So today I have been having a very full day.  I have been helping Ron with the bathroom stuff as well as I could.  Did our morning walk.  I talked to Ron a bought evening meals.  I have been watching videos.  I have been answering comments which always makes me happy even though I am getting tired.  I am working on a post right now on the blogging computer how Ron and I redesigned the hallway bathroom.   But even during all that old issues come up.  I am so tired of it, and I am sorry to again hit you with it.  But two videos showed up in my YouTube feed and I clicked on them.  I have to say I shouldn’t have clicked on them, my own damn fault.   Ok I admit that.  But like a moth to a flame sometimes.  What do I say?  I should run, and keep running.  But far too often I click.  And I watch.  And I hurt.   But each of them tried to send me into the void.  Luckily I have strong friends who keep that void from me.  Here are the two videos below.  I am not opening any more YouTube links for now except for those from those I know and respect.  Hugs.  

Unlike the story of the teen above I was shared willingly by my older hell spawn female siblings with their boyfriends  / future husband.  I was way to please the boyfriend without them having to do the work.   When the oldest one’s second husband moved into our home and started raping me and her really young kids she laughed to my adopting mother saying it was so cute her soon to be husband thought he was sleeping with a girl.   A year later her soon to be 8 years old son came to me saying he wished he had been born a girl so he could be a better girlfriend.  I was so entrapped in my own abuse I couldn’t help him.  Hell at that time I couldn’t even understand what he was saying, none of my abusers had told me I needed to be the girl, I just was.   I regret that to this day.  All I could do then was hold him and say please be glad of your man parts and don’t let anyone take them from you.  I don’t know if that helped him or if he is angry because he told someone like I did, and they did not help.  Sadly he told me who was being abused by the very people abusing him.  

Both of these boys were me.  Sadly in the first I had no one to go to, the teachers I told only abused me freely and the only time I pulled a gun on one of my abusers … something, maybe a higher power, maybe just a future me, or a better part of me, convinced me not to and to lower the gun, remove my hand from the trigger and to replace everything to the places they belonged.  Of all the events in my life that once scares me the most.  The idea if I had pulled that trigger that night.  What might I have become.  Horrible to think of.  I was only 9 or so that night.  How I might have destroyed the Scotty that was to be.  But I had just been violently raped by one of my main hell spawn sibling abusers who had made me do unspeakable things before while growing up.  Yet with the gun pressed to his passed out temple, my finger on the trigger, something held me back.  I have never understood why.  Surly I would have been let off by any court.  Blood still tricked down my leg from his sexual assault.  But really that was not the point.  Something more was.  At this point in my life at 62, I doubt I will ever know or understand.  Love to all.  Best wishes to those that don’t want hugs.  Hugs.