I've always been more sensitive.  I had to learn to chuckle instead of giggle.  To do what was naturally a part of who I was became overwritten by the society that raised me.  Boys were too aggressive, too competitive and too - just TOO (much).  Then my world changed forever when I was 7 years old.
I was sexually abused by a pastor of the church my parents and I attended.  They never knew.  No one knew.  No one knew that my 3rd grade teacher locked me in a closet while the class (lead by her) chanted for me to go away.  No one knew that I refused to have normal digestive flow for 4.5 years.  But she knew.  She was born that day in the darkness of my world.  Of course, you can gather that she is me.  I called her Ysandril.  She was buried into my dreams, my fantasies and my writings.  A 7 year old that could write 30 page stories about being in another world.  
My Journey

She was alive when I played with the girls instead of the boys.

She screamed as a boy took away my kickball to try to prove boys were stronger.

She giggled as I used a basketball to pretend I was pregnant.

She cried when my best friend chose to have a girl as a best friend instead of me at 11.

She grew frustrated as I tried to be a boy scout, a soccer player and a band performer.

She became a persona that I explored in role play and fantasy creation.

She was quiet as I tried to be intimate as a male.

She cried silently as my first love was ripped from me and my first intimate act was to be raped.

She became an extension through the world of paganism, wicca and witchcraft.

She became my spiritual guardian, patiently guiding and providing me love I wish really existed.

She was shoved into a box and sealed shut as I became husband and then father.

She fought me, and shoved herself back to the surface in the wake of my divorce.

She shook her head at me when I kept getting more educational degrees to distract myself.

She crossed her arms at me and arched her brow as I returned to past behaviors.

She held me through anxiety, depression, anguish and suicidal thoughts.

She told me I am a mother.  She told me I am all the love I'll ever need.

She told me I am ENOUGH.  She told me I am not TOO anything.  She told me I am beautiful.

I took her hand, March 14, 2018.  She stepped into the light. My soul merged with my body.


I am Ysandril Minerva Morrigan.

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