Tired of Being a Stupid Fuck Up

Seems like I can’t do anything right lately.  Things were going great for a while there. My girlfriend and her boys moved in with me and my kiddos.  I proposed and she accepted. Happiness all around! I love having her come home to me every night.  I love having all of our kiddos in the same house.  We sleep in each other’s arms.  We share our story now. It is as amazing as I had hoped and dreamed. Now if everything else could’ve just fallen into place too.

In April, I was let go from my job. I loved my job. I’m an IT Project Manager and that means I “people” for a living, translate between technical and non-technical people, negotiate, find common goals, and write reports about it.  I’m good at it. Unfortunately, my company made some financial mistakes and too many of us are now looking for jobs because of it. So I’m unemployed.

I went to see my therapist which I have done consistently for almost a year now.  Each week or every other week, I sit there and tell her what’s been bugging me and she helps me sort through it all. Definitely one of my heroes through the hell I’ve gone through with this divorce and the ongoing issues with my body following my accident two years ago. She’s been with me this entire time.

A few weeks ago, I had a joint session with my fiance’s therapist just ahead of moving in together and he asked me about my ADHD and how it is being treated. I looked at him like he was on drugs. Then my fiance nodded like, yeah.  So I asked my therapist and she was like, yeah. And so I told some friends and they were like, yeah.

So now I’m like WHAT THE FUCK? Has no one thought to talk to me about it so that maybe I could be treated for it? So that I could quit being such a fuck up? So that maybe the stupid shit that I forget to do every day I don’t feel so horrible about because I’m actually biologically fucked up and forgetting simple shit is what my brain does to me? Maybe if I were treated for this, I could actually be able to not forget what the fuck I was doing and get something done for once!

All I know is that when I forget to do something small, I seem to gather up oh it’s ok she’s just stupid points. I can no longer just let myself be a fuck up.  I need to fix this. I need to quit forgetting to do simple shit. I’m pissed off that I have no insurance right now – which means I can’t get on meds – which means I can’t fix my fucked up biology – yet.

We moved.  I’m unemployed.  We should be fully unpacked right?  Wrong.  Because I keep fucking that up too. Can’t seem to find time to unpack even a single box most days.  I’ve been looking at the same pile of shit in the front room for a month now. I manage to get a few things done each day but it never seems to meet the standards of either my own expectations or my fiance’s. I see disappointment in her eyes when she gets home from work and the same pile of shit greets her.  She says she’s not disappointed but she’s frustrated at a minimum. But the fridge is dispensing water now!  I sold the giant ass TV and made a hole in the garage’s pile of shit. I slaughtered the rooster that was supposed to be a hen and kept waking us up at 5am and he’s ready to eat now! I’ve made delicious dinners every single night this week using scraps from our empty cupboards and fridge.  I’ve kept the kitchen reasonably clean.  I’ve managed not to kill the children while you’re at work.  For the first few weeks, I drove two hours each day to pick up two of the kids after school because they were still attending where you used to live and it was during rush hour.  Often taking them to sports or therapy afterward – and I never once complained because I didn’t mind at all. I liked being needed and feeling loved when they ran out of their classrooms and into my open arms.

But I fucked up my unemployment. I missed requesting four checks because I’m stupid.  I didn’t hit “confirm” so they weren’t sent and there’s nothing I can do about it.  Then I forgot to update my address when we moved so when the checks started flowing, they got sent back because government mail doesn’t get forwarded – and somehow everyone but me knew this. I forgot to do a five second task I promised I would do. I left a couple of bills on autopay because I’ve used it for the past 20 years without any problems but now it’s a problem and having those bills come out as planned sucked for my bank account. I forgot to deposit the one check I needed to on time. I forgot to email the old landlord about them stealing $550 from us. I forgot to tell my ex to pay me for the damn truck he got in the divorce because no the bank won’t just put the loan in his name.  And on and on and on.

I’m tired of disappointing every single person, every single day. I’m tired of feeling like a failure. I’m tired of not feeling good enough for anyone. Can’t clean up the pile of shit in the living room or the front room.  Can’t remember to start dinner early enough to eat at a reasonable hour. But hey, want that picture hung perfectly level – I can zone in on that for hours until it’s done right. Want me to start six projects and finish none of them?  On it. That’s my specialty.

My therapist actually says it explains a lot about the way my parents treated me as a kid. Here I was this high energy, super excited kid who noticed everything and my parents just wanted me to sit down and shut up and be who they said I was supposed to be. Then I grew up to be something they believe to be disgusting and reprehensible. I’m divorced and gay. Obviously, they raised a piece of trash.

To top it all off – my kids are going to go spend 10 days with my bio family.  The ones who are angry with me for some unsaid reason but the only thing that’s changed is that I’m not married to that man anymore and I am gay.  That man who they have accepted with open arms. The one who committed perjury on the stand. The admitted, untreated alcoholic who verbally, emotionally, and socially abused me and flat denied all of it. The one who practically raped me when he found out I preferred women. Only, I can’t say he did because technically, I didn’t say no. But they are paying for his airfare – flying him down, welcoming him to their table, speaking kindly to him, allowing him to stay in their home, allowing him to teach my children to question my devotion to them… all while pretending he’s done nothing wrong that I am the person who is to blame for the marriage failing – when his drinking, lying, and daily endangerment of the kids was the sole and only reason our marriage failed.  I figured out who I was only after the hetero-christian box I was forced into collapsed around me.

I was in town six months ago for New Years.  I reached out.  I offered to meet for coffee. My parents said no. MY PARENTS SAID NO TO COFFEE.  Coffee.  They can’t even be in my presence for half an hour with several weeks notice. But they can let him stay at their house with open arms and an open wallet. I shouldn’t be surprised.  They didn’t call when I was almost killed in an accident. Why should I think they’d want me now?

He’s a prince and I’m a reject. How the fuck is this reality?  I am an idiot for thinking I was ever loved by them. They chose when to give me praise and it was so infrequent that I spent every day trying to live up to their standards, just to get that ounce of praise I craved. I was never good enough then, I’m not good enough now, I’ll never be good enough.


My Dad has a Blog

My Dad is a blogger.  He is one of the biggest hypocritical bigots on the planet.

He has rallied for Ted Cruz for months – I keep typing responses like this one into some of his posts but can’t bring myself to hit “send”.

So what you’re saying is that you fully support and encourage Republicans to vote for Rafael “Ted” Cruz?  You do know that he is not a naturalized US citizen (born in Canada – which you railed against Obama for)?  I’m sure you realize he is a staunch anti-gay rights / anti-marriage equality candidate.  Your second daughter is a lesbian.  How does she feel about you supporting such a bigoted candidate with an agenda that clearly focuses on taking away her rights as a human?  Should she not be allowed to love a person of the same sex just because you think it’s wrong?  Isn’t the US built on the premise that religion and politics should not be intertwined?  She’s not asking to be allowed to marry because her religion mandates it. She’s asking to be married because your religion should never have banned it in the first place.  Have you even spoken to your daughter since she realized the hetero-christian box you forced her into as a child was not right for her and came out?  Do you expect her to ever want to spend time in your company again when you hold beliefs that are clearly opposed to everything she is and always has been?  How do you expect her to respond when everything you’ve rallied for and against her entire life slaps her in the face for who she is?

I just want to scream in his face sometimes.

22 Nights

Since the moment I met my girlfriend, I knew she was the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.  We’ve been together for almost eight months now and I haven’t had a moment of doubt.  My love has grown with each passing day and she continues to amaze me with the love she has for me.  She’s seen me at my worst and my best.  She brings me up when I’m down and down when I’m too far up.

Back in July, a series of events unfolded that allowed us to spend 22 nights in a row together.  First, her sons went on a week long vacation with their dad so she came and stayed at my home.  Two days before her sons returned, my kiddos left for a ten day trip with their father.  I employed a dog sitter and we spent the next ten nights in each other’s arms, first at her house then on a camping trip with her extended family.  After we returned from camping, her sons left for another week with their dad and my kiddos came home.  The last week was spent at my home where we got to get up and go to work together, cook and clean up dinner together, hang out and watch TV together, and so much more.

I have always been comfortable in her arms and worship the good night’s sleep I get when she is next to me.  She likes to touch me while she sleeps.  It could be holding my hand or placing her hand on my body.  She likes to spoon some nights and on other nights she’ll bury her face in my chest with her arms and legs wrapped around me tightly.  Feeling her touch or her breath on my skin sends shock waves of happiness throughout my body.  The smell of her hair and body is intoxicating. The softness and curves of her skin turn me on so quickly and deeply I become a sexually deprived adolescent in seconds at the thought of touching her.

With my divorce still pending and my children’s resistance to merging households, we have made the decision to hold off on moving in together until next summer at the earliest.  We agree that it would not be a good choice to relocate her boys in the middle of a school year.  Her boys have repeatedly asked me when I’m “going to become their other mom” or “when do they get to have two moms”.  To which I reply – someday.  I loathe the nights apart.  Living a half an hour apart means we only see each other on weekends and on rare weeknights.  We manage to talk to each other throughout the day while we’re at our desks but night is a different story.  I especially loathe the nights where we don’t get to talk as much as we would if she were here.  Between our children’s sports schedules and social events, there are plenty of nights when we barely manage to say good night.  Having spent 37 years living in a world that didn’t feel right, I don’t want to wait for anything anymore.  I want to take life by the horns and grab it not sit idly by while the winds shift so that my sails can be filled.  I want to fast forward to next summer but yet I don’t want to miss a single day with her or my kiddos.  Life is cruel and yet now that I know who I am, it is ever so amazing.

Those 22 nights were pure bliss.  We had some deep conversations, we laughed, we smiled, we relaxed, we played, we had LOTS of sex.  They ended two nights ago and I haven’t slept well since.  The first night without her, I fell asleep on the couch waking up at 2am with a stiff neck and deep regrets.  The second night, I went to bed at a reasonable hour but couldn’t fall asleep.  My bed was cold and no amount of blankets would warm it up.  Tonight I’m an insomniac.  It’s nearly 2am and although I’ve been exhausted all day, sleep is not my friend.

I miss her arms around me.  I miss her smile.  I miss her laugh.  I’m head over heels in love with her.

Am I Really a Victim with a Defeatist Attitude?

I used an analogy today that seems to represent the way I feel lately.  I feel like a punching bag.  I keep getting punched. Over and over and over and over and over.  I’m strong enough to withstand each punch but that doesn’t mean the punches don’t hurt.

I’m still not divorced.  Not because I don’t want to be nor because I haven’t offered several times to settle but because my ex has no desire to see the reality of the situation and is forcing us all the way into a trial.  I have had the hope several times now that after the five times the court has ruled in my favor that it would make it clear to him that he isn’t going to get what he’s asking for.  During the trial, he will probably call people to the stand that claim I’m a bad mother.  He’ll name call and chastise me for about a day.  I can handle that.  Even if it’s my family doing the name calling.  The people he could call don’t know me and haven’t known me for a long time.  My lawyer will have no problem destroying their credibility on the stand.  I’ve got a lot of people who are willing to refute whatever claims he might make and I’ll bring them all.  But going through the motions of getting to this trial and the day to day frustrations that come with not being divorced yet are all punches.  Sitting in that courtroom will be a marathon of punches and I’m already wincing at the thought of the pain I will bear.

Life is not easy and hasn’t been for awhile now.

As mentioned before, I am a very different person than I used to be and it’s not easy on me or my kids.  Muddled in with all the divorce drama is me as a newly single mom dealing with traumatized kids who are further traumatized each time they spend time with their father.  Their visits with him make them rude, angry, and bitter.  It takes hours for them to return to happy after spending time with him.  My daughter, being a teenager, is especially frustrated because she can sense things at a deeper level than her brother but isn’t quite old enough to voice them in a way that allows her to find peace in the situation.  I am her safe place.  She vents her frustrations on me because she knows that I will still love her when she’s done.  My son’s defense is tears.  He cries – a lot – too much.  He uses tears to get attention and it usually works because I feel the immediate pangs of being a mother and want to “fix” it as soon as it starts.  I am starting to recognize his tactic and have began deploying the “suck it up” method of parenting with this kid.  But each day, more punches and from my kids no less.

I am whining a bit but to me it’s totally worth it because this blog is my safe place.  I have a wonderful girlfriend.  She loves me for me.  I have been been madly in love with her since the moment we started dating and six months later, I continue to love her more and more each day.  I have moments where I haven’t been able to see the forest through the trees but she is capable of telling me there is more to this than what I can see and feel.  For example, I was frustrated with the way one person was treating me.  She pointed out that this is just one person and his opinion has zero impact on who I am.  She said I needed to quit being a victim with a defeatist attitude.  That stung.  It was painful to hear those words.  Far more painful than I will ever admit.  So many people before her have thrown this label on me and it’s beginning to tear at my skin.

I have been doing everything I can to quit being a victim of my circumstances, to not let life get me down.  I have sometimes lost this battle and given in to the temptation to whine but only for a moment.  I don’t wear the banner of my past on my chest.  Even though it lives in my heart and in my memories.  I haven’t forgotten how painful some of the experiences of my life were.  They flow through my brain like they were just yesterday.  The times I was ridiculed or teased, the times I wasn’t up to someone else’s standard, the times I utterly failed, and so many more painful memories.  But also in my brain, flowing alongside these memories, are the happy memories.  Getting to see my kiddos for the very first time. Going on adventures with my lady love and all over the globe, people who have come and gone from my life, scores and scores of happy memories.  Far more than the negative ones that seek to ruin me.  Once in a while, I let an unhappy memory leak out of my face.  I am a Gemini.  I talk.  I talk and I think.  So when one of these thoughts becomes my focus, I tend to discuss it.  Not necessarily looking for someone to tell me how to deal with it.  Just wanting someone to understand my past or present situation because I always feel so misunderstood.  Often these memories come up only when triggered and can lead to a snowball of past frustrations. Looking at a dress in a catalog reminds me of the cruel way my family ridiculed my strong desire to never dress like a girl, which reminds me of the time last week when someone picked on me for the way my hair was, etc. Depending on the person who I’m with, I might share a snippet of the story.  Apparently, this comes across as playing the victim card when in reality it’s just the way my brain processes things.  I see something, my brain relates it to a memory.  My Gemini mouth discusses it without thinking about it.

Sometimes I let the frustrations of the moment slip out of my face when I’ve taken too many punches for the day.  Everyone can only take so much before they need to take a breath and fight their inner demons with a new strategy.  I’m horrible at asking for help.  I don’t know how to do it.  This is the same reason why I went to bed hungry for months instead of going to a food bank. I couldn’t admit that I needed help!  I spent most of my life being ignored by the people that should have realized I was not like them, that should have allowed me to be the butch lesbian I have always been.  I was taught to just go with whatever they said because resistance was futile or painful at best. I still can’t let myself dress entirely the way I want out of fear of rejection.  Then, after finally breaking free of that life, I almost immediately had to spend six months living at someone else’s mercy.  I ate when she fed me, I bathed when she showered me, I slept when she medicated me.  I got used to not having a voice – my whole life I have never had a voice UNTIL NOW.  I can finally tell my story the way I remember it not the revisionist history others have trumped up to feel better about themselves.  The problem is when I point out that something hurt my feelings or trumped up a memory, I’m called a victim.  When I try not to show how much each punch hurts, but they start building up and I can’t fight the frustration anymore, I am said to be letting life defeat me.  I could expel so many victim-like statements soaked in a defeatist attitude about my past but it isn’t important any more and doesn’t deserve my focus and energy.  I’m not defeated.  I AM NOT A VICTIM.  I AM A SURVIVOR.  I’m not losing this battle to win my life back. I’m winning it!  I am stronger now than I ever have been.  I can go out in public dressed however I want without any regret – although I haven’t had the budget to actually purchase the clothes I want to wear yet. I have the most perfect girlfriend whom I look forward to spending the rest of my life with.  I get to know my kids all over again as they become teenagers and young adults.  I’m free of the boundaries and fears that I was held to and held on to for so long.

I’m tired of being told I’m acting like a victim.  I’ve worked very hard to get here and I’m not going back.

I survived. I am happy. I am thriving. I am still healing.

A year ago today I posted this…

On my way to work this morning while riding my motorcycle I rear ended a semi truck. I was driving in commuter traffic and the semi suddenly stopped, locking up its brakes and fishtailing in front of me. I quickly ran out of stopping distance and drove into the back of the semi trailer going probably 15 miles an hour. I shattered my right forearm and my left arm is broken as well. I have a mild concussion but I got very lucky I have a long road with my right arm but I will be okay. The ambulance driver said my gear saved me from a worse fate. Responding to texts and answering phone calls is not easy right now. Please have patience with me.


A year ago today, my life was forever changed in a horrible accident. I remember the truck braking in front of me, I remember the truck’s paint two inches from my face, and I remember waking up on the side of the freeway screaming at the top of my lungs facing my mangled right arm. I don’t remember trying to stop or being ejected from my motorcycle. I remember the ambulance ride where I begged for pain meds because I was losing consciousness. I remember watching my friend arriving thinking it was minutes later only to realize I’d been out of it for hours. I remember the shocked look on her face when my family hung up on her when she tried to tell them I was in the emergency room. I remember seeing a friend from work coming to collect my work badge and deliver my final paycheck but it is only a fleeting memory. And then I remember spending weeks and weeks on a couch, either in horrible pain or in a drug induced blur. Then on my birthday, a mere 10 days after my accident, I went to work at a new job – delaying my recovery by months just to keep my family fed and housed.

My ex has focused on making my life as difficult as possible over the past year.  He has tried numerous times to take away my children, only to be told by the court that he’s a fool for trying.  He’s attempted to extort money, only to be responded to with court rulings that are clear that the money is not owed to him.  He’s dragging the divorce through the mud trying to do everything he can to hurt me, only he’s the one that is going to hurt when it’s over because I have moved on and I will win this war.

Yes, I wasn’t going that fast and I was able to post on Facebook that night (with text to speech and help from a friend) so it couldn’t have been that bad – right? I had no idea the long road I was facing. It has been a year full of battles. I’m still suffering some effects. The mild concussion I was diagnosed with turned into an eight month sanity battle. I often spoke and thought gibberish. I had many bouts with PTSD. I was exhausted. I ended up losing my new job. I had to fight to see my kids at all. I was in pain. I was suicidal. My family never came to see me, never offering to help in any way, and only texted me a couple of times to check on me because they cannot find it in themselves to accept a gay daughter who is divorcing a man who mistreated her. One of my dearest best friends could never understand the impact this accident had on me, so I had to walk away from our friendship after twenty years. The family that took me in after my accident, and took care of me for the next five months, deserves so much of my gratitude for helping me with not only the intimate care I required but the mental health care that truly is the reason I am here today but they have moved on with their lives and I am not a part of it anymore. They watched me suffer horrible pain and helped minimize it as much as they could, monitoring my meds carefully, dealt with having two extra kids around, found ways to feed me even when my body refused food, helped me in so many ways I cannot even come close to listing them all here. I wish I could thank them today for being the primary reason I survived.

But I am here. I am alive. I SURVIVED. I am ready to turn a new page and move on from this dark past. I am happier than I have ever been in my entire life. I’ve lost almost 60 pounds since my accident so I feel good. My strength is returning. I get to spend time with my kiddos every single day which I wouldn’t trade for anything in this world. I have a fantastic landlord and dear friend who has helped me through some rough times. I’d be homeless without her. My chosen family helped transport me to see my kids when I was unable to drive, helped me clean and move into my home, and helped me come through my darkest days – saving my life more times than they know. I have so many friends who have helped me to see that even though I’ve become estranged from my family, due to their biases, that I have a chosen family and that I am loved. I love all of you and I am so grateful to have each of you in my life.

Most significantly, I have found my real soul mate. She is the most amazing woman who has seen me at my best, and at my worst, and still keeps showing up. I am happier now than ever because she is in my life. She is the yang to my yin. I love her boys as if they were my own and I am looking forward to having her in my life for the rest of it.

Today Was a Great Day

Tomorrow should be even better…

My kiddos both had good days today.  We didn’t have any arguments, they smiled and laughed often.  We had a great family dinner and enjoyed each others company.

My ex has been accusing me of being the sole cause of my children’s poor behavior in school and at his home.  Since he has them directly before school and when they are at his house, this makes sense right that their behavior when not in my care is my fault?  Uh no.  Hey jackass…  When the kids misbehave for you, it’s you not me.

I am so ready to be divorced from him.  He is vengeful and bitter and angry and scared.  So he has taken me to court four times in he past five months.  He has lost every single hearing because he is asking for things that fall outside of precedence.  He and his father want to take every penny I have because I had the gall to want out of an unhappy marriage while being the breadwinner.  Unfortunately for him, since I am the one that spent all that time earning my degree and career, I get to keep it and he gets to go grow up at almost 40.  He claims I made him give up his career and that our financial struggles were my fault not at all related to his failure to provide a fucking penny to the family or over five years.  Total lies.  I begged him to find work.  So now after four court hearings where the judge has repeatedly ruled directly against his wishes, he has filed an appeal to be heard tomorrow.  His lawyer typed up a nine page request for revision that said how the commissioner fucked everything up, how he should have more alimony, how he should have child support, how I don’t have the kids as much as the actual factual math shows, how I should pay for his personal debts before we pay community debts with the few remaining community dollars, and how I should be held in contempt for paying him 12 hours late one time.  He also submitted a divorce settlement proposal which contradicts every ruling as if I might even consider agreeing to any of it.  I’d rather pay for a trial than go with his lunacy.  Like I would even glimpse at considering giving up my time with my kids and nearly half my salary when I have more time than he does to spend with them, through an established routine, and the courts have repeatedly stated through four court orders now that he has a sufficient income without any more money coming from me and what he is getting won’t last very long.  Time to grow up you drunk, lazy, asshole.

Lose some weight, take some anger management classes, go see a therapist who will help you come to terms with being the actual cause of the marriage failing not the ex wife who stuck with you for fifteen agonizing years.  Plus get over that I am gay.  Suck it up. I was raised by homophobes.  It wasn’t something I was allowed to fathom.  I’ve always liked women, I just didn’t know it because I wasn’t able to discover who I was.  I was forced into a box and I did my best but the walls failed and the world out here makes a hell of a lot more sense than that box ever did.

Fingers crossed that I win tomorrow.  If I do, I expect to be divorced within a month or so.  We will offer an immediate settlement that matches what the court has given him so far.  Nothing more.  Because fuck him and his cunt father.

My lawyer did an amazing job citing case law and precedence in her rebuttal that just destroys anything he tried to stand behind as a reason for the appeal.  Sure its possible I will lose tomorrow which would be horrifying but I am hugely optimistic.  Even his own lawyer hates him and thinks he is a trite fool who will fail and end up with less for telling the court they are wrong for ruling along side precedence using real math.

I’m NOT Renting a Uhaul!

I’ve been told by some of my seasoned lesbian friends that new lesbians fall in love hard and fast.  We tend to move in together too soon and we are head over heels in love within seconds of meeting.  Uhaul lesbians – they are a real thing.

I met this girl back in December.  She is absolutely the greatest love I have ever had.  The same one I mention in https://thebreadwinninglesbian.wordpress.com/2015/01/26/its-been-awhile/.  She cares about me in a way that no one really ever has before.  She doesn’t let me pretend that I’m fine when I’m not.  She doesn’t let me worm my way out of uncomfortable conversations with a joke.  She holds me when I’m weak and leans on me when I’m strong.  We still haven’t had a single argument or even a bickering session.  She amazes me.  Every time I look at her I think wow she is absolutely gorgeous and I don’t deserve her, I hope she doesn’t figure it out.

Oh, and in bed – holy shit.  This girl is amazing in bed.  She’s not my first woman but OH MY GOD.  I have never wanted someone as much as I want to be with her.  I crave sex.  I actually dream about it now.  For the first time in my life, I’m with someone I want to be with.  The best part – she likes sex with me as much as I like it with her.  She’s scandalously sexy in bed.  She has introduced new things to me in the bedroom that just makes me squish when I think about it.

So we don’t fight, we are both widely attracted to each other, she makes me be a better person than I thought i could be.  I love her, she loves me. Did we move in together?  Nope. Not yet.  But we’ve got it planned out!  We both have two kids.  Her sons are excited to add me to their family but my kids (who are still freshly injured in a vengeful divorce) are not nearly as excited about the whole adding brothers / mothers thing.  I want to marry her – she knows this.  But I’m waiting until I’m officially divorced and my kids accept the idea a little better before I buy her a real engagement ring.  We aren’t even moving in together for at least another year although spending days at a time away from each other in our own homes is torturous at best.  We want to do this right so we wait.  When her boys are with their dad, she’s at my house with me and my kiddos.  When my kids are at their dads, I’m at her house with her and her boys.  When we on a very rare occasion have no children – we stay naked for days.

I’m in love.  I am willing to wait a lifetime to call her my wife.

Side Note:  Amazing how much the brain washing of conservative christianity can do to a gay person.  Having been in wrong sex relationships my whole life, I hated sex.  I thought of it as a bi annual chore to avoid because it just never turned me on.  I spent the better part of twenty years avoiding sex.  I would get dressed for work after my ex left the bedroom so that he wouldn’t see me naked.  I would lock the door when I showered.  I wouldn’t go to bed until he was guaranteed to be asleep.  I slept in full pajamas and insisted he wear them too making up an excuse about how the kids might need us in the middle of the night.  In fact, one time in my sleep he tried to poke me awake for sex and I yelled (while SOUND ASLEEP) that “you know I don’t like it when you touch me” – he was angry for days at that one.  I hated / despised / loathed sex with men.  Penises and the stuff that comes out of them, have always made me want to vomit.  I look back now and see all the times that I should have been able to figure out what was misaligned in my life and am just dumbfounded how long it took me to realize I like women.  I preferred lesbian porn, all my favorite actors were women, all my favorite musicians were women, the whole penis thing, everything about me – so much more than I want to list – screamed that I was indeed into women.  I think my parents saw this and purposely steered me away from realizing who I really was.  I was often ridiculed for the way I dressed or wanted to do my hair.  I finally started just letting the hair dresser decide and went with it because it was easier than requesting something my mother and sisters would shame me for.  I wore dresses when I had to because I was tired of being asked why I didn’t want to.  I married the first man that seemed capable of putting up with me.