When I was born at home, the midwife wasn't trained in the art of reading souls or being psycic and called out the wrong gender.

I don't remember my childhood, and what I do remember is the ending of middle school. Someone once said I was an invading soul and I stole the poor girl who should have had this body. Maybe they were right. Advice From The Shade: Don't invade bodies and kick souls out; it doesn't make for a pretty picture when you fuck it up.

Upon finding that little thing out, I got very depressed, and I became an emo teen. Then I was goth. Then I played the clarinette, and then I got into wicca. Finally, I gave all of that up and played d&d, which I do to this day, well, two saturdays ago.

Now I'm training to become a shaman, and I'm trying to go to college, all the while trying my hardest to save up money so I can transition sexes, and if I can't do that, I'm looking for an awfully high bridge or a very shiny gun.

My best friend, also my babysitter, also my "aunt" was murdered by her husband. She was also my mom's best friend and the first one she had upon moving to Oregon from the other side of the country ( which was over twenty years ago. Ruth died when I was twelve ). I'll tell you the details and how much of a Heartless Bastard her husband is. She was taking a bath and he walked in, aimed a gun at her and pulled the trigger. He then proceeded to sit his fat ass on the toilet seat and watch her bleed to death while she stared at him and pleaded for help. He waited three hours, walked to the nearest bridge, threw the gun over the side, and called 911. He's in jail for 40 years. No death penalty. No parole. I support the death penalty.

I was Christian, and now I'm not, but I am somewhat. I'm still going to hell anyway. And there's not much to my life because I only remember the last eight years of it, but I remember plenty from my other lives.

Thank you, Triss, I think I needed that.

My Life,

Well what I remember as a little kid is living in a big house that had a farm, I lived with “Aunt Becca” who wasn’t actually my blood aunt. I lived there for months off and on with other kids; my parents took me home occasionally and I guess this happened all the way until I was about 8 or 9, as I got older I spent less and less with “Aunt Becca” and more time at home. I don’t remember too much about it.

When I was at home, I spent a lot of time with my Uncle and Aunt who lived next door. I loved them very much, but the police were tracking down my uncle by the time I was 9, and he and my aunt had to go back on the run, or my uncle would have had to go back to prison in the states where he had escaped years before.

From the beginning my parents were not very nice. My dad’s theory on raising kids was that you had to break their will and I still remember hiding in my room listening to him beat my sister knowing it was my turn soon.

Then I met my neighbor, he was my mom’s kid at school, she was a TA and she was in charge of him, I was 8, he was 11 or 12. He used to take me into the bushes and do horrible things to me, things I can’t talk about, but they were sexual in nature, and he’d often force me to do things like strip for him, or he’d torture me, he was a twisted kid. Finally when I was 12 he moved, and the abuse stopped.

I home schooled for grade 8 and grade 9, they were awkward years, it was convenient for my parents because I was at home and I could do chores. Life at home still wasn’t good I still remember getting chased out of the house by my dad having him tell me he was going to “fucking kill me” because I asked why I did more chores than my sister… My Aunt (different aunt from before) actually had to phone because she could hear the screaming from her house. My life involved home and church, church was really my only place I could spend time with people outside of my house, so I became extremely involved with the youth.

Grade 10, I went to high school, I was extremely insecure and shy. I didn’t even talk for the first semester and made no friend I just sat in the back and did my school work and then went straight home to do chores. My second semester was better because I met my future BF.

He was cute and we really like each other, but when I told my parents that we were planning on dating, I wasn’t allowed to because he wasn’t a Christian so I convinced him to come to church. Then my parents said I wasn’t allowed to date till I was 18, however, at 16, after 4 months of unofficially dating I finally decided to stand up to my parents and we started dating.

Having a boyfriend was a huge thing for me. Having been used by that kid back when I was younger made having a relationship extremely hard, it was 6 months before we kissed. And after that, I fell to pieces.

Grade 11 was hell, I got extremely depressed, started cutting, developed bulimia and was anorexic I was also suicidal. I also started suffering from insomnia, for some reason everything in my past was coming back, and I could handle it.

My BF suggested I see the pastor of my church, and I did. I was a mess, and my pastor didn’t help, he instead said things like “So you see yourself as a whore?” or when I phoned his place one night to talk to my bf who was spending the night there he said “So, little baby wants her soother, I’m not going to let you talk to him you need to smarten up and get over this”

Then Christmas of my grade 11 year… The Pastor forced me to let them tell my parents what was going on. My parents didn’t take it well.

My mom told me I was lying and was making it all up for attention, she the kid who did it was incapable and that I was horrible for acussing him of doing such things. She also kept my depression a secret and refused to let me get real help. My dad was just quiet, and didn’t say anything about it.

My Boyfriend was the one who helped me out of that bout of depression, I’d phone him in the middle of the night in tears because I couldn’t handle it.

I got through grade 11 barely, then grade 12 hit.

By the time I was in grade 12 I hadn’t stopped cutting and I still had insomnia, but I had gotten my eating habits back in order. Me and my parents didn’t get a long at all, and my dad constantly threatened to kick me out of the house, my mom was getting worst and worst as well, if I brought home a B on my report card she’d refuse to talk to me. I wasn’t allowed to go out, I wasn’t allowed to visit my boyfriend, I had to go straight home after school and do chores.

At this point I started believing less in the church, I didn’t trust it anymore, by the January of that year I stopped believing.

My parents were getting worst as I got closer to graduating, I dropped a correspondence course and got kicked out of the house, My dad almost knocked me out that time. It was getting to the point where I couldn’t live at home anymore.

My boyfriend’s mom was worried about me, and offered me a job and a place to stay for the summer, I accepted, but when I told my parents they were furious and kicked me out, but I came back to live there until I graduated.

My mom, on the day before my grad told me she’d rather go to a funeral than to my grad, and that my dad didn’t want to be my escort. My grad night was not a good night for me.

That summer rocked, it was great I loved it. It was the happiest time of my life living my boyfriend and working, It was the first time I ever had freedom.
Then I went to university. My boyfriend got in a car accident and got hurt a guy assaulted me… I ended up cutting again, and my roommates found out. They isolated me, hated me, and finally I had to move out because on of the girls said she’d rather watch me die than call an ambulance.

I’ve only been able to see my boyfriend once since August… And well, that’s where I find myself today…

Ever since I was a little girl, my parents had high expectations of me. They pushed me to excel in everything I did; nothing less than my best was ever acceptable. Because of this, I became very critical of myself and I am now my own worst enemy.

When I was in seventh grade, my life was turned upside down. My perfect family suddenly was not perfect anymore. My dad wanted a divorce, and the happy family, who everyone looked at to model themselves after, was suddenly pulled apart. Since then, my dad has not been a consistent figure in my life. He moves in. He moves out. During my sophomore year in high school, he filed for divorce. I did not see or speak to him for three months. The case was dropped several months later. He currently lives with his parents, although I see him at least five nights a week. This has been going on for seven years now, and my heart is tired of it. I want to be able to accept a reality, either way, and move forward with my life, but right now, we are just stuck in limbo.

I was one of those people who really was never given the choice about what she was going to do after high school…I was college-bound from birth and there was nothing I could do about it. While I am sure, given the option, I would have chosen to go to college anyway, I was very unhappy that the expectation was placed on me. I then never felt like any of the career paths I chose were good enough, for my parents or me. I decided that I was very interested in politics, and that led me to the area of law. Law initially was a compromise for me. It really was not what I wanted to do, but it sounded prestigious enough and it had the political aspect to it. Thankfully, as I took law and political science courses in college, I realized that, not only did I have a knack for them; I really did enjoy them as well. I am now very pleased with the prospect of going to law school, as are my parents.

The questions remain: Where will I go to law school, and what will I do when I graduate? Those are questions I have no answers for, yet they are constantly on my mind.