Just a bit of explanation. First, I edited the coda to include the girl's name to make it less vague; my apologies for that. Second? The story apart from the coda is autobiographical in that I had a boy crush on Davy Jones; something that I had not remembered until I had a flashback yesterday triggered by Karen's note about his death - entirely a good thing, by the way! The story reflects some of the memories (sans dressing) about how confused and scared and ashamed I felt. Very emotional, I suppose, but entirely true for more than just me, I'm quite sure.

As you've perhaps read, my life in and out of gender issues has been a bit stormy. My story, The Invitation, chronicles some of the mayhem that existed in my family, including the huge reason for why I never took any steps toward being Andrea when I was younger. Another part of that mayhem was that both of my parents were alcoholics and they lived as combatants in a life long truce that kept them separate in the same house. I won't chronicle the abuse here other than to say that both were culpable in their own separate ways for abusing me physically and sexually. My father was probably molested when he spent his early grammar school years at Boystown in Omaha; and he passed on what he had received to both my sister and me - I have yet to have my brothers acknowledge anything in this regard.

My mother was abused as a child and both my therapist and my professional friends here believe her abuse toward was because of her lack of boundaries and her inability to help me appropriately because of what had been done to her. The mom in the story is very much like my mother, even to the 'Mommy loves you very much." The last conversation I had with her, chronicled in The Last Christmas, included a long apology to me which, while tender and heartfelt, was lost on me to a great extent because at that time I hadn't yet remembered the sexual abuse. Both my parents are deceased, and I forgave them a long time ago, for my benefit if not for theirs.

So why the blog? Once again, I'd like to encourage any of you who have been abused to seek professional help. While prayer and understanding by caring family and friends helps, it never can take the place of counseling and education to help learn how to heal the trauma, for that is what abuse of any kind is to a child. I know I'm not the only one here who has been hurt in this manner. I truly encourage you to seek out a qualified therapist who specializes in trauma and has been educated in the dynamics of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

I don't mean to preach, but I see the tacit beliefs through fiction here and even in some of the blogs that some folks just don't get this, both for their friends and family members who suffer from the aftermath of trauma, and the women (and men) here who have yet to find help for their hurt. I hope that I haven't been too intrusive in my comments or my story, but it was a story that I felt needed to be told. Thanks for caring! Andrea