For most of my life I desperately wanted to fit in. I’d do anything to not be seen for what I was. The thought of being laughed at and ridiculed was beyond all horrors for me. So when I found a place I thought I could fit in I’d just be me and not care how others thought. So I started to wear clothing that was feminine more and more often. This didn’t fly too well with my first band. They started to make up cruel names for me. The kind that suggests something, ugly and perverted. It got so bad I decided to quit the band giving the excuse that I can’t keep up with the maddening pace of the songs and felt slowing them down would help. It was a biggest, baddest and fasted punk boy band kind of thing.

So I started my own band. And because I was insecure and pretty much a beginner I wanted to their people who just wanted to try it. Most of us just had rudimentary knowledge of our instruments and a couple where quite good. They both left. I was free to dress up for any and every show I was in and no one could say squat. But that lead to me being embolden to dress that way more often. That’s when the sneers started, the the rude comments. It even came to blows when someone I thought of as a friend kicked me in the face at one of his shows.

That’s when I started to think about my gender. Before I knew the feeling was with me. It bothered me enough to show my angst in everything I wrote. The pain of lose knowing I’ll be unable to stay. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And I didn’t want to feel like I’m a freak. So I said yes to travel. This was from my wife’s need to explore the world so wanted to do this badly. I had done my share of it for about 2 years on and off already. Wasn’t all the amazing but maybe with someone it’s worth it. My idea was to settle somewhere else and try again but this was batter. But I’d never explored the world with a partner so we because the perfect storm for just knowing each other and supporting our dreams even limitedly. Mostly by playing in a folk punk kind of thing and making things to sell, mostly jewelry and hair wrapping made a surprising amount of money.

Then came our child and eventually watching her become sick with no real recovery from it. I would of stayed with her. I asked her why and all I got was, “I have my reasons.” I found out years later was she didn’t want me to go though the pain of supporting someone with a major mental illness.

Things don’t work out the way we wanted. I was blamed, threatened and ostracized by her family and friends after 14 years of being a part of their family. As far as they knew, I had done something to her. I believed it. I just couldn’t find where I had done something horrible to her? Was one of the few arguments we had? Was it insisting we raise our child at a home and not on the road. People can be extremely cruel. I found out also years later that my partner and I were considered homeless and shouldn’t be allowed to have a child. There were people who would buy her coffee or food just so they could talk to her. I don’t know the conversations but I could guess. If anything could of feed into her paranoia it was that. We’ve had people openly scorn her for living on the streets with a lazy husband who won’t support his wife and child.. yeah that one hurt a lot. We worked hard and when that failed sometimes we did what we could for some cash. From small jobs to begging. Most of the time we always had enough to eat well and travel.

After that. My life rolled downhill and rested on a ledge.

Up next: The safety ledge.

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