My first thoughts that I remember are when I was 3 years old. I always felt strange and out of place even then. Like I didn't belong here in this strange body, feeling all these strange unpleasant sensations and feelings. I always felt confused and never knew what was the right thing to do. I was jealous of my younger siblings because they seemed to be loved and accepted and I wanted that. My grandmother was very religious and taught me about God and Jesus and brought me along to her "meetings" and "conventions" She was very strong in her beliefs and scolded me many times for my thoughts and actions and even for the fact that I had nail polish on. Hell was a predominant threat. But, even though she did that, I loved her and loved listening to the Bible stories she told me with rapt attention. I loved going to meetings and conventions and singing the hymns. I even wanted to be a "worker" when I grew up. But, it was apparent that tha...
My Life as a Grandmother and a rebel.