An open letter to Jean last name withheld, the person who dumped Cocoa at the pound | A day in the life of lunchy…

An open letter to Jean last name withheld, the person who dumped Cocoa at the pound | A day in the life of lunchy….

with but a slight change this letter could refer to Rachel and how she treated me and our cats at the end of it all.  Two cats, one of them was 12 and the other 8 and she sold them to a clean up person that took them away one morning.  i had no idea.  of course if she could throw away a person for being sick then i suppose it’s easy enough to throw away animals.


dear virtual diary,

it’s been a while, huh?

so, yeah, the Queering the Museum project went well.  i made a film short related to some parts of my life that was exhibited there and will be screened around the country this fall as part of a film project exploring queer women of color (yeah, i know what my skin looks like).  i’ve been asked to collaborate on the creation of a monthly event here in Seattle that may end up resulting in, finally, getting some remuneration.  my recent audition went well and i was cast in a performance art piece that will premier at the Seattle Fringe Fest in September of this year.

i’ve managed to reconcile my situation in life, to some degree even though not all of the states would agree with this.  that does, of course, make things more difficult.  some of them are having a very difficult time letting go and so i try to help more than normal, perhaps, in that way.  i recently found out i have another son, Devon, from a woman that i loved many, many years ago.  we’ve spoken on the phone yet it is, understandably, difficult for him.

life has taken so many twists and turns that even though i could never have expected this i did expect that Rachel would leave me.  she would often tell me that i would leave her but she knew that i never would.  i now believe that she left because she knew that i wouldn’t and that i couldn’t be free if i stayed.  i prefer this view even if it’s not accurate.

I lived through this year

i haven’t tried to kill myself this year.  i wasn’t sure that i’d be able to make it through yet i did.
i didn’t give up on the healing process this year.  i was pretty sure that the trauma of the divorce and the loss of my family would be insurmountable.  i discovered that my love for my son is so beyond anything i could have imagined that i persevered when i would have surrendered.  i may not feel that i’m worth saving yet he deserves to have a chance to meet me.

he will hardly remember me in his life, most of us lose our memories before we were 5 just through time after all.  i will be flashes of memory, vague emotional reminders of a time that couldn’t have possibly existed and the towering, burning anger that he will feel towards me for the rest of his life.  even if he’s able to resolve his anger towards me the scars that it leaves behind will remain.

my ex wouldn’t even consider going to counselling.  she proclaimed that there was no hope of fixing anything and that she wouldn’t even try.  just weeks before she had been visiting every day while i was in the trauma unit, making pictures and art which comprised my safe space imagery.  it reminded me that even though i may not have felt that i was worth saving, Rachel and Alexander were worth saving me for.  i had never imagined such a thing could happen yet there it was and i was, finally, getting help.

days before my discharge she announces that if this body is, in fact, a transgender woman’s body she won’t stay in the relationship.   as i, Jason, type this i know that this question could not have been answered then.  it is not answered now yet i’m the same being that i’ve always been.  she once asked my parents if i had been in a car accident and was horribly burned so that i didn’t look like i used to, would they stop loving me.  they said no and she explained that was why she still loved me.

yet she left.  walked out, had my son packed up and in the car before i had awoken.  the sleeping meds work well and they were done hours before they were scheduled to be.  i suppose that should have been expected yet somewhere, deep inside, the children in the system couldn’t really accept that they were being left again…not by her, not when we were finally getting healthy.

so perhaps it wasn’t what my body looked like after all.  perhaps it was that i suffered a traumatic brain injury when i was young and when the full implications of it’s effects were unknown, she could stay.  when it became clear how much damage there was (the physical damage to my body is significant as well) from that trauma; that my consciousness had fragmented into interdependently co-existing self states, she left.  within a month of getting a job she left.

she would lie to me and tell me that she had to work late when she was visiting apartment complexes, or she would have to go in early as she was arranging everything for herself and my son.  she declared to me that she had wanted to detach from me in love and remain friends with me yet realized that if she was not purposefully mean and cruel to me that i may think there was a chance of reconciliation.   i knew that there was not.  i know, perhaps knew, the person that i fell in love with at first sight quite well.  there was never, ever going to be a reconciliation.   i wondered if, perhaps, she would be kind towards me by the end of my life.  i don’t know.

in some way that i can’t really explain most of me feels like this isn’t real.  this can’t be real.  she would never leave me, we would never leave each other.  we are Dharma partners and we recognized each other.  she has touched the very essence of my being and i, hers.  where there were two, there was only one of us.  i wish that i could have had a system crash earlier, gotten help sooner yet the causes and conditions for that to happen were not right.  they finally were.  finally, after all those years, help and the prospect of being healthy and whole once more.

perhaps i’m dead and this is hell.  it meets most of the Buddhist ideas regarding this sort of thing.

oh i miss my son so much.  i can’t imagine the pain that he is feeling yet i can because i felt it too.  so did Rachel.  we both did and we swore we’d never do what our parents did and then we have both done precisely what they did.  i would do anything within my power to alleviate the suffering of my wife and son even if that meant never speaking or seeing them again.  i know that isn’t true, my son will be affected by this for the rest of his days, as will i, as will she.

i love her.  i always will.  she used to tell me that she loved me and that she always would.  she made a painting for me a few days before she told me she was leaving wherein she promised to be with me until the end of the universe.

she’s not with me.

the universe is ended.


Muse was playing Seattle last night and i attended the show.  the first concert that i’ve been too since Rush’s Vapor Trails tour nearly 10 years ago.  R didn’t like to go to live music with me even though she did before she met me.  i couldn’t really understand it.  it was an amazing show and a really memorable night.  So many things have changed…  life…what i even really want in this game…what it even means and why i bother playing.

i miss my son so much that i can hardly bear it.  i recall every moment of the day he was born, i raised him nearly by myself for the first 4 years and then the ex came and took it all away and reduced me to being, in her eyes, another loser without a job.  of course she dismisses the severe physical disability which prevents me from working.

the stone of woe

i find myself once more giving way under the weight, terrible and oppressive.  it’s crushing me.i cannot seem to put the burden down for any length of time. even when i am happy, i’m sad. even when i’m laughing, i’m crying.
i learned yesterday that my son has learned to swim underwater and jump off the diving board in his swimming lessons. i’m so proud of him! we talked on the phone and he told me about how he only did that in swim lessons but at the regular pool he would only jump off the side.  i remember when i took him to the pool for the first time.  i carried him in my arms and held him close, the water was cold and the entire experience was very different than the bathtub 🙂  i cherish that memory!
i’m so offended and hurt and confused and disbelieving and wishing and crying and crushed and desperate and forlorn and broken.
does it end?  i don’t know.  i know so many trans women that have lost all contact with their kids, sometimes things are reconciled.  sometimes they aren’t.  i hope my son and i can be one of the ones that reconcile.  of course i also thought my relationship with my wife (who is gay but just doesn’t want to address it yet as she is more concerned with “normal” and raising our son) that would be able to endure this.  i knew she was *The One*.  i know that she still is.
i don’t know why i’m still in love but then i never knew why i was in love to begin with.  it just happened when i saw her.  instantly.  across the dusty streets of the Maryland Renaissance Faire, her in line at a vendor and me walking down the sun parched boulevard. she felt it too.  we both did.  it was beautiful.  it always will be.
i don’t know how to turn love off, i never have and i hope i never learn how.  i don’t know how she has done that to me.  perhaps she hasn’t and is just saying that to make it clear to me that there is no hope of reconciliation.

I tried to kill myself

i tried in Feb this year when it became clear that the relationship with my wife was ending.  she swore her vows and made her pledges and still walked away from me during the lowest point of my life.  just packed up her things and my son and drove away leaving me without a home to stay in or any reasonable means to acquire a living place for me and my son to visit.

she took my little boy from me after promising that she would never, ever, do it.  she swore she would follow me to the ends of the universe and beyond and be with me forever…and she left.

i still want to die.  to not live this horrible and painful life.  the one bright point of light in my whole life walked away from me and left me to the darkness once again.  i never broke a promise to her and i never hurt her in any way, i was a good spouse.  sure, i have my flaws and my problems…maybe more than most but i have a generous heart, a kind spirit and loving disposition.

i’ll never understand why it had to be this way.  i’ve been crying for nearly 280 straight days now, ever since she first told me she was leaving me in Sept 2011.  our 13 year wedding anniversary is coming up and that will be the last one.  our divorce will be final before our 14 year one.  we’ve been together for 15 years, more than a quarter of our lives together and, in the end, i was cast aside as so much broken, used garbage.

i’m horribly sad and depressed and i wish my friends hadn’t called the police, i wish they had just let me die.  i do have some unfinished business to attend to and after that i can’t see any reason to fight any longer….i don’t want to die but we all do anyway.

now i’m sleeping on an air mattress in a city across the country relying upon the kindness of friends to survive.

i hate my life and what has become of it.


i wrote the above in April of this year.  i am now living in a different city and sleeping on a bed.  funny thing that, this is the first bed that i’ve ever owned as an adult.  i’ve owed one with someone else but never one of my own…strange.

i don’t feel like i want to die everyday now, only whenever i get done talking to them on the phone…i just can’t process it all and so i break down crying and sobbing for hours.

i can’t believe things just got so fucked up.

Co-Parenting, Narcissism, and Emotional Abuse of Children During & After Divorce | Co-Parenting

Co-Parenting, Narcissism, and Emotional Abuse of Children During & After Divorce | Co-Parenting.

Take care of yourself. Divorcing a narcissist with children in the mix means that for some years you will not be able to completely sever ties with this person. Dealing with them can be exhausting and stressful. Commit to self-care to bring yourself some relief. Your martyrdom will not help your children.”


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