A Girl and Her Clothes

Here is something that a lot of people may or may not know about me. I hate wearing pants. I really do. To the extreme. I never really liked to wear them. If I never had to wear a pair of pants again for the rest of my life, I would be a very happy girl.

I do, however, love to wear dresses and skirts. I wish I could wear a dress or a skirt and blouse every day. It’s not practical to, however. It would be very difficult to perform my duties at work and to do some things around the house. I look for excuses to wear a skirt or a dress. I actually look for excuses to get dressed up.

I wish I had an excuse to own a cocktail dress or two. (Or three or four or five. LOL) Wouldn’t it be nice to get all dressed up and go to a party. I don’t exactly run in that sort of social crowd. I don’t really even get invited to that many weddings. Speaking of which, I never got to wear a wedding gown.

But, my affinity for dresses goes very deep. I like to watch period pieces so I can see the lovely dresses the women get to wear in them. Shows like The Tudors, Game of Thrones, Downton Abbey, Versailles and others.

I think the Victorian Era is one of my favorites. The Renaissance. Antebellum America.

I like the idea of Renaissance fairs, and being able to wear one of those gowns. I’ve never been to one. At this point in my life, I don’t have the income I would need to own one of those beautiful dresses. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if they had Victorian and Antebellum fairs? Events spread out through the year so we could get all dressed up from different time periods. Someone should make that happen.

It really sucks that every time I see a masquerade being held for charity or something, I never have the money to attend.

And, why are all the really pretty dresses designed for skinny women and all us plus sized girls stuck with mostly ugly ass things.

Oh well. I’ll just keep wearing the dresses and skirts I have every chance I get and make the most of it.

Peace, love and light, my friends.

Catie

https://www.paypal.me/CatherineBoudreau

The Power of Air

This one’s a little different from my usual ramblings. I wrote this for an online publication, and whenever I do that, I always share it on my blog site. Most of the time it’s either witch or transgender related, so it fits right in. This time, the article was about the element air.

I couldn’t find a way to write it in my usual style, so I wrote this, instead.

Air is a very powerful force of nature. I’ve had some experience with this on a first hand basis. For those of you who don’t know me, I lived in South Florida, in the Florida Keys, for 26 years. During that time I went through three Category 5 Hurricanes. I also went through several other hurricanes of lesser extent and some tropical storms, as well. Don’t let the name tropical storm fool you, they can be just as damaging, sometimes even more so, than a hurricane.

My first Hurricane experience was Hurricane Andrew in 1992. The town of Homestead looked like somebody had actually dropped a bomb on it. The devastation was just unbelievable and I remember one of the people with me when we went back to the area to check my property started crying and asked to leave. Watching people sit through the wreckage of what used to be their homes is something that truly humbled me makes me feel how absolutely small I am in the grand scheme of things.

In 2005, I made my first trip to Missouri with my then girlfriend, now wife. We made an impromptu decision to make the drive up in August. She had sold her car she had in storage, and we needed to come up and get it out of the storage unit so that the buyer could pick it up. The day we were scheduled to leave is the day Tropical Storm Katrina hit the Florida Keys. After it passed, we decided to get in the car and make the drive anyway. As we were heading up the peninsula it doubled back and crossed over us as Hurricane Katrina. Because we were driving and really not paying attention to the news and figuring that everything would be OK, we did not realize that as we drove through Mississippi, Category 5 Hurricane Katrina was battering the area and we drove through it. This is not an experience I recommend to anybody. This is the most unbelievably stressful and nerve-racking experience I have ever been through.

We got the outskirts of Hurricane Rita in September, and in October, Wilma went through. But, the damage from Wilma was more water related than air. At least in my area.

I also experienced a tornado that went through the keys in the late 90s. I don’t remember exactly when and it didn’t effect me directly, but, I do remember people I know telling me that they had lost their homes to it. I remember the night it went through it sounded like the proverbial freight train that they tell you it sounds like, but it was about a mile to the north of where I was in Key Largo.

Any of you who have lived here in the Midwest for any amount of time have probably experienced, or know someone who’s experienced, a tornado. I remember having the alarms go off and experiencing my first tornado warning last summer (2018). We hadn’t done our research and we didn’t know what to do. Luckily for us, any tornadoes that were in the area were to the north of us and we remained safe.

So as you can see from my words here, air can be a very powerful and destructive force. But, air also can be a very lovely thing. That nice breeze on a warm summer day. I used to love to stand with my feet buried in the sand when I was up to my knees in the ocean at Sea Oats Beach, in the Florida Keys, with the wind blowing through my hair. It was a very calming and refreshing experience. Very cleansing.

And then, of course, there are sound waves. Sound waves travel through the air. That vibration of tones that resonate through the air that causes sound. It allows us to hear things (the wind blowing through the trees?). Like music, for example.

One of my favorite artists once said something along the lines of “the concept that music, as a series of vibrations, resonates within the body to create emotion.” How true is that? Who hasn’t been effected emotionally by music at sometime in their lives? I know that whenever I get overwhelmed by life, either too angry or emotionally upset, I turn on my favorite music to help me get to my happy place.

So, I think we’ve established that air can be very powerful thing in both a positive and negative way. It is something that should be respected.

Peace, Love and Light, my friends.

https://www.paypal.me/CatherineBoudreau

Clowns to the Left of me, Jokers to the Right: Vote the Middle

Call me silly, but, I don’t feel that I should have to choose between my Rights. I don’t believe that I should have to decide which party better represents my interests, when neither one of them does. My Rights are my Rights! They are guaranteed to me in the Constitution. Yet, both parties are trying to deny my Rights.

It is my opinion that in all groups or gatherings, there is a faction of 3-5% that make almost all the “noise”. 3-5% of the left, and, 3-5% of the right, screaming at the top of their lungs, “this is how it has to be.” They try to tell you how you must live your life, because it’s what they want and what they say is right.

Democrats don’t elect candidates. Republicans don’t elect candidates. Independents do.

According to Gallup, the average percentage of people who answered Independent when asked their political affiliation this year was 43%. It’s been between 39-45%. Those are huge numbers considering we are a Republic. In a Republic, in a three way race, an election can be won with as little as 34% of the vote. The problem is, most Americans are under the delusion that the United States is a democracy, which requires 50.1%, and therefore must vote for one of the two “super power” parties.

I’m here to tell you that there is a very viable third opinion. The Libertarian Party. Look them up. They represent more of what the majority of the population wants, better than either of the two corporate owned parties do.

I urge you to vote your conscious. But I also strongly urge you to make an educated one by performing you do diligence and really looking into your choices. You owe it to yourself. You owe to your posterity and the future of your country.

Peace, Love and Light, my friends.

Catherine Marie Boudreau

What’s a Bully?

Other than Donald Trump and his administration? I mean, if these jerks in D.C. aren’t bullies, then there’s no such thing.

These are some definitions describing what a bully is or what it means to bully (mine will follow):

According to google:

bul·ly¹/ˈbo͝olē/

verb

1. use superior strength or influence to intimidate (someone), typically to force him or her to do what one wants.
2. Synonyms: persecute, oppress, tyrannize, browbeat, harass, torment, intimidate, strong-arm, dominate, coerce, pressure, force

verb

According to Dictionary.com

gerund or present participle: bullying

1. a blustering, quarrelsome, overbearing person who habitually badgers and intimidates smaller or weaker people. 

—verb (used with object), bul·lied, bul·ly·ing.

6. to act the bully toward; intimidate; domineer. 

—verb (used without object), bul·lied, bul·ly·ing.

7. to be loudly arrogant and overbearing. 

Synonyms: annoyer, antagonizer, insolent, intimidator, oppressor, persecutor, tormentor

Merriam-Webster:

bul·lied bul·ly·ingtransitive verb

• 1: to treat (someone) in a cruel, insulting, threatening, or aggressive fashion : to act like a bully. She bullied her younger brother
• 2: to cause (someone) to do something by means of force or coercion. He was bullied into accepting their offer

Synonyms: abuse, brutalize, ill-treat, ill-use, kick around, mistreat

<A Norwegian researcher, Dan Olweus, says bullying occurs when a person is “exposed, repeatedly and over time, to negative actions on the part of one or more other persons.” or “when a person intentionally inflicts injury or discomfort upon another person, through physical contact, through words, or in other ways.”>1

Now, do you want to know my thoughts on the subject? I’m going to try to explain it to you the best way I know how. By using the transgender community as an example. Because that’s what I know.

If you pretend to be my friend, and post something putting down another transgender person for being transgender, you put me down, and you’re a bully.

It’s fine if you don’t like CAITLYN Jenner. I don’t care if you don’t like HER political views or HER lifestyle. But, SHE has the right to be the person SHE feels SHE is, inside. When you post something calling HER by HER dead name, ridiculing certain “parts”, and mocking HER right to exist, you might as well walk up to me and punch me in the face. SHE has the right to exist, no matter what you think of HER.

If your religion tells you to dislike people because they’re not like you, you’re a bully. I’ve written entire blogs about this in and of itself, so I won’t get into, here. You know what I mean.

If you laugh at someone because they don’t fit nicely into the category you call “normal”, you’re a bully.

There was a regular customer at Lowe’s, who came in at least a couple times a week. Every time he saw me, he would laugh, and mock me to whoever he was with. He never said anything directly to me, but, I always heard him. I chose to ignore it.

People are so selfish. They put down anything they don’t understand without even trying to learn about it. “I don’t get you, so you don’t have the right to exist.”

You can try to bully me, but chances are you won’t get away with it. I tend to stand up to my bullies. To the point where I lost my job over it. I wrote a blog about it. So, you might want to think twice before you try to pull some shit on me.

Before you put somebody down because you don’t get it, maybe you should ask yourself one of the following questions:

Does this person take food off my table or away from my family?

Does this person take away my place of residence?

Does this person make it so I can’t breath?

Does this person make it so I can’t vote or express my opinion?

Does this person affect my life in any way other than what I manufacture in my own mind but isn’t a real thing?

Chances are, you aren’t affected in any way by this person other than what you perceive in your own mind. Get over your self. Really. Worry about your own damn life, and leave other people to worry about their own.

Love and Light, my friends, Catie

https://www.paypal.me/CatherineBoudreau

1) Content found online. Original contributing source unknown.

A Tale of Two Stores

Well, maybe three. I’m usually pretty good about letting you know when things get a little out of hand or someone treats me in a negative fashion. To be honest, I have a lot of good people come into the store, and most people I come in contact with in the world are good people who just want to live and let live. So, I’d like to start off with a nice, little positive story.

On Thursday, at work, I had a customer come in and ask for some help with a rather unusual project. He asked me if I knew a lot about plumbing. I responded by saying that I knew a lot about a bunch of stupid things. But I was an expert on nothing. I told him that the problem was I never really figured out what I wanted to be when I grow up.

He responded by saying that he went through a similar phase when he was younger and spent a lot of time as a road musician traveling with some bands and playing and having fun. We had an interesting talk about the type of music he played and how long he did that for. When he was done he asked me if I was a musician. I told him I didn’t know if I was a musician or not but are used to play the drums. He asked me if it was local. I told him that it was in north central Massachusetts. So, he asked me what the name of the bands I played in were. So, I started running down the list of different bands I played with and the musicians that were in some of those bands.

Now most of you who know me in person, know me from the time I played in Vast Extreme with Scott, Steve, Andy and Trevor. But, I did manage to play in a few other bands both before and after that time frame. One of those bands happened to be a band called Crucifixion. As soon as I said the name he stopped me and said, “you were a heavy metal band. Right?” I told him we were and he then informed me that he saw us play at the NCO club at Fort Devens.

What a small world. I mean, the band was very short-lived and I think we only played about three or four shows, and this guy from halfway across the country happened to be one of the people who saw this band play in an obscure NCO club in a small army base in Massachusetts. What are the odds?

I might add that in every bit of the conversation, he referred to me as ma’am and in the feminine. He even mentioned that it was rather odd to have a girl drummer in heavy metal band in the 1980s. It was a pleasant conversation.

And now, we finally get to the part about the tale of two stores that you actually clicked the link to read.

On my day off, a friend and I decided to travel up to the Kansas City area to check out some lace fabric that we would need to make a dress for me to wear to a Witch’s Halloween party. We were just shopping fabric so I decided that since I wasn’t going to spend any money, let’s go into Hobby Lobby and see if they have anything that I might be able to look up elsewhere online.

I knew, of course, that Hobby Lobby was a Christian owned company and had been in a lawsuit with an employee who was a transgender woman regarding the use of the ladies room. I followed this case pretty closely and know that they pretty much lost the case but still refused to allow her to use the ladies room and instead converted a janitors closet to a single use restroom for her to use. Eventually, they antagonized and harassed her to the point that it drove her to quit her job because of the aggravation. Good for her for filing the lawsuit. Bad job to Hobby Lobby for being such an arrogant company as to think that they can do whatever they want even after losing a lawsuit in federal court.

Knowing all this, I decided to go into a Hobby Lobby for the first time in my life to see if they had something I liked. From the moment I walked through the door I got nothing but evil eyes and death stares from every one of the employees in the store. As I worked my way to the back looking for the fabric department, I even had a couple of the customers in the store quickly get out of my way like they thought I was the plague or something.

I had turned the wrong way when I got to the back of aisle and upon looking around I found the fabric department and turned and pointed in that direction so my friend could turn around. As we got to the fabric department my friend asked about lace fabric, and because she was with me they were very reluctant to give her any information and they were very short and quick with their answers. Not very Christian like at all in their attitude toward us as human beings. No sooner were we back there that every manager in the building was in the fabric department pretending to act like they were rearranging things and keeping a very close eye on me. I realized at this point that the ladies room was in the corner of the fabric department. They weren’t going to ask me to leave the store but they sure were not going to let me in the ladies room.

I really wanted to go into the ladies room, just so I could see what they would do. But, being an intelligent woman, I know that if they made a big enough deal about it and called the police, I was pretty much in deep doodoo. For one, I was carrying my handgun in my purse. Now, there is Constitutional carry in the state of Missouri, but, if they arrested me even for a misdemeanor because I was carrying a firearm it would’ve turned into a felony. With a felony, I will lose the right to carry my firearm. I certainly didn’t feel lucky at the moment.

The second reason is, if I were to get arrested they would’ve put me in a men’s jail. Even though my ID says female on it, the state of Missouri doesn’t really care about protecting transgender rights. I have absolutely, positively, no rights whatsoever as a transgender woman living in Missouri. I could be fired for being transgender. I can be told they won’t hire me because I’m transgender. I can be denied housing for being transgender. There is absolutely no legal protection in the state of Missouri from being discriminated against because I am transgender. It really sucks.

Now, I don’t mind taking a stand and eventually fighting for my rights in a court of law. My major concern was the fact that they would put me in a men’s prison and I would probably be raped, beaten, and most likely murdered. And to top it all off they probably would’ve told the world I committed suicide. Who needs that, right? I should probably take this moment to tell the world that if I ever get arrested and they say that I committed suicide in prison, it’s a lie. It’s a flat out lie.

So I decided to not make the stand that I really wanted to and my friend and I decided to leave. As we approached the front of the store I very loudly said, “they treat me like this for being transgender. Imagine if they knew I was also a witch.” The two women chatting at the register I passed on my way out both looked at me with wide eyed terror like I was going to call Satan himself down into the store to eat their souls.

***Insert evil cackle here*** I gave them both a nice big smile as I passed by

I would like you to know here, at this particular point of my story, that the friend I was with is a Christian woman who happens to have two PhD’s in clerical studies and is an ordained minister. She was absolutely horrified with the way I was treated in this store and vowed to never go into Hobby Lobby ever again. She said that was the most unchristian like behavior she ever witnessed by a group of people in her life.

Store number two was a completely different story. We went to the Joann Fabrics in Independence, Missouri. This is probably the third or fourth time we have been into this particular store together and we have never had any issues whatsoever while being in there. They have a superior selection of hobby and craft type items to Hobby Lobby and the staff is just so much more friendly and accommodating. I have never once been treated with anything but respect and had anybody ever refer to me in anything but the feminine while shopping at Joann Fabrics.

I really wish I could make as long a rave for Joann Fabrics as I did a rant against Hobby Lobby, but all I can say is how awesome they were at Joann Fabrics and that more people and companies should be as accommodating as they were.

I think the reason why it’s so hard to rave about Joann Fabrics is because it’s a nonevent. You go in there and you’re treated just like everyone else. You’re not a pariah. You’re not the evil spawn of Satan. They realize you’re just a human being and they treat you like any other human being that goes into their store. How hard is that? The answer is; it’s not very hard at all.

So, if you’re looking to go someplace to get some hobby related items, the stores I recommend are Joann Fabrics and Michael’s. (Also a place I have always felt welcomed.) If you have any love or support for anybody who is transgender, please, whatever you do, do not shop at Hobby Lobby.

Thank you in advance for your support.

Peace. Love. Light.

Catie

A Walk in My Shoes: Dreams, Pt 3; The Ugly (Flashback)

Five of them sat around the table. It was a circular table, and they were all drinking fairly heavily. They had all decided to play a game. Billy took the 357 from his pocket, Removed the round to show everyone, then reinserted it. He spun the cylinder and pushed it in and set it down in the middle of the table. He spun it like you would a bottle if you were playing spin the bottle. The barrel point at Tommy.

Tommy picked it up and put it to his head and pulled the trigger

Click

He popped the cylinder out, spun it, pushed it back in, set it down on the table and spun it again. It pointed to Billy.

Billy picked it up, put into his head, and quickly pull the trigger.

Click.

He popped the cylinder out, spun it, pushed it back in, set it back on the table and spun it. This time it pointed to Rod.

Rod hesitated before picking up the revolver. He went pale and hesitated even longer before putting the gun to his head.

“Do it, or leave the table.” Billy said abruptly.

Rod slowly put the gun to his head, going to even paler, hesitated a moment longer and pulled the trigger.

Click.

With shaking hands he popped out the cylinder, spun it, pushed it back in, set it on the table and spun it. Billy, again.

He swiftly reached out and picked up the gun, put into his head and pulled the trigger.

Click.

He repeated the procedure leaving barrel pointing at Tommy, again.

Tommy picked up the gun and in a quick singular motion put it to his head and pulled the trigger.

He repeated the procedure that had the barrel once again at Rod.

Rod went even paler than he had the previous time, suddenly got up and ran to the bathroom.

“Fucking pussy,” Billy was getting angry. “Spin it again, T.”

Retching noises came from the bathroom as Tommy reached out to spun the gun again. It pointed to Nate.

Nate swallowed hard and looked at each of the boys remaining at the table.

“Do it, or go join pussy boy in the bathroom.” Billy shouted. “You all wanted to play, and now you’re all fucking pussying out!”

Nate slowly reached out for the revolver, a trickle of sweat running down his forehead, slowly eased it up to his head, and pulled the trigger.

Click.

“I don’t think we should do this, any more. Call me what you want. I don’t want to die.” Nate got up and started to go toward the bathroom.

“You’re right,” Billy sad, realizing he may have been pushing them to do something they didn’t really want to. “I don’t think you’re pussies. Sorry if I was an ass.”

“Thank god. I don’t think I could have done it if it had pointed to me.” Daryl had been the only one who had not been chosen by fate to put the gun to his head.

Billy decided he was going to try to defuse the situation. “I have a confession to make. Remember when I took the bullet out to show you, and I dropped it? Well, I switched it for a blank. No one could have died.”

“Fuck, Billy!” They all some what chorused.

“So, what did it feel like?” Daryl asked as he reached over and picked up the gun that was still on the table. He laughed as he put it up to his head.

“No! Don…”

BANG!

*****************************************************************

Bekka sat up on her elbows, dripping with sweat. The whole bed was soaked. She could smell the sulfur from the round and feel the blood and brain matter that got on her when gun went off. It hadn’t really been a blank. She was just trying to make the others feel better, and Daryl went and blew his brains out because he believed the gun was empty.

Fuck me!

She was shaking uncontrollably and and it felt like it was 30 below zero in the bedroom. She slid out of bed and went into the Master Bath and pulled the towel off from over the shower and dried herself off. She was calming down, so she was warming up a bit, but she still slipped a comfy dress she wore around the house over her head to help with the cold feeling.

She was alone in the house because her wife was off visiting her kids, but she still felt she needed to have something on to go downstairs, even though she loved being naked. There were no drugs in the house so she would have to rely on the Kraken to numb the pain.

Where did that come from. Haven’t had those kind of memories in years.

She filled the glass with ice and poured as much rum in that fucker as would go and sucked in down. And went over and flicked the TV on. Must be something on to make me forget, again

********************************************************************************

No one else was in the house at the time. After a short panic, Billy told the others run as fast as they could to get away and never look back. He told them if anyone asked about the gun, Daryl had shown it to them last week.

He now sat there at the table staring at what was left of Daryl. For some reason he couldn’t get up. His head was a mess and there were pieces of his brain and blood splattered all over the wall where the bullet came out the other side.

That was his bullet. It was him who should have been sitting dead right now. Why can’t I die! WHY!

He didn’t hear Daryl’s parents come in and had no clue of what was going on around him until he heard his mother screaming somewhere near him. It was like a bad dream, as if this wasn’t really happening. He just sat there in shock until it hit him that there was a room full of people around him. Police and EMT’s.

Daryl was no longer within in view and a police officer was speaking to him. He couldn’t make out what he was saying and kept staring at where Daryl had been. “He just put it to his head and pulled the trigger. I tried to stop him, but I was too late.” The tears came in full force then and he cried like the little girl he really was.

“Did you know he wanted tinkill himself?”

*******************************************************************************

She startled awake again. Shivering. Crying. Why am I remembering this, now?

===The image used for this blog was edited by my daughter, Skyy, with images I found online through google. She gave me exactly what I asked for. Thank you, Skyy. ===

A Walk in My Shoes: Dreams, Pt 2; The Bad

As she walked down the street people were pointing at her and laughing. She couldn’t understand why. Great care had been taken to ensure everything was in its place. Her hair had been straightened with a flat iron. Her makeup was meticulously done. Her skirt and blouse fit the occasion. Why were they laughing?

There was a public restroom up ahead. She decided to go in and check herself in the mirror. As she started to go in, a police officer stepped in front of her.

“Sir. You can’t go in there.”

“I need to use the facilities.” She said with a voice too deep to be hers.

“Nice try, sir. The men’s room is behind you.”

She decided at that moment that the best thing to do would be to go home. She turned and tried to hurry back to where she had parked her car. As she was walking rapidly she became unsteady in her heels and stumbled then fell to the ground. She slid a little and tore her nylons and her skirt came up enough to reveal the bump that was her penis to the world.

There were mortified gasps and things started to get uglier than they already were. Names were called out such as faggot, sheman, and freak, and many people yelled out that she was going to Hell.

Tears welled up and her vision became blurry and as she tried to get up someone pushed her back down. She had become a caged animal on display and the onlookers were not about to let her leave until they were done with her.

Two big men held her pinned in place while a woman took out a pair a scissors and cut off all her hair. She tried to scream, but nothing came out. The woman then took out some lipstick and wrote something on her forehead.

Everyone pointed and laughed and said, “freak.”

The crowd proceeded to tear off her clothes while they kicked and punched her and tore the earrings out of her ears. She lay there beaten and bloody, sobbing. She was close to losing consciousness when she felt some pressure on her penis. Then it was gone and something was being shoved in her mouth.

There was a flash…..

************************************************************************************

She awoke with a start and sat up quickly. The bed was soaked with the sweat coming from every pore in her body.

Tears rolled done her face. “What the ff…..”

She got up and went out the the living room where she turned on the TV, wrapped herself up in a blanket, and laid on the couch hoping to forget the nightmare.

A Walk in My Shoes: Dreams; Pt 1, The Good

Her hair flowed in the wind as the skirt on the dress she wore caressed her legs. No matter how many times she experienced it, she never got tired of the way way the fabric of her skirts felt on her freshly shaved legs. It was pure ecstasy. She had chosen this dress this morning for the way it moved on her and felt against her skin. The green bohemian style also blended in well with the forest around her.

Today, she had decided to bring her leather satchel and several jars so she could gather any flora that would be useful in her craft. A Witch could never have too many herbs, spices, roots or any other such thing as the Goddess deemed fit to gift to the world. She also brought her camera, so she might get a good scenic picture, or, perhaps, a nice shot of some of the local fauna.

She had visited the area briefly twelve years prior to moving here, but had never explored the woods or taken part in any outdoor activities until actually moving here. She loved the way the purple and yellow played so well together wherever she would go.

Being in the woods, to her, was like the purest form of worship she could imagine. God and Goddess blessed her so often, and she always felt so very special when she was in the woods. She had lived at the sea for so long, and stood barefoot in the ocean with the sand between her toes and the salty air blowing around her, cleansing the soul. Yet, she never felt as good as when she walked through the woods.

She was fortunate in life as far as her ability to travel the country and see so much of it. She grew up in New England and lived in Florida for 28 years before moving here. She had been to Southern California, the North West, across the Plains, throughout the South East, Texas, the South West and even brief trips to Canada. The sceneries she saw were breathtakingly awesome. And, the animals?

Animals seemed to just come to her. She had pet deer and buffalo in the wild. Held squirrels, chipmunks, raccoons and opossums. Played with bobcats, foxes and coyotes. She once sat within feet of a pack of wolves in the White Mountains of Arizona. She watched a pair of beavers build a dam and handed one of them a piece of wood that they added to the structure.

In captivity, she played with a baby African Lion, a young white tiger, a Siberian/Bengal tiger, a cougar, a black bear, a brown bear, a grey wolf and a Golden Eagle.

Nature was her religion. If you had to have a religion, nature was the way to go. No rules. No obligations. Just be true to yourself and honor the Earth. She walked a solitary path and practiced in an eclectic way. When people asked her to put a name to it, she would tell them she is a Solitary, Eclectic, Gray Witch, drawn to Fire.

She loved the Spring most of all. The energy coming from all the new growth as it was reborn into the world, and the vibrations that accompanied that energy, was miraculous and fulfilling. It was like innocence reborn. A rebuilding of faith in all that surrounds you. The air is crisp and clean. The Sun is warm on your skin without feeling hot. And, life begins anew.

It is a time when you hear the chatter of the animals once again, and the rustling of leaves as parents teach their young to forage for their meals. The songs of spring fill the air and are so calming and soothing to witness.

As she was gathering some wild lettuce to add to the mushrooms she had already stowed in her satchel, she caught some movement from the corner of her eye. She turned to see a doe grazing at the edge of the clearing with her fawn close by frolicking in the grass. She sat as still as she could so she wouldn’t spook them if they didn’t know she was there and watched them. She was contemplating trying to get a picture, because she didn’t want the sound of the shutter to scare them off, when she sensed a presence behind her. Turning slowly, she lost her breath at the sight of the ten point buck that stood there watching her watch his family. She nodded to him and lowered her head to let him know she was no threat. He acknowledged her gesture by slightly nodding back to her and turning back to watch the fawn play.

After what seemed like too short a time, the buck grunted and walked across to the doe and then the family of deer disappeared back into the forest.

Rebecca rose to her feet and smiled at no one in particular as she glanced around the glen she had spent so much time in since moving here. It was magical here. The Spirits gathered here to laugh and play. And, to teach. She had reclaimed the sacred fire here. She had enjoyed the piece and solitude of the trees here. She was gathering much needed healing herbs here. She felt more at home in this glen than she ever felt anywhere else she had been.

As she smiled to herself once again, she turned to return to her home. It was her intention to grow in her true form here, and gain all the wisdom the glen had to offer.

* * * *

When Billy woke up, he was in a state of disorientation. It took him a while to remember he wasn’t a girl. It was then the tears started flowing.

A Walk in My Shoes: Life, Pt 3 (Betrayal)

“The saddest thing about betrayal, is it never comes from your enemies.” — Unknown

He decided to just tell Kensy that the IRS seized the company, and not any of the other stuff. What she didn’t know wouldn’t bother her. She probably wouldn’t believe him anyway, so, why bother?

The next two years was spent working for her father, during which time, loyalty was questioned, trust was lost, a third child was born. Alex.

It was questioned whether or not Alex was Billy’s child. It was way too soon after Kensy asked if he wanted to have another child that she told him she was pregnant. They hadn’t had sex in too long a time for the child to be his. Proof would later come that Alex was his child, but the damage was done and the trust lost.

It had been decided to sell the house and move to Florida to be closer to her father, who had sold his business and moved there sometime before. Work was hard to come by, so Billy agreed and the chaos began.

Selling the house proved to be more difficult than anticipated. It was an FmHA loan and the government, in its infinite wisdom, dictated what the house could sell for and profitable equity was lost almost making it not worth selling. Billy experienced heartburn for the first time, the stress was so bad. He also suffered what he would later discover was a Crohn’s flare, making life very uncomfortable. Tension was high, but in order to try to save the marriage, it was necessary to go through with everything.

The drive down to Florida, which occurred over Labor Day weekend, was, thankfully, broken up by stopping at his sisters place in Virginia. Her and her husband and family did a great job of relieving some of the stress. Great people. This was a very good thing considering driving 1300+ miles with three kids all under four and a cranky wife while towing a trailer that was technically too big for the van doing the towing was going to drive him absolutely bat shit crazy, otherwise.

A mobile home was purchased without being seen, but would not be available to move in to for about thirty days, which meant staying with her father and sleeping on the couch, stacking their belongings in the new place with the old occupants still in it and trusting they wouldn’t go through their things or steal anything, and stressing out further with all the peripheral bullshit.

He had issues with people about things that were left behind because there was no more room to bring them. He even found it necessary to sell his drum set. He wept about this in his sleep for weeks. He found he lost his temper a lot easier and, of course, was made out to be the villain whenever there was an argument.

Work was not what he expected. He had traveled all that way with the belief there was a job waiting for him. There was not. To be fair, after searching for work for a week or two, a job was offered to him by his father-in-laws employer. Washing boats. Another menial vocation. He decided to just do this job the best he could and found that he couldn’t understand why people took so long to perform these duties. He often completed what was considered a weeks worth of work in two or three days. (He still held the record for most billable hours in a two week pay period.)

He worked long days and was often gone from before sunrise to after sunset. So, it was always good to be home on the weekends and spend some time with the kids. It was for his kids, after all, that he continued to put himself through all the bullshit he endured on a daily basis. Playing with his kids was the only thing in life that even remotely gave him any joy or pleasure. The trick, on theses weekends was avoiding the arguments with Kensy.

Money was very tight. So tight that it was difficult to make it last for the two weeks between paychecks. He had gone from buying lunch at work, to bringing lunch, to just not eating at all because the kids were more important. One day, Kensy informed him she was going to get some Quick so she could have chocolate milk and he snapped. All the rage and stress that had been bottled up inside him came pouring out directed in a fine point right at Kensy. Everything that had ever bothered him about the “marriage’ over the past five years came out that day. What pissed him off even more is the fact that she just sat there all calm and didn’t react to his anger at all. He picked up a baby blanket and threw it at her and stormed out. (She would later tell people that he hit her that day, but he knows he did not.)

************************************************************************************************************************

It had rained off an on for most of the day and the boat that was scheduled to be washed that afternoon had never left the dock, so they canceled. This was the first time Billy had gotten out of work while the sun was still up since he started this God forsaken job. He looked forward to a nice relaxing evening at home with the kids watching cartoons or playing video games.

When he walked into the living room, one of the neighborhood teenagers was there on the couch and the kids were watching TV. He didn’t think much of it at first because quite a few of the kids often hung out there to get away from their parents. He was obviously stoned. When he was told Kensy wasn’t there, he began to get angry. He walked down the hall and slipped his shirt off in preparation for a nice shower.

His belt was half unbuckled when he opened the door to his bedroom. He couldn’t move. His stomach crawled. Anger rose in him to the point of seeing white. A little more than six months after turning his life upside down, he comes home from work early to find Kensy in bed, his bed, with the next door neighbor.

A Walk in My Shoes: Dysphoria, Pt 1

Billy walked along the train track the same as he always did. It was the most direct path from his parents house to downtown Bommer. It was dark and it was snowing heavy enough to obscure the tracks. There were large drifts on either side from the last time a train had passed. About the only passable path was the tracks themselves so he concentrated on where he was placing each foot instead of up the line. He tried his best to ignore the train coming at him from up ahead.

There was no adrenaline rush or need for urgency because he honestly didn’t care if he lived or died. If he made it, great. If he didn’t, no one would miss him in this small, piss-assed, back-water town in north central Massachusetts. Well, maybe his parents. Possibly his siblings. But, no one else would even notice he wasn’t around any more.

Today was his eighteenth birthday and he was on his way to Traxx, a bar that was, ironically, just off the tracks, downtown, to see if he could play pool good enough to hustle a couple of drinks. Maybe even make enough money to score some coke or mescaline. Anything to kill the emotional train wreck crashing constantly in his mind. Maybe it was a fitting end to get killed by a train on his birthday.

He glanced at his watch. It was 4:09. He was born at 4:09. Perfect. He closed his eyes as the train swept by him just as he stepped off the trestle and over the side of the bridge that crossed the river.

It was close. Most people would have pissed or shit themselves it was so close. Billy was just annoyed he now had to wait for the train to pass. He contemplated 409. It always showed up when life seemed to be fucking him over, but, some how, everything always seemed to work out in the end. He even really liked the song by The Beach Boys. Some day he would have to look into reoccurring numbers and if they meant anything.

As the train seemed to be taking forever to pass, he hugged himself against the cold and started to drift off and found himself contemplating his life to this point. He thought he was a girl when he was very little and it wasn’t until his mother off-handedly referred to him as her son when he was around three that he found out he wasn’t. If he was a boy, then why did he want his hair long? Why did he prefer to play with the girls? Why did he wish he could wear the pretty dresses they wore? Why? Why? WHY!!?

As the last car passed, he got up and tried as best as he could to knock the snow off himself so he didn’t get soaking wet when he thawed out at the bar. Still contemplating his life, he continued his trek towards the possible drugs and alcohol that awaited him. Billy chuckled in irony as he remembered puberty. Brain function of a girl with all the working and very functional body parts of a boy. The cruelest joke from a so-called God who is supposed to love us was a very well endowed, functional body part of a boy.

There was absolutely no way in hell that any boy who was well endowed would brag about how big their penis was. Anybody who bragged about having a large penis definitely didn’t have one. These things were constantly in the way and very uncomfortable to have. He always had to wear pants that were too big for him and baggy T-shirts so when “Mr. Hyde” decided to make an appearance he didn’t have to worry about the damn thing sticking out of his pants for everyone to see.

And, talk about insane confusion? Why, if he was a girl, did he enjoy using the damn thing the way a boy does with girls? And, why could he have multiple orgasms like he heard girls could but boys don’t? For that matter, why was he attracted to girls and had no desire whatsoever to be with a boy?

WHY!!?

Finally making it to his destination, he stepped through the door, soaking wet, with just one goal. Get so fucked up he could just stop thinking. It was always better that way.

As he walked across the room, he nodded to those who said hi as he passed and walked up to the bar. He dropped a dollar on the bar. “Coke.”

The bartender nodded and pushed a large cup over to him. “Those guys have had enough ta drink, ya shouldn’t have any problems.”

Billy took a sip from his Coke and smiled at the Dex. “Just the way I like it.” With lots of rum, he thought to himself as he turned and walked over and set his quarters on the pool table.

The trick to making money shooting pool at a bar, is to lose the first couple of games making it as close as you can. Then, win one and lose again. Then, start winning more than you lose and always lose the last game. Billy played this perfectly and got well sloshed before he left the bar with a pocket full of money.

The next question at hand was; did he want cocaine or mescaline? Definitely mescaline. He crossed the street after leaving Traxx and went right, past the Y, and then right again, which took him past the Police Station, then left and past the factory, then up the hill toward the lake. There was always someone there willing to part with drugs for cold hard cash.

He would not be disappointed to find several someone’s, because that meant he could get it cheaper, which, in turn, meant more. More meant he probably wouldn’t have to make the trek again tomorrow.

Note to self: Get the fucking car fixed so he didn’t have to walk everywhere.

* * * *

The phone woke him up from a dead sleep. The incessant ringer took several tries to get his attention before he answered it. A fellow musician needed some help writing a song. He had a great melody, but couldn’t find any words that deserved to accompany it. Billy agreed to help and Rick would be by in about an hour to work on it. There was a studio in the cellar and they could work there undisturbed as long as they needed.

Billy had no idea how he got home last night. Let alone how he got naked and into bed. The good news was he never had any type of hangover. Ever. Well, once. A little. The bad news was he didn’t think a shower would wake him up enough to function properly for writing. Should have gotten some coke last night for a little pick me up this morning. Maybe his mother had some diet pills that might work.

As he dragged his happy ass out of bed, routine kicked in and he reached under the bed, between the mattress and box spring, and pulled out the .357. He popped the cylinder out, verified there was a single hollow point round in it, spun it and pushed it back in. Then, he put it to his head and pulled the trigger.