given. Theirs for the taking. In the mean time I’m living my best life.

I’m loved.
I’m happy.
Ready for life
I’m a lover
A make-it-happen-because-that’s-what-I-do BOSS
Hater’s are beneath me
and I won’t wallow in someone’s pig sty or garbage pit, that’s for them, such things are…beneath me.

With Love