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Intense grief at not transitioning earlier


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Hi everyone, I’ve been struggling for a while now with regret over not transitioning earlier. But actually I don’t know if “regret” is the right word, because every time I express it that way someone tells me not to blame myself. Well, I don’t blame myself. I understand completely why it took me so long. I was terrified. 

 

Since I was six years old, I have had my gender aggressively policed and my sexuality called into question by males who, I now suspect, were as fascinated by me as they were disgusted. As I got older, whenever I would wander outside of rigidly-coded masculinity – whether by dyeing my hair or dressing androgynously or growing my hair long – there would be males waiting to abuse me with homophobic slurs or aggressively proposition me. When, in my late thirties, I eventually returned to crossdressing (something I swore I’d never do again when I gave it up at age 10), I was repeatedly sexually harassed.

 

I was born in 1973. I grew up in an outer suburb of a provincial Australian city. A couple of months ago I started seeing a new therapist and gradually noticed that every time I sat in her waiting room I started crying, even if I’d seemed happy immediately before. This week I realised why: her waiting room is such a safe place for trans children. There’s a gender unicorn on the wall and little pamphlets discussing gender. I never had anything like that! I never felt safe anywhere, not physically safe (my father was violent and I suffered bullying at school) and certainly not safe to discuss or express my gender.

 

I work with trans kids. I care a lot about trans kids. I sometimes think I would die to protect the rights of trans kids. But trans kids make me jealous too. When I first saw the documentary The Dream Life of Georgie Stone, about the young Australian trans activist and actress, I cried through the whole thing. Georgie’s parents had filmed her as a little child, presenting as a girl, and it was as if I was watching the childhood I could have had, if only I’d been born 25 years later. It was heartbreaking.

 

For almost three years now, ever since I first started posting on TransPulse, I’ve been trying to talk myself down from believing I’m a binary trans woman. At first, I didn’t quite believe I was trans at all. Now, I tell myself I’m transfeminine, or non-binary. But there’s a nagging part of me that thinks, “But what if I’d felt safe at age seven? Mightn’t I have transitioned then like Georgie Stone?” And that thought rips me apart, because if I believe it then my life looks like a tragedy. 

 

I was angry for most of my “male” life. I used to punch holes in walls and shout at people. I did things I am too embarrassed to recount. I threw away a promising writing career (I now think) because I couldn’t be honest enough with myself to keep writing from the heart. I couldn’t accept that I was attracted to men because (1) I could never have been with a man if he saw me as another man, and (2) I was scared of them. I judged myself harshly by the standards of masculinity and constantly tried to prove myself. I thought I was ugly. I was often depressed.

 

I doubt any of this is very new. I know that. I don’t claim my story is special. I’m also not looking for reassurance. It doesn’t actually help when people tell me there is no use in having regrets, because I can’t help it. I know what grief is. But this grief is so far beyond anything I've experienced.

 

I realised this week it doesn’t matter if I’m a binary trans woman or not. I’m trans. I was always trans. It doesn’t matter “how” trans I was. The point is I was too afraid to be myself. For 47 years I was too afraid. I have cried so many tears over this. All I can think to do is to try to make sure others never have to experience what I did. And maybe, one day, to write a beautiful book about it. I have to let go. I am so happy sometimes. I love my life. Most importantly, I love myself. But there’s this shard of broken glass in my heart. What do I do with it? How do I pull it out without hurting myself even more?

 

Thank you for reading, and I'm sorry if this seems self-indulgent. I'm sure I can get through this, I'm just not quite sure how.

 

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I hope you don't mind if I try to respond - your words are so thought-provoking. In some ways familiar to me but in others very different. As we all know, each of us is as unique as the story of our journey.

 

What struck me most were your questions about how to deal with that piece of broken glass in your heart. I think that it is there for many, if not most, of us raised in the era when transitioning was not something even thought about and so we learned to be who we were expected to be.

 

Someone once told me that the pain we felt when we lost someone we loved was the price we pay for having loved so deeply. That, upon passing, the person takes a piece of our heart with them, but in return leaves a piece of theirs behind. Perhaps, what you - many of us - feel is the pain from that piece of our heart that belonged to the "other" person we were expected to be that has been left behind as he/she departed. It's there to remind us that he/she was always a part of who were and who we will be and that we just need to acknowledge it. Like grief, it never totally disappears - we just learn to accept it as part of the cycle of life.

 

This probably makes no sense - I just wanted to express that I have that same feeling in my heart and struggle with how to deal with it. I know I can't change the past - and so I try for look forward at how I can become as much of "me" as I can and help others to be able to enjoy more of their lives without regrets.

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10 hours ago, April Marie said:

Someone once told me that the pain we felt when we lost someone we loved was the price we pay for having loved so deeply. That, upon passing, the person takes a piece of our heart with them, but in return leaves a piece of theirs behind. Perhaps, what you - many of us - feel is the pain from that piece of our heart that belonged to the "other" person we were expected to be that has been left behind as he/she departed. It's there to remind us that he/she was always a part of who were and who we will be and that we just need to acknowledge it.


Thank you April Marie, that really touches me. It’s a beautiful thought. I think I struggle with loving the “old me”; I always did and I still do. But there is some grief in losing that self the same as if I’d lost a friend. I tell myself I am the same person, but the reality is there are certain things I have had to let go of to transition. 
 

It’s so strangely haunting going through this transformation process. It brings up so many emotions, some of which seem in conflict with others. It can be exciting, but sometimes it’s plain exhausting!

 

Thank you again for reading and for your comment.

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I have the same regrets, often I get sad about how much happier I am now knowing that there could have been more of that earlier if it hadn't taken so long. Try to give myself credit for at least finally doing it. 

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1 minute ago, RhondaS said:

Try to give myself credit for at least finally doing it. 


Yes I do that too. I tell myself how well I’m doing and how proud I am of myself. It helps.

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9 hours ago, Betty K said:


Thank you April Marie, that really touches me. It’s a beautiful thought. I think I struggle with loving the “old me”; I always did and I still do. But there is some grief in losing that self the same as if I’d lost a friend. I tell myself I am the same person, but the reality is there are certain things I have had to let go of to transition. 
 

It’s so strangely haunting going through this transformation process. It brings up so many emotions, some of which seem in conflict with others. It can be exciting, but sometimes it’s plain exhausting!

 

Thank you again for reading and for your comment.

I can relate slightly to this as well. I am intersex AMAB, but later developed curves and breasts during puberty. Needless to say, I spent 45 years hiding my body and trying to live as a man. It didn't really work very well; everyone knew there was something off. A growing spree about 18 months ago made hiding my body impossible (DD's size growing spree). 

So, I just went with it and now live 100% as a woman. I let my body lead the way. I'm accepted as a woman everywhere I go without dressing up or wearing makeup. I have always been more feminine than male anyways. 

 

I do miss some of those things from the past, it seems like an old friend has passed away. I am much happier being me now, and I always did see myself as more female than male, but I do miss certain aspects of things.  

My biggest regret is that my parents did nothing to surgically repair my problem at birth. I could have been raised as a female, I have some of the plumbing. Raising me as a male really threw a wrench into the spokes. 

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20 hours ago, Betty K said:

Most importantly, I love myself. But there’s this shard of broken glass in my heart. What do I do with it? How do I pull it out without hurting myself even more?

Good morning Betty,

 

I like how you admit that this feeling of regret is also a form of grief. The most important thing I learned about grieving, there no time limit or rule book to follow. It's an individual experience, and we only understand the basics. I look back on my 'shard of broken glass' as a scar. The scars that I have are badges of experience. Some I show off with honor, because the story about it is honorable or funny. My biggest scar in on my right torso, measuring about 5.5 inches. It's from donating my right kidney to my best friend in April 2008. I have a scar on my forehead just above my right eye that is from a bicycle crash I had after jumping a home made ramp built with my neighborhood friends. That scar is talked about more by my friends than by me, because they say how far I rode on my front tire before crashing into a barbed wire fence.  Then there's that invisible scar caused by that proverbial shard of broken class. Like you I cry over it with my therapist, and while watching movies or reading a similar story to mine. My eyes were weepy while reading and responding to this thread. I'm proud that you are working to make it easier for the trans youth in your community, it has to be rewarding, and even therapeutic in some ways. 

 

Hugs, and under the pressure of love, let turn that shard of glass into a diamond.

A scar to be proud of.

 

Mindy🐛🏳️‍⚧️🦋

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1 hour ago, Birdie said:

My biggest regret is that my parents did nothing to surgically repair my problem at birth. I could have been raised as a female, I have some of the plumbing. Raising me as a male really threw a wrench into the spokes. 

 

That is so interesting Birdie. I have never heard an intersex person express that regret; what I generally hear is the opposite, that those who had surgery as infants regret it was ever done. But then again, I am hearing this at second hand from those advocating against such surgeries. Do you know many intersex people who share your regrets?

 

Also I'm curious, who decided to raise you as a boy and why? Would surgery really have made all the difference?

 

What astonishes me in the cases of many intersex people is that the choice to raise them as one gender or another seemed so arbitrary. I wonder if in future it will be possible to simply raise children as agender or gender-neutral until they identify as a gender of their own accord.

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54 minutes ago, Mmindy said:

turn that shard of glass into a diamond.

 

This made me cry, Mmindy. And it's funny, I was listening to a favourite pop song called "Pink Diamond" the other night with a girlfriend. "I'm a pink diamond," I said, and we both laughed. Maybe it was truer than I realised.

 

59 minutes ago, Mmindy said:

I'm proud that you are working to make it easier for the trans youth in your community, it has to be rewarding, and even therapeutic in some ways. 

 

Thank you, and yes, it is so therapeutic. I frequently feel that I should be paying them. It's the only job I've ever loved. I know we will ultimately win against the bigots because we have so many young people on our side.

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I too feel regret over my lost female childhood and youth.  I didn't transition until I was in my 60s.  I regret not growing up as a girl and learning girl stuff.  It would have been a totally different life if I had known.

 

But there is also forgiveness.  I forgive myself for not understanding who I was, just as I forgive my parents posthumously for not being aware.  The forgiveness is a key element.  I did the best I could, as my parents did.  Our best may not have been very good, but it was our best.  That allows me to file it all away as "water under the bridge".  It makes the regret poignant instead of painful.

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43 minutes ago, Betty K said:

 

That is so interesting Birdie. I have never heard an intersex person express that regret; what I generally hear is the opposite, that those who had surgery as infants regret it was ever done. But then again, I am hearing this at second hand from those advocating against such surgeries. Do you know many intersex people who share your regrets?

 

Also I'm curious, who decided to raise you as a boy and why? Would surgery really have made all the difference?

 

What astonishes me in the cases of many intersex people is that the choice to raise them as one gender or another seemed so arbitrary. I wonder if in future it will be possible to simply raise children as agender or gender-neutral until they identify as a gender of their own accord.

My parents made the decision to leave things alone. The doctor apparently agreed. 

Spending my childhood swatting to pee was quite hard to explain to other children than can be rather cruel as well. The breasts and curves that puberty brought me left much to be desired in locker room situations. 

All in all, my childhood was a nightmare, and adulthood was barely much better than that. Boobs are not easy to hide identifying as a man. 

All of that could have been avoided had surgery to correct the problem been administered. 

45 years I hid breasts and curves, using men's bathroom "stalls" to avoid being seen and trying to live as my assigned gender. All that could have been avoided by a simple procedure at birth. 

 

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18 minutes ago, Birdie said:

What astonishes me in the cases of many intersex people is that the choice to raise them as one gender or another seemed so arbitrary. I wonder if in future it will be possible to simply raise children as agender or gender-neutral until they identify as a gender of their own accord.

Perhaps one day gender won't be an issue at all, and we can all just be "human", but that also needs to start in childhood so that children understand that we come in all shapes. 

Having to fit one gender or the other in a "Black or white" scenario since childhood really makes things hard for a great many individuals. 

Had there not been so much stigma about me being intersex amongst my peers, I would have gladly waited and opted for surgery much later without any regret. The way the world was in the 60's and 70's growing up, I really didn't have much of a choice but to continue with what my parents decided to raise me as. Puberty left me with breasts and a figure, my birth certificate and ID left me as a typical male. It has only been within the last couple of decades or so that poking my head out above the water has seemed safe to do, but that is quickly changing again in the current political situation. 

I am lucky that I pass a female without makeup or dressing up, so "blending in" fairly easy to do. 

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5 minutes ago, Birdie said:

I am lucky that I pass a female without makeup or dressing up, so "blending in" fairly easy to do. 

 

You certainly are lucky in that respect. But the rest of your story sounds so random, it must be very hard to accept.

 

I wasn't there for the 60s, but I got a dose of the 70s and that was bad enough.

 

I'm glad you're finally living as who you want to be. I can't imagine how hard all this must have been for you.

 

 

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10 hours ago, KathyLauren said:

I forgive myself for not understanding who I was, just as I forgive my parents posthumously for not being aware. 


I forgive myself too, and my parents. But so far I can’t forgive society as a whole for its prejudice, especially now that I see so many people trying to force us back to those dark ages. 

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This is complicated for me.  Yes, I wonder what might have been if I had known in the 60's that being transgender was actually a thing.  Perhaps I would have tried then.  But I suspect I would not have survived.  As it was, I had no concept of this.

And so I tried to live the best I could and buried the girl in my heart.

 

Looking back, how would life have been different?  And how would it have affected the other people in my life?

 

As it was, I met a woman, married and we raised 8 kids.  These 8 people would not be here if I had somehow transitioned.  And some of them are my biggest supporters - some more reluctantly.

 

Yes, I do regret not having lived as a girl, and later a woman.  But we kinda have to play with the hand we are dealt - the best we know how at the time.

 

I suspect I lived a bit vicariously through my ex, and 6 daughters.  I was the "midwife" at most of the births, and helped care for the babies.  Sure, I was envious of my wife, but like I said… we have to play the hand we are dealt.  I tried to do my part - and although we are not still together, she still says I did the best I could.

 

After several years on HRT, and socially transitioning, I now consider myself having "switched teams."  And I'm happy with this.

 

And yet my past is still there.  I'm wary of "cultural appropriation," but I kind of feel like there is a kind of "Two Spirit" aspect to my life.  And this, in a way, is an honor.

 

Sorry for running on with this.  Sometimes I just overthink it all.  Really I should just go to bed.

 

G'night y'all.

 

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I have some regrets about how my earlier life could have gone.  If I'd known.  If I'd had a different family.  If I'd been mentally/emotionally stronger.  So I get how you might feel the way you do. 

 

For me, I just really try to live in the present.  I can't change the past.  The milk is spilled, the water has gone under the bridge, etc...  I have no friggin' clue what the future holds, as when I was a kid I never could have guessed in a million years what my life looks like in my 30's. 

 

Do I regret not having a relationship before 26?  Sure.  Do I regret allowing my parents to push me around, try to mold me and blackmail me, and nearly put me into a type of conversion therapy?  Sure.  Am I uncomfortable that I can't really find a label or a corner that fits me?  Sure.  And there's a lot of times where I feel confused, helpless, and totally reliant on those around me.   

 

If I let myself do it, I can get morose over those things late at night and fret myself into a mood.  I do that occasionally (and it is quite natural) but it is unproductive.  I'll ask - what is in your present that is good?  What in your present do you think should be changed?  What makes you smile, or feel secure, or give you good feelings that take away the bad things?  When possible, focus on what is constructive.  I remind myself using a verse from the Bible.  While not everyone chooses a faith, I find this to be a good saying:

 

"Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things."  (Philippians 4:8) 

 

When I catch myself in a negative or scary thought pattern, I try to remember that verse and guide my thoughts to something more pleasant.  There's also the popular Serenity Prayer:

 

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,  and the wisdom to know the difference."

 

And for those who don't follow a faith path, that prayer can simply become a thought or a focus or a reminder about a way of living and thinking.  Your path has been what it is.  You are who you are.  You look and act how you look and act.  These things aren't "good" or "bad" and we can re-frame our attitudes about these things to acknowledge that they just...are.  And it isn't a one-and-done sort of thing.  It is a daily thing.  Sometimes hourly or every five minutes if I'm feeling bad.  Hopefully I'm getting better at it over time, and I hope that you can find peace in that way too.  💜

 

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6 hours ago, awkward-yet-sweet said:

Am I uncomfortable that I can't really find a label or a corner that fits me?

There is a label for people like us, and we are intersex. There is nothing wrong with us at all, we are just special. 

I spent my whole life wondering why and beating myself up over it, then I realized recently that I have something most people don't. I have a body that will lead me physically and hormonally in the direction it desires, and it does. My body was screaming womanhood for the last 45 years, and my problems were because I fought it. My body won the battle. 

 

My doctor is doing the ultrasound today and drew blood Friday. He wants to confirm that my gendering was made properly at birth, but I really don't care what they come up with. My body likes estrogen and produces it, I grew curves and breasts, I look and feel feminine. That is proof enough for me to allow myself to take the journey I am on. 

 

awkward-yet-sweet, you are very special!

I am very special! 

We all are very special our own way!

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11 hours ago, Ivy said:

And yet my past is still there.  I'm wary of "cultural appropriation," but I kind of feel like there is a kind of "Two Spirit" aspect to my life.  And this, in a way, is an honor.

 

That's a beautiful way to look at it Ivy. I feel that too, though sometimes it confuses and hurts me. Part of me wishes I could just be one spirit, I guess, a female one. But I'm also proud to be who I am, fiercely so. And I know my experiences do give me insights that those with only one spirit don't have.

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10 hours ago, awkward-yet-sweet said:

If I let myself do it, I can get morose over those things late at night and fret myself into a mood.  I do that occasionally (and it is quite natural) but it is unproductive.  I'll ask - what is in your present that is good?  What in your present do you think should be changed?  What makes you smile, or feel secure, or give you good feelings that take away the bad things?

 

I get morose sometimes but not often. Morose is not really the word. I'm talking about gushing tears. I guess I've never really seen the wisdom in trying to avoid expressing grief. To me, it always seemed to turn to poison, and ultimately anger, if I didn't let it come out as sadness. It's not the expressing of it that I think is the problem. It's not whether I focus on it or not. It's just the fact that it exists, and there seems to be nothing I can do about it. Like all grief, I know it will get easier to cope with as time passes, so I simply have to wait.

 

There is plenty that is good in my life. This is the paradox: the happier I feel in the present, the sadder I feel about the past.

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I completely can relate to it. I wished I started earlier and I would've already been done through a lot. At the same time it wasn't as accepted. I knew I couldn't tell my parents because I knew they wouldn't help me. I joined the military and couldn't do it then. I then got out and could've done it but was denying myself. I wished I just accepted it.

 

Now I'm on my third estrogen patch and feel a little better. I don't get angry like I used to. I do seem to get colder easier. I got myself all female clothes and have almost gotten rid of all male clothes. I feel much happier that I can show how I feel inside. I lost a lot of support when coming out but got tired of living in secret. 

 

I still find myself attracted to females so I guess that's just how I feel. I have been talking to what will hopefully be my future partner. She is very understanding and kind. I have even talked to her grandma and she calls me her daughter. Some family members are supportive but not the amount that I would like. Maybe they'll come around, maybe not. 

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41 minutes ago, Ashley0616 said:

I don't get angry like I used to.

I used to be always just a little bit angry at nothing in particular.  I just suppressed it.  That kinda went away for me when the egg cracked.

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1 hour ago, Ashley0616 said:

I don't get angry like I used to.


Me neither. No more punching walls for me. I default to tears instead. I always cried a lot, but I often had to go through anger to get there. Now it’s the other way round. I’m still angry — I’m absolutely furious at conservative society and how it held us all back and is still trying to do so — but I don’t really feel it till I’ve felt the sadness. I think the anger is useful though. I don’t let it own me like I used to, but I’m not just going to give the bigots a free pass. I think straight society deserves a dose of righteous trans anger.

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      sometimes that's all that saves their lives. I mean… dragging me out of bed at 03:30 and expecting me to feed you… now?  
    • VickySGV
      I would have suggested but not demanded that you go to your nearest hospital or just to the a local clinic or even police station but I would have listened as well for what it took.  It is no shame to get medical attention, nor is it a shameful thing to get into a care situation.  Here where I live our sheriff will send out a counseling team to see how serious your situation really is, again, no shame attached.  It sounds to me that the police who came to you did the same thing there. We do have the related Discord Site Chat Site for help if you just need to chat a depression off, it is a bit funky, but when you are feeling OK, fire it up for the down times.   https://www.transgenderpulse.com/chat/   I have Cyclic Major Depressive Syndrome myself which comes and goes.  I do have IRL human sources through a couple of LGBTQ Centers around me.  Again, I set up the system in my good moments and found out they were fine for those times too.    I do not know who you called but if it is one of the numbers on on our site here, please let one of us on the Admin staff know by PM which it was. 
    • LaurenA
      The cops were here.  I was able to talk them off without getting arrested.  Every time this happens I swear I'll never do this again.
    • KymmieL
      Wow, That is BS. You call for help. Then they don't want to give any. that is sure nice. Lauren is there anyone else you can call. We are here if you need help. Just talk to us. We don't judge. Only thing we would tell you to check in to is a resort to pamper yourself.   Take care, Kymmie
    • LaurenA
      I was depressed and called a hotline.  All they want me to do is check myself in.  I hung up on them and expect the police to show up at any moment.
    • Davie
      Reading is resistance’: students and parents take on DeSantis’s book bans. Florida governor’s constant attacks on the education system have led to an increasing backlash from a wide range of people. Upon learning that her AP English teacher might not be able to use Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison in the syllabus this year, Mogul came up with an idea to start a book club. Her aptly named Banned Books Club was established last month, featuring titles that have been removed from public school circulations in Florida, and meets at a celebrated Miami bookstore called Books & Books. A range of people of different ages and backgrounds, including a handful of Mogul’s peers, an audio producer and an English teacher attend. https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2023/sep/23/florida-desantis-book-ban-school-student-parent
    • Nicoleeolee
      You’re so sweet…. thank you so much…. I appreciate the encouragement. I have worked very, very hard. It’s an interesting life having a cat as a roommate, right. I mean overall they’re terrible terrible roommates. You have to clean up after them constantly.. They never chip in for dinner? They won’t go get a job. …😂.   Luckily, they’re really cute and furry.
    • Willow
      Hi, where did the week go?  So, last Sunday I gave a sermon for our on-line church.  Wednesday, I worked 6 to 2.  When I got home I sat for a little while then I proceeded to make two loaves of bread for a church bake sale.  Friday, I worked at our church’s annual yard sale as a cashier.  And today I opened our store, 4:15 to 12:15.  Yes, I was tired.  I’m not used to getting up that early.  I had a short nap this afternoon.  We are going to a local pub for dinner then I’ll watch the Buckeyes vs Notre Dame football game.  I’m a bit of a channel surfer so I don’t know that I’ll watch it from beginning to end.  It depends on what else is on, but I will keep track of the game.     Next week at work we will be doing a whole lot of changes.  Making certain everything in the store shelves is correctly located per marketing guidelines.  Then overnight Tuesday we will pull off all of the shelf tags and put up all new ones.  The entire store in one overnight.  That should be interesting.  I think that is supposed to be the first step in a total makeover.  Well, maybe step two if you count going to overnight unattended fueling as a part of it.  Eventually, we are supposed to get all new drink machines, move the candy aisle, add additional store shelves and much more.  This fall should be interesting.   We had tropical storm Ophelia make a backside visit here last night.  Rain and wind.   Willow
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