Chilling Discovery

I was tooling around in my blog and my old emails tonight. I found something I had not previously been aware of. It was an email message from Rambo to my current therapist right before the campaign to get rid of the old therapist (buddha boy) last fall because that relationship was very damaging to some inside. There was a time when discovering something like this email would have sent me straight to bed for who knows how long. Now it only makes me salute my protector and the lovely therapist who listened to him, believed him and worked with him in order to help us all (especially the children). Here is the email from last year that resulted in the current therapist helping us gain our freedom from a therapy that was stalled and hurting:


Hey, New Guy. Lynn's internet buddies are in love with you, but I need to clarify some shit because I am not swayed by public opinion. Ever. Yeah, I am the one who chose you. And so it is my responsibility to make absolutely sure you know what you are getting into before you help us get the little ones away from the meditating buddha boy. Here is what you are getting into:

1. ME. I will NEVER go away and I am always watching and listening. Nothing gets by me. Especially not with any therapist. I'd sooner leave a hound dog to guard a steak than I would leave anyone alone with a therapist. You'd do well not to forget that. It's nothing personal.

2. Frankly, you are getting into a mess here, guy. You are already into it, actually. So I hope you can look at how it has been so far and make a true and real decision about whether or not you can stand all the damn emails and phone calls you've gotten. Cause that's what this is. It ain't peaceful and it ain't pretty. Sometimes it gets a little worse for a while when memories surface. And no matter what dumbasses like the buddha boy say, bubble baths and the goddamn mindful fucking peeling of oranges don't fix a motherfucking thing. Don't ever say idiot shit like that. No one here likes it. What they like is to be listened to and cared about because that is what helps them to the next level. Listening and caring are different from saving the goddamn world, so if you have co-dependent shit like the buddha boy, you have to either work it out or check it at the door. They need a real, warm and genuine person - not a hero. They have ME for hero shit. Don't step on my gig.

3. In choosing to continue, you are agreeing to maintain honesty. Lies make me rabid, even when the truth is uglier than a monkey's ass. You know how you admitted a couple of times that you didn't know why you said certain things? So much better than creating some load of bullshit to cover your ass. The same with admitting limitations like that time she thought she was being ignored when you were really just busy. And the time you admitted to sometimes forgetting things because there are so many issues here. This kind of honesty would have to continue. Especially since you're not a dick about it. Which brings me back to #1 and it bears repeating in #4.

4. ME. Sometimes people think I'm a dick. I don't need approval, but I'm not trying to be a dick. I just call things like I see them and I do it the way I do it or the others will not hear me. Not inside OR outside. Especially not outside. They are fooled by the appearance of the body and they don't want to hear ME and then I have to get ugly. Like with the christing fucking buddha boy. No brains and no nads. I offered to loan him a pair, but I don't think he can carry mine, you know what I'm saying? If you continue, you are agreeing to always come to work with your nads. Don't leave home without them or you'll end up pissing yourself like the buddha boy.

5. I have a personal agenda besides liberating the others. Maybe you can help me, too. I managed to get the dogs, but I still need to get rid of the buddha boy, the alcohol and the cigarettes. Then there is the matter of my weights collecting dust under her bed. The muscles have atrophied since the buddha boy abused the teenage girl. The triceps are especially demoralizing. The way the body is treated here is horrible. It's got to stop. It's hurting Jenny and it could kill us all if it keeps up long enough. Step one is dumping the buddha boy. TRUST ME ON THIS. If you can take over, then he's got to go. If it were up to only me, I'd get rid of him anyway, even if you decide we're a nightmare and you can't work with us.

I'm almost sorry that I'm the one who has to direct something like a therapy, but I'm who you have to work with. If there is ever some major problem, you need to tell me and I'll see what I can do. I hope you are not offended by me. I'm just doing my job. Somebody's got to do it. I'm who there is and I am who I am. It's really just that simple. I hope you understand.

And please don't answer this particular email. I don't know who will be checking it or what will be going on when they do, so it needs to be separate. We'll just keep this between us because there has been too much chaos here lately. A shock would only make it worse. Let's just focus on getting rid of the buddha boy should you decide you want to continue.


I'm thankful to Rambo for looking out for me even when I didn't know he was. I'm thankful to the therapist for trusting Rambo, listening to him and FOR ACTING. I am so impressed that he knew Rambo was truly concerned with our best interests and is a safe and competent protector.

The following song is from me and Jenny to Rambo, from me and Jenny to the therapist on behalf of the inside children, and most amazingly, from Rambo to the therapist. Yes, the lyrics with these dedications lend themelves to gender confusion, but that doesn't bother us. :-) Gender is so often irrelevant.



Wow. Anywho... I am still flogging that darned to-do list, but I have at least completed everything for the kids to start school on Monday. I'm still behind, though. I want to post pics of our vacation. Soon. I promise. I have great pics of some of the most fabulous drag queens in my photos, too! Whut. It was Key West. You weren't expecting Mickey Mouse, were you? Mickey Mouse is in Orlando. We don't do Orlando.