Something You'd Never Know

I met this guy online once when I was 19.  We'd been chatting and hell, I thought he was a good guy.  He was sweet, his picture was hot, and we'd been chatting for months before I agreed to meet him....at my house.

I know what you're thinking: "Vic!  NO!!!"  Alas, yes, I did.

This is something that I know is a big no-no now of course but at 19, I was still full of sunshine, daisies and still trying desperately to be a "girl".

So he came over (and I'll never forget his name-Gordon) and before he got there I wisely hid knives underneath all of the cushions in the living room.  Why?  Well, in case he tried to rape me or kill me of course!!!

When he got there I noticed a few things almost immediately.  He was about a whole foot shorter than he appeared in his picture and about twenty years older.  I didn't let that stop me, he'd driven all the way to my house from Orlando.  That's almost an hour.  So I invited him in and we talked.  Slowly I became more and more comfortable, until I finally admitted that I'd hid the knives and then retrieved them all and put them away.

Big mistake.

I returned to the living room and, I kid you not, he attacked me within seconds of me walking back into the room and raped me.  On my mother's gold couch.

It was violent and vicious and I bled all over my mother's couch.  It wasn't the first time I'd been raped, and unfortunately, it wasn't the last time either, but it was the one that I learned the most from.  I learned a lot about that little voice of instinct and hesitation.  As I lay on my mother's couch, shivering and bleeding, watching as he walked to the bathroom and cleaned up, wiping the blood and semen from his groin and chest, I felt such hatred fill me, but I felt a wisdom infuse my body as well.

You see, I realized then that I gave people the power that they exhibited in my life.  I gave them the power to hurt me, the power to heal me, the power to help me, to support and encourage me.

This is something you'd never know about me.  The fact that I'd been raped, that I'd been so stupid to put myself into that situation.  It's not something that I'd planned on sharing.  I was going to share Friday of GRL with you all today, but I had a friend ask me to write a blog post about online relationships and it made me think of this incident, because this is not what I'm going to share with her.

I didn't let that horrible incident or any of the others I had (and I've had LOTS let me tell you!) stop me from forging relationships, stop me from believing in the basic goodness and kindness and decency that everyone has within them.  I would have missed out on so many wonderful relationships if I would have looked at everyone as being a liar, everyone as being a fake, everyone as being a figment of someone's imagination.  I've experienced all that.  I've sent $800 to someone who said that they were about to be homeless or had cancer only to find out that it was a fake.  It didn't stop me from doing it again.  I've met guys who lied about what they looked like.  I've found out that the person I was talking to, wasn't who they said they were, or were in fact characters from a book (imagine my shock to pick up a book and see our conversation within the pages of that book), but NONE of that has ever stopped me from treating the next person as a completely unique individual, because they are.

Not everyone in this world is out to deceive me, to hurt me, to rape me, to attack me, to extort money from me, to lie to me, to use and abuse me.  And I can't look at everyone as if they are.  It makes for paranoia and fear and misery and I don't like to be paranoid, scared or miserable.  I'm not pleasant that way.

So as I prepare to write this blog post about the wonderful people that I've met online.  The ones who befriended me and supported me, the ones who saved my life...twice, the ones who encouraged me and pushed me to become a better me, to live my truth, those are the ones that I'll be writing about.  I'll talk about the things I learned not to do, but more than anything I'll emphasize trust and the bigger picture and I'll definitely talk about hypocrisy, because I'd never ask them to give me something that I'm not willing to give myself.  For every picture requested, there's a picture sent.  For every text message asked for, there's a text message given.  And for every proof of identity that I need, I given one in return.

Because I can't sit around on my high horse judging others for their online personifications when I've spent years pretending to be something that I'm not and I can't begrudge someone for wanting to keep something private when I know that I'm doing the same thing.

So that's something you'd never know about me unless I shared it and I hope as you all go throughout your day (many of you have sent me emails or comments regarding Thorny-I encouraged him to close his blog and his GR account-but thank you for being concerned for me-LOL) to remember that just like you don't see every black person as being a drug dealer or a drug addict or a gang banger or as being on welfare, just as you don't see every Hispanic as being a drug dealer or an illegal or illiterate or only speaking Spanish, just as you don't see every white person as being racist or thinking that they're superior or being rich and snooty, etc.  you shouldn't see every online person as being out to hurt, manipulate, deceive, extort or rape you.

Sometimes you have to have blind faith, sometimes you have to believe even when evidence points to the contrary.  Do you know how many men and women have been incarcerated and executed based on evidence only for it to be discovered later on that they were innocent?  A good lawyer can get someone off with all the evidence piled against them, just as a good lawyer can get someone found guilty with no evidence at all.

Be cautious, but still believe.  You never know what you're missing out on when you're suspicious of everyone.

My Major Flaw

I am a very flawed individual.

You know it, I know it, my parents know it, hell even the government knows it.  I haven't tried to hide it and I have no problem shining a light on those flaws and uncertainties and and my weaknesses.

It's what makes me so approachable and lovable....I think.

Anyway, my major flaw is how unbearably clingy I can be.

I'm serious.

It's like a real sickness.  I'm not like a "You can't spend time with anyone but me," but I definitely have these moments of "Why aren't you talking to me?  Don't you like me anymore?  What did I do wrong?" if a few days go by and I haven't heard from you but I've written you.

The biggest issue is that you'll NEVER know that I'm having these thoughts, these doubts about my importance to you, that you actually like me or want to know me or hang with me or whatever.  I talked to my doctor about it yesterday and he just gets this really serious look on his face and says: "Well Vic (he calls me Vic-*sigh*-it's why I love him), why do YOU think you have these fears, these insecurities and doubts of your worth to others?"

Damn doctor.

That's how they work.  They get you to "fix" yourself.  If I could do that why am I having the government pay you all of this money to do it for me?  LOL.

Anyway, so I answer the doctor with a "Um..probably because of my parents."  Then we get into that whole issue.

I grew up knowing that if I did that one big thing that my parents didn't approve of that I'd be disowned.  So for most of my life I played the part of the perfect daughter while doing all of my dirt on the side.  When I realized that I was getting caught anyway and they were getting all upset over it, I stopped trying to hide most of it and was very outspoken and upfront about it.

Almost all of it.

When I came out I knew that I was going to lose people, I expected my parents to disown me, I hoped that they wouldn't, but I expected it.  I figured a few of my "Christian friends" would stop talking to me.  I hoped that they wouldn't, but I prepared myself for when they did.  I wasn't expecting the whole extreme condemnation, but again, not too much of a shock there.

However, when people who initially supported me then turn around and stop supporting me or stop talking to me or just ignore me completely?  Well, those old insecurities and fears pop back up.

What did I do wrong?  How can I make it better?  Am I being too suffocating?  Too clingy?  Too...whatever.  So then it becomes the whole "Maybe I shouldn't have come out,  maybe I shouldn't be making this decision, this major life choice.  I should just stay female, stay a straight female and be miserable."

Yes, one tap of doubt and the whole house of cards can come tumbling down.

So anyway, I've been like this, my whole life I guess.  I second guess almost everything.  Oh, I'm blunt and I'm honest (brutally so), but I doubt myself the whole time after it's over.  Before every email I bite my lip, chew my thumb nail but send it without making changes, and then I sit and wonder if I can get the email back.

So when I'm writing a book I'm like 10 times worse and then when it comes to a relationship or a friendship? *Rolls eyes* Well, let's just say I get on my OWN nerves.

The thing is, I know I need reassurance, I'm not fishing for compliments because I'm vain or because I have a major pride or arrogance issue, I need reassurance because hell, I was ignored growing up.  I was punished for things that weren't my fault, berated, criticized and insulted by my own father and had my mother play a very passive role in letting it happen.  And I know that at 27 these things shouldn't still be affecting me, but they do.

You see, my father's voice has become my own and I have to actively silence the doubts in my own head about myself.  And no, I don't need to be reassured that I'm like or loved or beautiful or talented everyday, because it loses its sincerity after a while and it becomes extremely draining.  Trust me I know because I do that for others.  But I think that's why I need it.

I play the part of the supporter, the encourager, the uplifter.  It's something I love doing and I do it well.  But you know what?  When I'm supporting someone I stupidly think that they're going to support me in return.  Some of them do.  A lot of them do.  And I learn who I can turn to when I need that boost of confidence, who's going to cheer me on from the sidelines and I go to them for that, but then that paranoia comes back and it's like am I annoying them?  Asking them to encourage me too much?  Am I draining them?

*Sigh*

So most of the time, I don't ask and I don't share and I won't come to you and ask you if I've done something to annoy you or bother you or if you're mad at me, I'll just bow out gracefully.  Maybe not the most mature thing.  Maybe not the best thing to do, but I don't even want to bother you by asking you if I'm bothering you, because won't that just bother you?  (Could you follow that?)

Once in a blue moon I'll ask someone if they're mad at me when I haven't heard from them in a while and usually once I do that I stress so much about it that I have to walk away from my computer or my phone.  It's not a great way to be and yes, it sort of makes me feel crazy (although my doctor assured me that I'm not.  "It's perfectly normal for someone who has been through what you've been through to feel this way").  But, that's just it, I'd have to explain everything I've been through to everyone that I get close to so that they'd understand those moments when I tell them "You probably won't hear from me for like two days, I need to just be by myself" or when I ask "Am I bothering you too much?  Being too smothering?  Too stalkerish/crazy person?"  But usually when they hear what I've been through they can't handle it and they walk away.

It's a damn cache-22.

So, I take to my blog, I tell those who I know suffer through the same insecurities, the same fears, the same paranoias and I let them ease that fear or give me advice: "Just ask him."  "Just text her and see."  "Vee, you're not crazy, you're a caring supportive person, you just want to continue to be that way and if you weren't a caring and supportive person then you wouldn't care about if you were smothering or annoying someone."

*Sigh*

It's a flaw, a major, annoying flaw, that need for reassurance, for someone, anyone to give a damn, to care and then to pretend as if I don't need it.  To ignore my brain and my heart yelling for me to make sure that I haven't crossed a line or to make sure that I'm not being too pushy.  To go on like nothing's wrong and that it doesn't kill me or tear my heart to shreds when an email from me goes unanswered for a week or two but others are being responded to.  When a voicemail from me gets deleted or a call gets ignored from my cell number but you answer someone else's.  And yes, if I were talking to someone else, I'd be all like "Just ask them what's going on.  I'm sure there's an explanation, they wouldn't just stop talking to you or ignoring you, you're an awesome person and they're a total jackass if they don't see that."  But that's me talking to you, giving you truth.

I don't necessarily feel that way about myself.

So I was talking on messenger with Kate and on the phone with Jack and I'm telling them both about this insecurity I'm having and about how I'm so unsure about whether or not to ask or talk to this person and how I really just need to get this whole, this is me, take it or leave it, I'm an insecure, selfless, possessive, protective, loyal, empathetic bitch thing off my chest and Kate tells me to message the person.

Jack tells me to write a blog...and message this person.

So I did both.

So yes, I am insecure, possessive, protective, loyal, empathetic, selfless bitch who will forever be independent and do things for myself but will silently be screaming for reassurance and love and caring and encouragement.

That's just me.

Wow

That's the only thing that I've had in my mind all day.  From 7 o'clock this morning until now, the word "wow" with a negative connotation has been swirling around in my brain all day.

I am a very empathetic person.  I hate for people around me to be hurt, emotionally, physically, not just because I love them or care for them and don't want them to suffer but also for selfish reasons.

I feel nauseous, flush hot like I have a fever and shake.

Call me crazy, call me insane, it doesn't matter, but either way my friends and family either call me because they know that I'll feel their emotional pain (I cry with them, sometimes for them, I get angry on their behalf) or they don't call me for that same reason.

It's the reason that my brother didn't tell me what was going on with him.  Why just last night I found out about EVERYTHING that was being said between him and the mother of his child.  No one told me because I would "overreact" or "just get sick."

I said all that to say this: today has been a day when I swear I feel as though I've been put through the emotional wringer, from a car accident early this morning (very small, minor ding, no one was hurt), to a dear friend feeling emotionally raw, to the identities and realities of people I have come to care about being called into question, I think I've said "Wow" a lot today.

And my problem is that I have the "fix-it" gene and so I want to fix cars, fix relationships, defend people, solve problems of everyone in the world.  But it's just not possible.

The other problem is that these things so affect me that my creative self suffers.  I can't write.  My mind is racing 1,000,000 miles a minute and all I can think about is if everyone is okay and what can I do to help and did I overstep when I said or did this or am I being a pest by asking if everyone's okay and what if I'm getting on everyone's nerves?

Even when I could dance, when moments like this happened, I couldn't dance.  I could barely focus enough to read, I'd sit and watch the television without really understanding anything and I couldn't eat no matter how hungry I got (hey I lost weight at least right?).

And I'm not sharing this to make people feel bad like "Can't tell Vee anything she might have a panic attack," or to make anyone feel guilty because I think it's the mark of a true friend that they care for you so much that they feel what you feel while still being able to tell you what you need to hear.  This may of course be my arrogance that I'm a really good friend of course.  However, I'm sharing this because in light of everything today I was talking with Kate, someone I'm beginning to really consider as a friend, and I told her that I'm completely real about my flaws.

Hell, I've got a whole post that says I'm a selfish, possessive, protective bitch.

You can't get more real than that.

I feel like while the Internet is great for reinventing yourself, almost living a life of fantasy, not everyone is that way.  For me, the fantasy world, the fake me is what I show my family.  I am who they want me to be (for now), but online?  Where I'm forging relationships with people who can't just walk into my room to see if it's real?  I'm MORE honest, I'm truthful, I'm real.

So while none of what happened today is about me (and that's a first-LOL), I just wanted to let you few people know who find me interesting enough to care what I have to say, that what you "read" is what you get.  I am a flawed individual and I'm going to share it with you.  My major flaws and everything.  If you don't like it, you can always unfollow or forget this page ever existed, but for those of you who appreciate it, I thank you.

I know that life's a bitch (and then you die) and I know that I have more days of "Wow" ahead of me...but I'm going to be real with all of you as I go through them.

So all of that to say this, I wanted to write another part of "Inconceivable" today, but I can't.  My brain has shut down.  I'll post tomorrow and be more of my normal, bitchy, happy, morose, confused, self-absorbed self (LOL I know that's not how I usually am but that's me here lately), but today?  I'm feeling the emotional pull of my friends and family and so I'm going to spend the day trying to pull myself out of the emotional mire that I put myself into.

*Hope everyone on the East coast is safe and nothing was too damaged and that no one lost anything really valuable!  {HUGZ}

I'm a Selfish, Possessive, Protective Bitch

I am brutally honest with everyone.  With friends, with family, with complete strangers, but especially with myself.  I have always known that I am protective.  I'm protective of those that I love, those that I care for.  Hell, in high school, I skipped school one day to go and beat my friend Angel's boyfriend's ass because he'd punched Angel and called him "a queer spic."  I'm not sure if I was more angry at the racial slur or the crack at his sexuality (especially because this guy was OBVIOUSLY gay too), but either way I was livid and when Angel showed up at school with a black eye and told us what happened, without thinking I gathered up my boys, we climbed in Justin's car when over to this jerkoff's house and when he answered the door, I beat the ever loving shit out of him.  Don't get me wrong he got a couple of hits on me also, but I was in an abusive relationship at that point so I'd learned how to take a couple of hits (that's a whole 'nother story right there).  Anyway after that everyone called me a "Crazy Ass Bitch" at school.  I was fine with that label, because before that I was either "slut" or "bitch," but atleast with this label people thought twice about messing with my friends or my siblings.

When I got in college I realized how selfish I was.  That selfishness sort of tied into the protective thing, because whatever or whoever I had welcomed into my life, or cared about, or claimed as belonging to me, was mine and I might share with you, but if I did and you abused it, well, my protective instincts flared up and I'd have to go all ape-shit on you.

It wasn't until recently that I realized how possessive I am also.  I don't know how many times in the last few months I've heard the word "MINE!" when thinking about a friend or a family member or one of my kids from the LGBT center group.  My friend.  My sibling.  My kids.  My mother.  My Tweepling (someone that follows me on Twitter) etc.

Anyway, I know you're probably wondering what brought this rant of mine on.  A few things actually.  They switched my VA doctor and that affected the LGBT teen group that I volunteer with because I won't be able to see them as often, which made my heart and mind flared up into "MY kids!" majorly.  I had that horrible day yesterday, and then today I read a post by one of "my" boys that so infuriated me that I honestly had to take my own deep breath.

I've been told by friends that it's because I'm a Scorpio and we wear our hearts on our sleeves, so it doesn't take much for us to fall for someone, to start to care for someone and to become protective over them because of that caring.  My friend Angel says it's just because my heart is so big.  I think it's because of all that I've gone through, seen and experienced.

I've always been the one who took on the plight of "the little people."  Even in high school, while I was being bullied for being black, ugly, skinny, flat-chested, nerdy, and a slut I always hung out with the outcasts and stood up for the people being picked on.  It was so easy for me to open my heart and my life to these people, especially to "the gays", because they were usually the ones who opened their hearts and lives to me.

So, anyway (let me finish this before I go chasing that rabbit down his hole *snicker*), I realized today while I was reading this post that I am a selfish, possessive, protective bitch.  I am of the mindset that you do not hurt my friends, and if you've hurt them in the past then you ask for forgiveness now, and do it quick before I find out about it or you're going to have to deal with me and I fight with precision and skill.  The Army taught me how.

And yes, I know not too many people want someone in their life with that kind of aggression and I can assure you, I am the nicest, sweetest, "most adorable" person 99.9% of the time.  However, when someone I consider a friend, or want to consider a friend, or a brother, or a sister, or one of my kids is hurt, well then 0.01% of the time, I'm out of my wheelchair, or off of my cane and it's like I was never injured in the Army and I'm kicking ass, either physically or verbally.

I told my Marmie about my little epiphany and she just laughed and said, "Oh Vee honey, are you just realizing this?  I knew this when at the age of 5, you beat up some 10 year old boy because he pushed two other little kids down at the park.  And these two kids?  One was 8 and one was 6, both older and bigger than you.  One of them was a boy and honey, neither of them were black.  You just looked at me and said 'Marmie, that boy just did something bad,' then you stomped off over to him, hit him in the stomach and then punched him in the nose, before pushing him to the ground."  I was shocked because I swear I don't remember doing this, I asked her what she did and she said that after she got over her initial shock, I got a "whupping" (which is TOTALLY different from the "spankings" that other kids get.  If you have a black friend ask them to describe the horror of a "whupping"-LOL) for fighting.  Probably why I blocked it out.

But that's me, male, female, man, woman, boy, girl, gay, straight, bisexual, transgendered, cross dresser, hermaphrodite, tri-sexual, bi-curious, atheist, Christian, Jew, Buddhist, Wiccan, Hinduist, Muslim, black, white, hispanic, asian, indian, native american, it doesn't matter to me, I fall for the heart of a person.  Sometimes I can tap into that heart from just a simple "Vee, I read your profile and you seem so cool, I'd love to get to know you better!" or an offhanded "Thank you for your service" or even a deeper "You're worth replying to," but I trust my instincts and my intuition and since I have this "really big heart" that I "wear" on my "sleeve" I open my heart to people quicker, easier than most others and yes, that sets me up to have my heart broken and crushed a lot more often than others as well, but because of that, my heart heals quickly so that the next person can move right on in and once you're in, all I want to do is protect you, take care of you, make you happy and yes, be selfish, possessive and protective as hell over you, but I think it's worth it.

I have bought friends cars, performed weddings and civil ceremonies, played matchmaker, babysat, gone on road trips, helped friends find jobs, apartments, houses, flown all over the country and the world just to comfort them or to share in their joy, to be there when they perform on Broadway for the first time or to help them eat Rocky Road ice cream when they find out that their partner of the last eight years has been cheating on them and gave them AIDS.  I do these things without blinking, without hesitation, because I love and I love hard, fiercely and forever.  And I'm not saying these things to make myself seem like some amazing, superwoman, because I'm not.  I am hopelessly flawed (to quote Jo March from Louisa May Alcott's "Little Women") and I'm bold and blunt about those flaws and I can get to the point where I just take a few days and go off by myself with no word to anyone, just to have some "ME" time, but I am me.

I am a selfish, possessive, protective, loving, giving, understanding, compassionate, funny, talented, trusting, trustworthy, honest, loyal, faithful and caring....bitch.

Thunderstorms

So, while reading a few short stories online, I came across a story about a couple who for different reasons are afraid of storms and their affects. It of course made me think about my own fear of storms, or rather my own sense of foreboding and hesitation over them. Like all fear it is connected to a memory, a bad one.

I was a young woman, a girl really and it was storming outside. I had gone to visit a friend of mine and was spending the night. She'd gone to take a shower and her brother, whom I found incredibly attractive, was home. He'd come into the living room where I'd been watching the Olsen twins in "Double, Double, Toil and Trouble" (yeah, this was a while ago). He'd asked me how long I'd known his sister, if she was my best friend, things like that. He was making small talk, putting me at ease, which didn't take too long. I was a lot more mature than my other friends by the time I was 10. Much of which was due to things I'd experienced earlier in my childhood. I remember that it didn't take long before I was smiling and laughing with him. I'd been raised in a very strict, very correct and upstanding "Christian" household. I put the quotations because while my mother was the embodiment of a true Christian, my father was only the shell of one. But that's neither here nor there.

Because of my upbringing in this staunch Christian household, my parents had pretty much glazed over the whole sex talk thing. I do believe that when I started my monthly cycle at the age of 9, my father took me out for ice cream, told me that now I could get pregnant. That sex was where babies came from and that sex was only for married people. So when my friend's brother asked me to come to his room and then asked me if I wanted to play a game called sex, I was of course, reticent, about the whole thing.

"My mommy and daddy said that sex is only for married people and that that's where babies come from." I'd told him with sincerity and innocence, completely trusting.

"Oh no, they got it wrong. Making love is for married people. And babies come from inside of the mommy's belly. But you can't get a baby from playing sex and anyone can play it," he'd responded, sounding so sure, so certain, so knowledgeable and HELPFUL that I believed him almost instantly.

Well, anyone can deduce what happened between me, a 10 year old girl, a P.K. (Preacher's Kid) and this 16 year old "man". After getting me to take off my clothes and lay down on the bed, after hurting me, after ignoring my please and cries for him to stop, after he'd finished with me, told me to get dressed and then pushed me out of the room, I was afraid of storms. You see, it had been storming really hard in Meridian, Mississippi that day. Oh I can sleep through some of them, if I fell asleep before the storm started and I've taken the right "painkiller cocktail" I can sleep through almost anything, but if I'm awake when the storm starts, well, I stay awake through the entire thing, my hands slightly shaking, my throat tight, my mind struggling not to remember.

As I read this story, I struggled with my own memories of that night. Then I struggled with memories of the two men that I'd shared that story with and of their two different reactions. I'd shared that story with Christopher, my fiance, shortly after seeing a senior citizen get mowed down by a vehicle in the middle of the street (I still remember that incident with clarity) and with Brandon, someone I still cannot identify even after all this time (was he my boyfriend, my friend? What the hell were we to each other?). And just like the two of them, their reactions were like night and day. Brandon listened to me as I shared with him this painful story, said "Aaww baby, I'm so sorry. C'mere" and pulled me into his arms, rubbing my back as I jumped at every sound of thunder, falling asleep way before I did, forgetting the entire incident in the morning. Whereas Christopher, my knight in shining armor, listened, pulled me roughly into his arms and then demanded the name of the boy who'd raped me. When I refused to give it to him, because really, it had been 11 years by that point, the statute of limitations was up and honestly, I'd gotten past it....for the most part. Realizing that I had no plans to tell him, he'd sat down on the bed and pulled me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me. We sat there for almost fifteen minutes just holding each other. Then he'd laid down on the bed and held me in his arms, then he began to talk to me about our future together. How many children he wanted us to have, the house he wanted us to live in, how he'd be the man behind the woman when I took over the world with my writing, acting, singing, dancing and non profit organizations.

Christopher whispered words of love to me, cherishing me as I relived the painful memory. Then he held me in his arms, singing softly to me (off-key and out of tune) until I fell asleep.

People will always have different reactions to your life story. Everyone has one, everyone has a special sort of "life hell" that they'll have to endure and people around you will respond to it and to you differently. You'll lose people from your life when they're unable to handle it or to understand you or the situation(s) you'll endure. People will enter your life because they see you going through hell and it makes them feel better about themselves and their own lives. Then there are those people, the Christophers, who want to fight on your behalf, who love you, who draw you through the thunderstorms, protecting you, loving you, until the hell, the storm passes or until you find peace.

It's the difference between those people who are temporary dwellers in your life and those who are etched into your life. In a year or so, a few months Brandon will be completely forgotten by me (and not a moment too soon), but Christopher will be remembered by me forever. He, I will never forget, and will never want to forget.

I may have met Brandon after Christopher passed away, but it's Christopher who is freshest on my mind. He is the reason why I only shake a little when I hear a thunderstorm rather than fiercely shaking and crying silently when one hits. I will remember him forever. I will love him forever. And that's just something that you don't ever forget.

Is there something in your life that's tied to a painful memory? How can you tie that thing to something positive? Who is the person in your life who can help? Think about this today.

Have a great weekend all!

His Story

He was born Justin. Half French, half Italian, he was gorgeous. He IS gorgeous, atleast he was the last time I saw him. Now his body is being covered with black sores, his body, usually a hard mass of muscle and physical perfection is losing its definition as he loses weight during this hard time of his life. We met in high school, he was just another addition to my ragtag bunch of friends, all of us different, gay, transgendered, straight, bisexual, Wiccans, Atheists, Christians, Buddhists, Agnostics, Spiritual, Hermaphrodite, Cripple, we were a bunch of people who became friends because of our love for the theater, drama, music, sex, alcohol, and amazingly enough our mutual love for Brad Pitt.
Justin, Ryan, Angel, and I naturally gravitated towards each other. We were far and away the most dramatic and flamboyant of our little makeshift "family" of 15. We were all outcasts, the black sheep, who just happened to be the most popular people around. All for different reasons. Angel, the gorgeous Puerto Rican boy who women desperately wanted to turn straight and for whom men were willing to turn gay, was always known as being the life of the party, with his flair for fashion, he was Lady Gaga before Gaga existed. I was the chameleon, able to blend in with my surroundings yet staying true to who I really was. I was popular because of my talent, my ability to accomplish whatever I truly set my mind to and because while I wasn't considered "beautiful," guys were still drawn to me. Ryan, the hermaphrodite of our "family" was popular because of how smart he was, his sarcastic wit, and because he was one of the few open-minded, TRULY loving Christians that existed. Justin, however, was a force to be reckoned with. A hulking mass of sexiness, he was popular because he was beautiful, his smile could stop traffic, he was the biggest sweetheart in the world and while girls were often brokenhearted when he told them he was "a flaming homosexual" they were only too happy to consider him a friend.
Justin was free-spirited. Then again, we all were. Spending our days skipping class or daydreaming about moving to Los Angeles and becoming "Super-Celebrities" in our own ways. Justin wanted to be the highest paid porn star in the world and be President of the United States....simultaneously. He dreamed big and often. He was also one of my biggest supporters/fans. Justin could never understand it if a guy didn't find me attractive, or if someone told me "no," or if I got turned down for anything. He always seemed truly shocked. That was Justin's thing though, he believed that all of his friends were the best thing walking and could never believe it when someone disagreed with him.
Justin grew up in a family where his parents were just as free-spirited and flighty as he was. They changed ideals, beliefs, religions, and values about as much as they changed the furniture in their house. Perhaps that attributed to Justin's restless spirit, or perhaps it was always there, regardless, Justin was not one for committing to anything, not a job, not a place, and especially not a relationship. So it was to the shock of all of us when he told us that he had not only been in a committed relationship with the same guy for a year but that he was in love with him. Being the type of friends that we are, we immediately teased and berated him for it before asking to meet the guy in question, Isaac.
Isaac was your typical rich boy, spoiled, entitled, arrogant, thinking he was God's gift to men AND women and I of course had a problem with him dating my best friend, especially when he hit on me one night and told me not to tell (which of course I did). Isaac and Justin's relationship was fraught with violent arguments and fighting, excessive drinking and drug usage, and other addictive behavior. Isaac also cheated on Justin....repeatedly. Justin always took Isaac back, much to the chagrin of the rest of us.
So I wasn't too shocked when Justin called to tell me that Isaac had confessed to having an affair for four months, not even when he told me that Isaac had been cheating on him with a woman, I wouldn't have put it past Isaac to cheat on him with a dog if giiven the right motivation and circumstances (gross I know, but hey, I'm being honest). However, I was shocked when he told me that Isaac had gotten this other woman pregnant and the two of them had decided to keep the baby and to try to be together.
Justin was devastated and rightly so. So, being the family that we are, we all pitched in and helped to fly Justin from New York over to London, England where Angel and James lived with their own house, thinking to help Justin heal over his harsh breakup by indulging in the life of a British man. It seemed to work for a while, Justin began laughing and smiling again, returning to a glimpse of his former, vivacious self.
So I was shocked when he called to inform me that he'd had to go to the doctor....again, to get bloodwork done. Then when he told me why, my heart stopped.
You see, our family started off with 15 in 1997, and now in 2010, we are just 5. Losing the other 10 to drugs, jail, and AIDS. So when Justin told me that he was having another "outbreak" of sores, weakness, and feeling sick, I felt the air in my world being sucked out.
Justin is a big, huge, important part of my life. The results of his test came in and when he called me, sobbing openly on the phone, my heart broke. I am so afraid of losing him and so angry that he didn't get tested sooner, earlier, yearly. He knew his partner was unfaithful and yet chose to remain in denial rather than face reality and get tested. His partner put his life on the line by sleeping around and yet Justin is not completely innocent because he didn't use protection and he didn't get tested.
Now, our days will be filled with nostalgic memories, hospital visits, medicine, attempts at trying to cram as much of Justin's "bucket list" into what remains of his life, trying to be hopeful, and all of us will spend our days with this black cloud looming over our heads as we try not to focus on the fact that we will be losing another family member to this horrible disease soon.
We have a responsibility, not just to ourselves but to our partners, our loved ones, the world and our family to get tested as often as possible, to stay healthy, informed and aware.
Justin hasn't lost his vivaciousness or his flair for life, he's wiser now, he's sicker, but he's still the same guy who tossed me over his shoulder and carried me to my Drama class, one day, our freshman year in college, because he said that "Divas don't walk."
His story has motivated those of us who remain to get tested but to also tell his story so that through his life and impending demise, we might save the lives of others.

By the way, Justin's favorite movie is "Rent" and his favorite part? The restaurant scene where the cast sings "La Vie Boheme." Favorite line: "Actual reality, Act now, FIGHT AIDS!"