The more I dig the more I hurt, I can't dig anymore, I've hit an information wall of protected records and I don't think I even care anymore. The "who was who" game of my past is a roller-coaster I want to escape so the search ends here. I don't need labels or medical documents to tell me who I get to be going forward. I'm not going to celebrate any day that marks an anniversary of a parent not wanting me or another not accepting me until I fit the dimensions of the box they wanted to put me in. I accept that both mothers (whomever was which) accepted the real me before their passing and in that I now release all parties including myself of the guilt and confusion therein.

Mom's, wherever you are in the afterlife, I want you to know I never needed your approval, but I'm stoked I got it the second I started being me. I hope you both are finding the same strength that I'm attaining; to focus on the fun dumb bitches we were together and not what we were towards one another in between it all ♥️