A few side notes.

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On the abuse I knew as a child, I have had time to review this as well. I understand, fully, what that was about and why and how it came to be. Whether I had had a father the whole time, or as it was mostly a mother, the same thing would have occurred and it might well have been worse. With understanding coming from the sources my mother had, there were few options open to her. Little she said could alter who and what I was. And yet the world demanded she check any such notions in me, a confused and strong willed child. She could not have known the power of such notions, nor how tormented I was because of the two pulls, that of being what I thought I should be completely naturally, and being what my flesh, society, and finally she demanded that I be.

Her words and weapons were meant to hurt but not harm, to craft rather than destroy. She did what she may that I might be saved from even harsher treatment at the hands of therapists, adults, and more my peers. A different creature leads a hard life among it's own, and harder still on it's own. This is the basic truth. It is a lie to tell children being gay, transsexual, lesbian, bi-sexual, or anything like these is good and is simple and natural. That is a lie. It is a hard, desperate, scorned, beset life. Only those who have no choice to their way of thinking lead that life, and they often hate others. The hate seems to stem from both self-hate and the knowledge of difference. It comes from the price paid to be what they are. It even demands a certain political and religious view so narrow and misguided it escapes reason. And to this end, my mother did only what she could and felt called to do.

As well, with the molestation, I think that was very much along those lines. Showing me the fruits of women was meant as a corrective, perhaps coercive, method of keeping me straight and in line. It was not meant to mar me. And, though it did harm me, anything that does not quite work which needs tending may easily be marked by the effort. There was no intent to harm, only to correct.

I am sure some see these statements as an affliction themselves. But too much of the modern world has forsworn corrective measures, and at every level. I am not a victim of these things, merely a product. The corrective measures, along with my natural instincts toward the family, a newly and strongly found Christian viewpoint, and some logical and emotional inventory of the situation has lead me to grow up and finally be the man I was meant to be.

So pity for me or anger at them is sort of lost on me. They had no other tools, psychology was obviously a flop, what was there left for them? One cannot simply go into a mind and change it. Like a broken leg, a firm painful working must be done to create alignment and then a constricting object must be placed upon the wounded limb in order that it maintain that alignment while healing takes place. So it is with the mind. It saw me clear of harm or death until I was able to assess, clear and free of outside influences or dangers. And, in the end, I think it did work.

For those who choose to continue in such, what I consider, a vain attempt at what is not and cannot be real, I hold no disdain. That is the path their feet have been lead to follow. I will warn that it is a dark, harsh, unforgiving world into which they are entering, but if they must they must. To any who would decry them, spit upon them, or reject them whole cloth, I merely offer the stone Christ offered those who were set upon stoning the adulterer. What He wrote in sand, I send through the Holy Spirit to write in your hearts. Do not just drop your stones and walk away shamed, drop your stones and walk away uplifted. For, you too have been saved. This is my final on that. If you consider these the least among you, as you might rightly or wrongly, what you do unto the least of these, you do also unto Me.

And so it is. I am where and what I am. I know more about women, and men, than I would have ever hoped. Yet I would not change one iota of that path, the thorns that cut nor the roses I have seen and smelled. I think God is very happy with His son, His child, me, who has walked through earth, air, fire, and water to come to be as I am. And, thankfully. I pass any grace I have on to Him, but I leave little flower pedals of it upon which my mother, too, may step.