They say confession is good for the soul, but bad for the reputation, so I might as well find out if they're right by making a confession of my own.

There are bits of my mind that scare the heck out of me.

Sometimes it feels like I may not be alone in my head, and somewhere in the boatload of darkness inside me there is something, or someone else.

And that something or someone isnt a nice critter in any way, shape or form.

(just going to continue right from last entry)

This is partially an FYI, partially a request for help.

Bill and I (and our Chocolate Lab Penny) recently had to re-locate to a local hotel.

The reason, as you probably suspect, is that "Black Mold" was found in our home.

Much of our furniture and other things are going to be tossed out in the process of cleaning the house.

This process includes tearing up all the carpets, and scrubbing all the walls, floors, and ceiling with bleach to make sure it's ALL GONE.

Reading Amy's latest story has given me an idea. Most of you know my history, but just imagine what if the doctor who abused me instead helped me? What might have happened? I'm going to noodle that and see where it goes ....

First -- the diary is very autobiographical. My mother ruled the roost with an iron hand and used terror to control me. I was subject to bullying not only at home but from her. She also bullied my father. He was largely absent from my day to day life because he was working as well as attending night school 3 nights a week to get his MBA. He never knew what went on until I was 25 years old, some 12 years later, and by that time I was so deep in my substance abuse that it didn't matter.

Well, today I have to deal with the insurance company, and to say I'm not looking forward to it is an understatement. This is like going to the principal's office as a kid, only a thousand times worse, because if I walk out of there without coverage I will lose my job, hurt my family, and generally make my life suck for the foreseeable future.

I'm scared, which always brings out the PTSD, so I'm having the shakes so bad its hard to even type.

I have two cats. They are both tabby cats with bushy tails that like to collect things likes stickers and twigs and maybe even small gnomes that aren't fast enough to get away. I got these cats shortly after I got my house because I didn't want to be alone and I knew if I fed them that they would love me unconditionally (on the condition I feed them, so maybe not so unconditionally).

Hello my lovelies:

I haven't been spending much time on here lately and expect to be here considerably less in the future. It is not that I have become a snob, or that I am depressed, but am just too busy to breathe any more, and I love what I am doing.

In truth, aside from the sadness of my losses once in a while, these are the happiest days of my life and I am pretty glad that I quit sucking on gun barrels.

Many, many years ago, I accidentally slammed a car door on my brother's fingers. Afterward, I had an almost PTSD reaction to the event - I had nightmares about it, had it replay over and over again in my mind, and to this day can get a little leery about closing a car door when I have any passengers.

The point of me sharing this little story is that I seem sort of primed for trauma. And if a minor event like that can set me off, you can just imagine what's going on in my head right now.

Well, I've managed to screw my life up for the last time. I was driving home from work today and hit another car, doing serious damage to both vehicles. To make matters worse, I've been having troubles with payments on my car insurance, so I'm not sure I'm covered at the moment.

This just goes to show that it makes no difference if I'm Todd or Dorothy, I'm still a fuck up, and nothing will ever change that. So I'm going to throw everything away associated with Dorothy, and quit living in fantasy land.

Byes.

I'll start by saying I may have drawn the wrong conclusion here but it makes sense to me.

I was laying in the bath scrubbing my feet amused at how events completely unrelated to me being TG gave me a girl foot and a guy foot(yes I gave my feet genders!). I wear a size 6w (comfortable fit)and a size 9w(a bit on the tight side) U.S. sizes(yes, I buy 2 pairs of shoes every time) there is supposed to be something I can stick in the end of a bigger shoe for my girl foot but hell will freeze over before I make either of my feet look bigger then they are.

That's what my daughter said to me tonight. She even added "Even if you become a girl, you'll still be a great dad."

Kids, huh?

Well, yesterday was a bit of a mixed day. First, the good - I was pain-free, and that's a very good thing. Second, the bad. I had a nasty little flashback at work, so bad I felt like I couldnt breathe properly, and I was stuttering. Fortunately it didnt last too long, so I didnt miss any of my work. Last, the I-dont-know-what-to-think - I had a bit of an argument with my ex last night, and in the process learned that she understands perfectly what I'm doing, and thinks I'm crazy, but she shows no signs of keeping Sam from me.

Make of this what you will.

The Family Girl Blogs (aka "The New Working Girl Blogs") Blog #45:  Reunited with my Sweater, or Whatinheck's Wrong with the Weather!?! To see all of Bobbie's Family Girl Blogs, click on this link: http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/book/28818/family-girl-blogs

Moe and I are back home and found our house to have been meticulously cleaned as only my ma is capable of.   Kitchen, living room, bathrooms all spic n span, and bed clothes nice n crisp n clean (I know ma did the wash coz the sheets smell faintly of Huggies), front n back yards clean and well raked (probably Dad) and a note on the living room table saying that two of the microwavable "Friends" mugs got broken (Aha! That's my sister!).

Anyway, the at-home feeling came back slowly and we settled in.   But what didn't come back was how the weather felt.   Egads, it's cold!!

So Moe n I broke out a couple of our long-unused sweaters, and made plans to pick a nice n wooly sweater ensemble for work the following day.   But why was it so friggin cold all of a sudden?   I checked the thermometer. It was a nice eighty degrees. Eh?

Well, my weekend has been pretty full so far. First, on Saturday morning at work, I pulled my knee and spent the last hour or so basically doing my job on one leg. Its not hurting now, but its a reminder that one day, and probably sooner than I would like, I'll be either disabled or looking for another job, or both ....

Then Saturday evening I had the dinner for my mom and ex in celebration of Mother's day. Went okay, except having my mom use the male pronoun stung ....

I don't know why I'm still alive anymore, I realized I just don't care anymore on my birthday two weeks ago when my family came down to see me for my birthday and I felt nothing. If I don't get a callback from a therapist by Tuesday evening I think I'm done.

well, today isnt a bad day so far, but I'm feeling a tad grumpy, and I'm not really sure why. Its not one of my black dog days, where I have to fight off feeling like a worthless failure. Its not even one of those days where I feel like a fake, that I will never be a "real" woman no matter what I do. Its just a blech day, and I guess those happen sometimes.

Ah, well.

Have you ever had one of those dreams, where you had everything you ever wanted and were truly happy. I had one of those last night, maybe it brought on by pain medication that I took before bed who knows but when I woke up I felt cheated and couldn't help but be upset, I tried going back to bed hoping that it would continue but that rarely happens.

I have never really been truly happy, most of the time I just try to get by and not think about the fact that I should have never been born this way. I have known all of my life that I was different at least inside, I was different.

Every day, I'm faced with choices. Some are trivial, some could be life-altering. Sometimes, I can see the right choice without much problem, and others I really struggle with trying to figure out what to do.

One choice I'm dealing with right now has to do with my plans for mother's day. See, my ex, my mom, my daughter, and my brother and sister-in-law are going to a restaurant, and of course I'm going to.

But the question I've been dealing with is this: What the heck do I wear?

I had my session with my rape councilor today, and among other things we talked about boundaries. Its something I struggle with, tending to go back into passive-aggressive rather than state my needs and wants clearly.

But, bit by bit, I'm getting stronger and more confident, and I hope to continue my growth in this area.

Where Angels fear to tread or my life is a Monty Python skit.

To all who took the time to read my first blog Thanks, I have just decided to move from my old Novawoman99 ID to a newer more up dated one suggested by a dear friend and writer on this board so now I will Be Drum roll cymbals crash. Misha Nova. Its about time the Novawoman99 name was created to describe my self when I had just gained enough momentum to go Full time at work and therefor the world.

Finally feeling better, got blasted with flu which was pretty grim. Luckily I didn't waste my time entirely, my journal is full of interesting ideas for my stories which I am already working on.

I'm pretty sure most of you have seen the image - the person faced with a choice with an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, trying to decide which way to go.

Well, I have at least one devil on my shoulder, whose name is Worthlessness, and today he was very active, listing all my failures, ready to convince me I am only a source of grief to those who dare come close to me. It got to the point where I was seriously trying to figure out if ending my life would be a net gain for the people around me or not.