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I survived the odds of birth in ways that astound me. As I ponder my life and all the ups and downs I have experienced, one aspect is a general theme for me – PROTECTION. Protection of and for myself no matter the cost.

I knew I had to keep myself alive as I had a greater purpose but had no idea what that meant for me. Society, family or friends told me what they believed and I made a lot of those beliefs mine.

I knew deep within myself that I had to protect me to eventually water the fragile flower that was slowly dying in me. When that flower had finally had enough and when I experienced all aspects of fear and loss that this planet could offer, then and, only then would I decide to step up and take my life back and provide life giving water to my soul.

I beat the odds of birth on my first day on planet earth because it began with no life at all. My family would recount the tales over and over again of how I had to be “smacked to life” when I was born. Hearing that I was dead the minute I was born ponders the question, was I really ready to be abused in all areas one can experience abuse? Was I ready to not experience love for over 3 decades? Was I ready to be the gay kid in a not so gay world? I beat the odds of birth because for the first time in my life I have the answers to those questions.

I have beat the odds of birth during emotional, sexual and physical abuse in my life. I have allowed myself to sink to new lows just so I could feel what that low would feel like for me. It’s as if I wanted to experience pain just so I could relate to people who had that pain. I beat the odds of birth when I moved past that pain. I write these words with sheer appreciation for all I have endured.

I beat the odds of birth growing up in an environment where love was a mystical illusion, that I wouldn’t understand to much later in life. I thought love was something that was seen on TV or in a separate universe. Love was not something I could tangibly touch, so therefore it must be like a unicorn, it doesn’t exist.

I beat the odds of birth when I realized my family didn’t know how to create safety for me. How could I blame them? Did they beat the odds too but just in a different way that was right for them? I remember reading somewhere that we have to assume that people are doing the best they can with any given situation or life event thrown at them and how they handle it is a representation of their own belief system.

I beat the odds of birth when my parents died in front of me in my mid-twenties and I moved past it in stages that looked more like a heartbeat graph and not a steady line of healing.

I beat the odds of birth when I understood that I will no longer hold the energy of hatred for me in my body. I began to question who the fuck I was, and I had to look at that ugly person in the mirror for so many years and I would lie to him. I would tell him its ok to put boundaries up and walls with barb wire fences to keep me protected. I would tell him its ok to cover my feelings with cigarettes and alcohol so I could live another day to hate myself some more. I would tell him its ok to not be loved because loved people hurt people. I would tell him its ok to push people away who got to close because they are just going to hurt me anyway in some shape or form.

I beat the odds of birth when I understood that my story is important.

I beat the odds of birth because I LOVE every day, I create my life in a way that has never been shown to me except in my mind.

I beat the odds because I LOVE in a world that taught me to hate.

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