Goodbye, Dad and Happy Father’s Day

My dad passed away on June the 8th. Not too long ago. The day after my 45th birthday. It was totally unexpected but then I think death in general is quite unexpected even for those expecting it. He had fell and hit his head a couple days prior to ending up being flown by helicopter to a larger more equipped facility to have brain surgery to remove a hematoma from his brain. He was never the same after the surgery and never regained any functionality at all. He was a stubborn man and of course refused to go to the hospital until he was so bad that my sister had to call 911 to come pick him up by ambulance. The day he originally fell he had hit his head so hard that he had lost consciousness. That day I practically begged him to go to the hospital but like I said he refused. I told him that he could die in his sleep if he had a bleed on his brain from the fall but he told me that that wouldn’t be a bad way to go. Little did I know he was going to get his wish.

My dad had been sick for years. He had just gotten a fistula put in his arm this year because he was eventually going to have to have dialysis done because his kidneys were failing. For a long time he had refused to even do that but had given in when another nurse from his insurance company had told him he could live another ten years doing dialysis. Forget that his nurse daughter had already told him that but then he never listened to me anyway. So, he got the fistula put in but hadn’t had to start it yet. Then he had just recently had both eyes done to remove cataracts and was actually able to drive again. I’m not saying he didn’t drive anyway because he did even with probably being legally blind? You see my point with the stubbornness here?

I do miss my dad terribly. I didn’t think that I would. I know that probably sounds cold but we were never that close and we had a lot of bad blood between us over the course of my childhood and life in general. But he was my dad no matter. I just wasn’t expecting to actually miss him, I guess? I had a breakdown the other day and drank way too much and just cried and cried. I hadn’t been that emotional about it but I guess it just hit me a couple days before Father’s Day? It just knocked the wind out of my sails that day and I had a good cry which I think I really needed?

If you are a follower of my blog then I don’t have to tell you that mine and his relationship was never a good one. He wasn’t the best dad but he wasn’t the worst either. I mean, I have a lot to be thankful for. He did abuse me physically, mentally, emotionally but never sexually and I’m very thankful for that. I have always said that you can look around and find people who have had a lot worse life than you have. He was an excellent provider and a really hard worker most of his life. I can remember him working in the cotton mill and pulling seven 12 hour shifts. He always made sure that me and my sister were provided for. He was a good dad for the most part. He made some bad choices in his life of course we all do. I loved him very much even though we were not an affectionate family, ever. He never told us growing up that he loved us or hugged us or anything like that. I guess that’s why me and my sister are not in general, affectionate people ourselves? We weren’t raised that way. My dad never thought you were sick enough to go to a doctor. And God forbid you cry. Crying was not allowed. I think of Tom Hanks character in A League of Their Own, when he says, “There’s no crying in baseball!”. Well, with my dad there was no crying in life. I remember when I was about 13 years old or so and I had went to a birthday party at the skating rink and I had fell and my foot ended up beside my ear. I’m pretty sure now that I’m a nurse that I tore the meniscus in my knee but I never went to a doctor. Even though my knee swelled to the point that it was the size of a cantaloupe and that was when I was a girl so that was pretty damn big. I showed my dad my knee and told him how bad it hurt but just like everything else he just looked at me and said, “It’ll be alright. Toughen up. You’re not a baby. It’ll heal before you get married.” And that was that. That was the way it was with everything with him. We learned to be tough or die. I still to this day don’t feel pain like other people. I have an incredibly high pain tolerance which my doctor says is to the point of being scary. She told me that if I thought I was hurting I may need to go to the emergency room because something was probably really bad wrong with me. Of course I don’t listen to that either, just like my dad. My sister is the same way. When she was 16 she fell out in the floor and was bleeding profusely and hadn’t said a word. She had had a miscarriage and almost died. She laughed all the way through delivering her daughter. Yes, she laughed through labor. Guess neither of us know how to show pain? Thanks to dad. His dad was probably the same with him though? My granddad was a very mean man and I’m sure my dads childhood was not any easier. He told me some things about his childhood that really messed me up mentally so I won’t even share those on here because believe me, I’m doing you a favor.

I miss my dad everyday and I don’t know if that will ever change. I did have the chance to tell him things that I had held onto for a long time. I got to tell him that I forgave him for everything and all the bad choices he had made because let’s face it folks, we all make bad choices in life. I got to tell him that I loved him, no matter what. I got to tell him that I never understood why he was so hard on me and not my sister but then in the same breath tell him that I was glad he was hard on me because I wouldn’t be where I am today if he hadn’t of been. I see the alternative in my sister. Believe me I’m better off. I knew however that my dad was going to die. I knew he was gone when he came out of surgery. I just knew by the look in his eyes. He was no longer in there. It was his time to go. I except that, no matter how hard it is.

I know my dad didn’t approve of me being gay but it upsets me that he never met the love of my life. He’ll never get to see me get married. He’ll not see me get my nurse practitioner license. He’ll never get to see a lot of things in my life. That part upsets me. Is he better off? Probably better off than he was, yes. Will I miss him always? Yes. Did I expect it all to end this way? No.

So what do I have to thank my dad for? Well, my awkward, morbid, dark, verging on psychotic sense of humor, I owe to him. My never say quit attitude, I owe to him. A strong work ethic, I owe to him. Never giving up on a relationship, I owe to him. My toughness, I owe to him. My strange views on religion and God, I owe to him. My stubbornness, I owe to him. My intelligence and love of learning, I owe to him. My random useless facts that I throw out there in the middle of a conversation, I owe to him. My nerdiness, I owe to him. I owe a lot of my personality and who I am to him. I have dyslexia, just like he did. I’m as blunt as they come sometimes, just like him. But there were so many things that I admired about my dad. He never walked away from his kids. He worked all the time. He always provided for us and he never got a dime in child support from my mom. He may not have told us he loved us all the time but he proved he did everyday. He was all in all not such a bad man. I owe my love of cars, especially classic cars to him. He was my dad and he will always be a part of me. He will always live on in my heart. His memory will be honored every time I speak of him. My dad wasn’t perfect but he was my dad and that’s all that matters. We take what life gives us and it makes us into the people we are. I wouldn’t be who I am without him and for that I thank him. He will be missed but he will never be forgotten.

 

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It’s Never Been “Just Sex”

My inspiration, my muse and I were talking today and I was like, Damn! I got an idea for a post! She inspires me like that. Yeah, she’s pretty damn awesome. We were talking about how neither of us have ever been the type to fall into bed with somebody. It’s never been “just sex” for me. I know this because I tried to do the “just sex” thing when I was in high school. I was very drunk and thought that I could have sex with this guy I’d been dating but even as drunk as I was, I couldn’t do it. Thank god he didn’t force me to, because I was truly so drunk that he probably could have. But I said no and he stopped. I guess I’m blessed that he was somewhat of a gentleman. I know many women who have had quite the opposite experience with this. It’s never okay for someone to force you to do something that you say no to. That’s never okay. Just know that. There is no excuse for that. It’s wrong. If you feel like this has happened to you then please tell someone. Get help. Don’t let it go or make excuses for the person who did it to you. It’s never right, under any circumstances. I just want you to know this. If you need help? You let me know and we will get you help. That I promise.

I am what the lesbian community refers to as a “Gold Star”, if any of you have watched The L Word then you probably know what this means. It simply means that I have never had sex with a man. I have only been with women. Some men may think that this means that technically I’m still a virgin. Well, let me tell you fellas, I’m definitely not a virgin! Then you get people who say, well how do you know you don’t like it with a man if you’ve never tried it? Again, let me tell you some things I know I don’t like even without trying it. If I see a gawd awful looking flashy sparkly shirt in the store, I know I wouldn’t like it even without trying it on, trust me. So, I’ve known that I don’t like men, not sexually, for all my life. I didn’t have to try it to know that. So, please, don’t even go there with me, okay?

Alright, back to the subject at hand. So, sex without love is just sex. I know and am very well aware that there are plenty of people out there that can truly just have sex, no strings attached. Well, not this girl. I met a lot of those people on the dating sites. It scares me! What? It really does. I guess I’ve never understood how you can be so intimate with another person without having feelings for them. I mean, I got propositions for the sex, no strings attached, thing but, uh no. Not interested. If you’ll have just sex with me and you don’t even know me then who the hell else have you had just sex with? Yeah! Scary! That’s how people get STD’s people! I’m a nurse for fuck sake! I know about these things. It’s not just that though. I mean yeah, the nastiness of it all is a huge turn off but it’s not just that. I have always had to have feelings for someone before I could do anything with them. And I’m not going to have feelings for someone that’s like, hit me up for a good time. Sorry, but not sorry. I’m kind of glad that I am the way I am. At least I know I’ve never had sex with someone I wasn’t in love with. That’s a comforting feeling to me.

You know most lesbians that I’ve ever met have been with at least one man. Some more than that. I think, just like me probably, they thought it was a requirement to at least try it. Sometimes I think us lesbians do it because we are really trying not to be lesbians. And maybe this would change our minds? Well, most of the time I think it just confirms what we knew in the first place. That we are truly lesbians.

In high school I was a horrible wild ass teenager. I drank alcohol, a lot. I did drugs, most of them. I never shot up. But everything else, yeah, probably did it? It is truly a miracle that at some point I didn’t end up sleeping with a guy? I never did though. I can appreciate a nice looking man or woman but not enough to drop my pants for them. No matter how good looking they are. There is more to it than that. I mean you have to have a connection. Mentally, emotionally, it has to be there before the physical can even be worth it. I guess I’ve never thought it was worth it to give myself to someone that didn’t love me and I didn’t love them. What a complete waste of time? I’m not into wasting my time.

I am so glad that I’ve found my girlfriend and I’m so glad that it’s not all about sex for her either. My first partner, well, let’s just say she really tried to not be a lesbian. That’s a nice way of putting it. And then my second partner, well, she was married to the same man for 25 years. Most people would say that’s pretty convincing proof of not being a lesbian? Yeah, well, sometimes not. My girlfriend now, she’s not or never has been promiscuous. Just like me. We have that in common, for sure. That and we don’t have kids and all the exes still being in the picture because they will always be in the picture when you have kids together. The tie that binds you forever.

So, speaking to all you people that think it’s okay to have “just sex”, how do you justify this? I’m asking clearly because I don’t understand how you can. I would like to know how it’s possible? I mean, I don’t think I could even get turned on enough to do it if I didn’t have feelings for the person. So, yeah, clearly I don’t get it. Is there any situation that makes it alright to have “just sex”? I can’t even think that way. Maybe some of us are just made differently? Maybe that’s it? Or maybe it’s some bad experience in your past that drove you to being able to have sex with no strings attached? No feelings? Who knows? Obviously, not me. So, feel free to comment and fill me in on your opinions. I’d love to hear them. Later Y’all!

My Family Disowns Me, Part Two

When I was 18 years old my dad kicked me out of the house. I knew this was coming mind you. I heard him say it since I could remember. I graduated high school when I was 17. I like to tell people that because it makes them think I’m incredibly smart. In truth, I was just born in June and my birthday fell right after graduation. So, genius? Not so much. Anyway, as I was saying my dad had threatened me with this my whole life. When you are 18 you’re  outta here! I was expecting it. It was not a surprise.

Graduation night is supposed to be one of the best nights of your teenage life. Mine was turned into a nightmare by my dad. He invited my Evil Stepmonster to attend. By this time we had actually been away from her for three years. She had mentally, physically, emotionally and psychologically abused me and my sister for five years and by that time it had all ended. My dad had either chosen to ignore it or he’s a complete and utter dumbass? Maybe both of those things are true? I still suffer the aftermath of my childhood. I’ve been diagnosed with PTSD, Anxiety, Depression, and Mood Disorder and that’s the tip of the iceberg, I’m sure. All because of my fucked up childhood. Thanks to my fucked up parents and especially thanks to my Evil Stepmonster.

Some background here. Quick synopsis of my childhood. Born, mom and dad hate each other, fight, fight, fight, put in foster home at 6 months old to a year old, mom and dad make up, get me back, fight, fight, fight, breakup, mom goes lesbian for a few months, mom decides she likes dick, mom and dad makeup, fight, fight, fight, breakup, live at grandmas with dad, mom and dad makeup, fight, fight, little sister is born, fight, breakup, makeup, fight, fight, mom leaves for another man, dad is left with us, we move in with grandma, live with her for three years, dad meets psycho bitch from hell and gets a really hot piece of ass and decides he can’t live without it, marries psycho bitch and she becomes the Evil Stepmonster, life as I know it is fucked up forever! Ok, so we will start there. My dad married this crazy bitch but no one knew how crazy she actually was. I knew the first week we were there. She came into the living room one night after I had taken a shower. I was 10 years old. She was a big woman. When I say big, I mean big. Tall big, like 6 foot and big size big, a definite plus size woman. When my dad had decided to marry her I cried all that day. Not because he was marrying someone who was not my mom. God knows, even then, I knew that, that relationship was never going to workout. I just knew that this was the end of my life as I knew it. Had she ever hit me or threatened me up to that point? No, she hadn’t. I just knew something was wrong. I’ll never forget my Aunt Brenda coming into my bedroom, which was actually just an extra bed in my grandmas room, and telling me that I was just upset because my dad was marrying someone who wasn’t my mom. Uh, no, Aunt Brenda that was totally not the fucking problem! Stupid adults. They think they know everything. You don’t! Anyway, my dad was doing this and there was nothing I could do to stop it. So yeah, my life was fucked! Like I was saying, that first night she showed her true colors was because I had hung my bath towel up and it was not straight. She leaned over me and said “You think you’re the queen of this house? You’re not! I am! And don’t you forget it! You little bitch!” Then she proceeded to beat me with her fist with body shots. She was good at covering her abuse. I was like a punching bag. She then said loudly “This is my house and I’m the queen of this house!” She had established her superiority. I knew this was going to be as bad, if not worse than I had anticipated. It wasn’t just us that she beat on. Her and my dad fought all the time. Got drunk and fought each other or more like she just beat the shit out of my dad because he wouldn’t hit a woman. He didn’t have any problem hitting me though. He had watched his dad beat his mom and he just wouldn’t hit my Stepmonster back. It was beyond a nightmare. I would say that my dad didn’t know she was beating us too but I don’t see how he didn’t know. I woke up one night to her standing beside the bunk beds. She was straggling my sister. I could her my sister choking. My sister was 4 years younger than me. So, she was like 6? I yelled as loud as I could for my dad. We left that night and went, you guessed it, back to grandmas. Then the Stepmonster called and actually talked my dad into coming back. My sister still had marks on her neck and my stupid ass father went back and took us back into that. My grandma had begged him not to take us back into that house. She begged him to just leave us there. He refused, of course and took us back to be tortured some more and possibly killed. He was thinking with his dick and not anything else.

So, my high school graduation night. He invites the bitch to come. Why in the hell was this happening to me? Then he insisted that I clean up my room. Why? Because the Evil Stepmonster could not stand anything to be out of place. This psycho bitch did white glove test after us kids had cleaned the house. I suspect he was doing this to get a piece of ass. I’m not sure but I hated him. I refused to pick up my room. He went off the deep end and beat me with the handle of the broom and left a huge bruise in the shape of the broom handle across my wrist. She attended my graduation. He got his wish. I don’t know if he got his wish of a piece of ass. But he got his wish of ruining my entire fucking night! My night. My night to walk across that stage and graduate from high school. He not only had ruined my life but he had ruined every special occasion or big moment I had ever had. I hated him. I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of his house. Gladly, I would leave. As soon as I went to graduation week with my friends in Myrtle Beach, SC. As soon as I got back I was planning on leaving. This would not be any problem. Except for I didn’t have anywhere to go. But I figured I would figure that out after the week of fun away from him and all his crazy fucked up decisions.

When I got back from the beach I was officially 18. So, time to get out. I had a job. I have always worked since I was old enough to do it. Since I was like 10 years old. I started baby sitting for neighbors and mowing yards. Been working ever since. I learned very young that if you ever want anything then you have to work. My dad sure as hell wasn’t going to give me money. So, I worked. I had a job in high school. I worked all the way through high school. Paid for my car. Bought my necessities. I don’t even have my junior year annual because I had to pay for it and I didn’t have the money. I asked my dad and he said “You work. You buy it.” and that was that. And people wonder why I don’t want to be around my dad now. Well, I guess now you know. I love my dad because he is my dad but I don’t like him, at all.

I ended up moving in with my mom. My mom is a very religious person now. She was going to church and had changed her life for the better. She was still married to my step dad. The one she left my dad and us for. Religion was working for her. She really had changed. I was actually impressed. She kept on at me and kept asking me to go to church with her. I ended up giving in. I mean it had worked for her right? Why not? What could it hurt? So, I went and I ended up liking it. The pastor was so caring and loving and for the first time in my life I felt loved. The pastor was wonderful and I ended up staying at her church. As you all know, I’m a lesbian. I ended up getting really close with one of the women who played the bass guitar at church. She played the bass guitar and opened up the services. We hung out together a lot. I have a thing for musicians. She opened up to me that she use to be a lesbian. Eventually, we ended up together. So much for “use to be a lesbian” hey y’all a tiger can’t change it’s stripes, so I’ve learned the hard way. It was the biggest church scandal in Kannapolis, NC, ever! We walked out of church together. She was eleven years my senior. Her name is Vickie. I admired a lot of things about her. One of the biggest things was she had guts. She didn’t play. If she loved someone then she would fight for them. She was not scared of anything. She stood up for me to her family. To my family. To the church people. She’d beat somebody up for talking about me. She was not a fake. She didn’t ever pretend to be someone she wasn’t. Well? Maybe playing reformed lesbian for awhile in church? We were together for 9 years. We fought like cats and dogs. The sex was good but everything else was not. She was controlling. She was very jealous. She never really trusted me. She accused me of cheating so much that I actually thought about doing it. She was abusive physically sometimes too. But then I thought, what did I expect, this was just like my parents were. This must just be the way people really are? It was a rough relationship. She had a son who was 12 years old when we got together. He hated me. It wasn’t all bad though. We had our good times. We were out of the closet. Everybody knew we were together. That was nice. She ended up going back to Church and I did too. I stayed there for another two years. Until I walked out of church again and she stayed. I would still to this day be there if she needed me. She was my first. My first woman. My first time. My first partner. My first on a lot of things. I care about her as a friend still. I don’t want to be in a relationship with her ever again, but I’d still help her if she needed me and I’d like to think she would do the same for me.

As I said it was the biggest church scandal ever when we walked out of church and turned out to be, lesbians! God forbid! My mom kicked me out of her house but I was leaving anyway. She told me I was going to hell and she pretty much disowned me. She ended up not speaking to me for six months after I left her house. I embarrassed her. I was the worst person ever. I had waltzed into church and seduced the bass player and the pastors right hand woman. I was the devil. I say that hearing Kathy Bates in the Water Boys  voice. Sorry. Anyways, I was the bad one. I had quite the reputation among church goers in that small town. So, my mom disowned me as I said, and my dad actually tried to talk me out of being a lesbian. I told him I was a lesbian when I was in the 4th grade. He didn’t believe me. He didn’t think I even knew what a lesbian was. Guess I proved him wrong? He told me we ALL had those tendencies but it didn’t mean we had to act on them. That acting on them was a choice. That’s the point of the conversation that it got weird. All I could think about was, did my dad have these tendencies? I think I probably blocked out the rest of that conversation, I’m just sayin’ people, wouldn’t you have? He called me at Vickies moms house where we were staying at that point, before we left. Due in part because her brother and mom got told we were “together” because the church people told them. And just like I said, Vickie was not having anyone saying anything about me. So, they said she could stay but I’d have to go. We both left. She gave them the choice. Either I stayed or we both left. It was a huge mess. Her and her brother ended up physically fighting. Her brother hunted me down with a gun. He was going to kill me. I remember hiding out at this guys house waiting to be told if the coast was clear. I didn’t even know the guy. He was a friend of her sisters. Waiting for the coast to be clear so I wouldn’t get shot. Yeah, it was crazy. But my family and her family had disowned us. All but her sister. She let us stay at her house until we got a place. With her and her husband and five kids. She didn’t have room but she made room. I loved her. She died young of cervical cancer. She was not only my, well, sort of sister-in-law except not in law. She was like my sister too. My sister didn’t have anything to do with me for a long long time. Even when she did finally speak to me she wouldn’t allow me to be around my neice or for my neice to be around me because I was a big fucking lesbian. Ha! How’d that work out for her? In spite of her keeping my neice away from me my neice ended up dating a woman for awhile. Hey, she can’t blame that one on me. That was all her and her straight husbands fault. Even kept her away from me when I started going back to church and was a “reformed lesbian” Scared I would make her daughter gay. Well, like I said, wasn’t me. I mean, she’s with a guy now but yeah, she went there.

So, that is the first story of my family disowning me and now we get to do it all over again. I was disowned at 19 and now I’m getting disowned again at age 44. Why? Because I’m doing it again. I’m being a lesbian. I got news for all of you. I’ve always been a lesbian. I’ve been a lesbian all my life. I know this because I had a crush on Lisa Welchel on the Mikey Mouse Club, I was 4 years old. Can’t make this shit up. I’ve tried to pray it away. I’ve tried to be someone I’m not. I can’t be reformed or delivered. The demon or spirit can’t be prayed out. I can’t practice abstinence so that I can be “right with God” I’ve already tried their way. It has never worked. It’s not gonna work now. All my friends are mostly church people. Well, were church people. They all have pretty much said that I’m, no surprise here, gonna go to hell. My mom has told me this too. She however has decided to at least talk to me but I’m still going to hell. But I know this, I was told. I know better. I know what’s right. I’m choosing to do wrong. Here we go again. My dad only calls me if he wants something. My sister is the same. My neice? Well, she and I have never really been close. She never called me to begin with. So, here I am at 44 and nothing has ever really changed. I haven’t changed in 44 years and neither has my family. I love them because they are my family but, I mean come on. Can’t we just all get along? For once in my life I’m truly happy and I can’t even share this with my family but then I think, when has my family ever been happy? Or happy for me? Never. So just like I’m not going to change being a lesbian, they aren’t going to change how they feel about me being a lesbian. I guess both parties are just going to have to agree to disagree. And so goes my disowning part two. But at this point I’m pretty much thinking, fuck them all! I don’t care anymore what anyone else thinks. I’m going to be happy. I’m not living the rest of my life hiding or pretending. Those days are gone forever! Knock, knock motherfuckers! It’s me, your lesbian daughter! I’m out of the closet and you can’t shove me back in no matter what you  think or do. It’s over folks. Like it or lump it. This lesbian has found the one that’s going to make me happy for the rest of my life. And who knows, one day I may actually marry this woman. And I think they hate me now? What’s that going to do? But I’m definitely not taking relationship advice from my parents. They never have had any success at that, themselves. At least I don’t have children to fuck up in my life. So, when they start wanting to give me advice on what to do. I just need to simply say, “Look parents and sibling. None of y’all have ever had any success at relationships. I don’t need or want your advice. Not now, not ever. And if you want to cast the blame of me being a lesbian? Go look in the mirror. And thanks to you, my wonderful loving parents for fucking me up so much that I’ve lived a completely horrible life, up until now. And you’re not going to fuck this up! Just because you all have never been happy doesn’t mean that I’m not going to be happy. So, pretty much either be happy for me or fuck off!” Sorry that that’s the way I feel, but it is.

This was a very personal post from me. Raw and unfiltered. I told myself that when I started blogging that I was going to be as truthful and as open as posssible. This is why I write like I speak. Sometimes I have a filter and sometimes I don’t. This is my life. I want to be as open and as honest as I can. But this one folks is probably the hardest one to post. It deals with some of the horrors of my past but then it ends up with the best thing that has ever happened to me, my Steph. I know, with her, I’m truly happy. I know my parents can’t mess this one up. I know that whether either one of them or my sister and neice accept me or not. She’s the one I’m going to spend the rest of my life with, regardless. Getting disowned at 19 was hard, really hard. But now, I don’t even care if they disown me. I’ve got my Steph and that’s all that really matters to me anymore. Thanks for reading my post and being supportive. I appreciate my readers more than they’ll ever know. And this is the reason I blog. To share my life with the ups and the downs, with all of y’all.