My F350 truck is serviced.
My camper is in good working order.
I have arranged for my fifth wheel to go in storage.
I’ve taken all the major items I don’t need this winter, like body board, to my storage locker.
I’ve made arrangements for my car to go into storage
I’ve a satellite phone, iPhone and ham radio
I will finish hunting seasons in a couple of weeks and put my guns and ammo in gun and ammo storage.
I’ve the ipad, Mac book pro and max as my virtual office connected to Star Link.
I’ve notified the clinics, families and friends of my time away.
I’ve even arranged extra health insurance for 84 days $1600 for US time
I’ve kept working so money is coming in and taxes are being paid.
I’ve arranged with my accountant to do my taxes when I return.
I’ve made a list of what I need in the camper with me.
I’ve yet to find an RV site
I’ve arranged Laura’s plane ticket for her two weeks visiting me in the sun and heat.
I am really looking forward to au femme time in the south, sun dresses and skirts and joi de vivre. Just like ‘black like me’ I’m enjoying female like me. So many challenges to thinking. No one cares at my age. Like any change, there’s the adaptation then acceptance.
My issue of course is with God. Is this what God wants for me or is this a product of my insaniety. I see delusional thinking in some of those who pass through but others seem no different than those I know who find solace in other things like building their own homes (nests) , have families, travel. I ‘ve done all these things and most enjoyed sailing across an ocean and bicycling across Europe, motorcycling to Sturges and being a northern flyin doctor, country gp, having a homestead practice. I’ve loved all these times and mostly the people I was with. I don’t know that I ever got over being raped or the woman aborting my/our/the child. I’ve loved being a doctor. I most loved being a country gp but I didn’t like the politics. I’ve loved my psychoanalytic psychotherapy days and even my work in psychopharmacology. My virtual practice and the clinics I work in I really enjoy. Being a doctor, a psychiatrist and an addiction medicine specialist has all been a god send. I’ve loved my sobriety, being a part of AA, IDAA and cyberdocs. I’ve loved my study post graduate of theology but have felt the politics of the church less appealing. I pray and meditate and am thankful to St. Mark’s, Regent, Vancouver School of Theology and University of Winnipeg along with the Baptist , Anglican and Catholic Church. I’ve been blessed to be a member of the Self Realization Society and train in yoga. I loved my tai chi training. I’ve loved my learning.’
The joy of being in Greece was enhanced by wearing the Tilly Suit, being a single trans woman in Athens, walking about the museum and writing . I enjoyed being a Joni Mitchell ‘free man in paris’ in Athens. I just feel that dressed as a woman I’m no longer fighting for patients and defending health care against the government colleges and those money pushers who are the elite. Patient’s don’t realize that it’s a struggle of politics to get resources and the attack on any one who ‘rocks the boat’ is merciless. I’ve not enjoyed lawyers and censorship and personal attacks or the divorces.
I wonder if being a male is worth it in Canada. Our PM is so deceitful and a misogynous sociopath who calls himself a ‘feminist’ but then ‘feminism’ is to most a Marxist cultural construct , part of the communist attack on God. I believe communism is the religion of aetheism and narcissism. I’m still celebrating Jesus Christ.
I find the idea of taking estrogen and hiding the masculine in the feminine. The false accusations and the support of the psychopaths making them by the corrupt courts has been an ongoing debacle.
I wonder if it’s resentments. I’ve done several reviews and indeed I continue to have resentment against Canadian institutions, courts and government. I don’t like the Communist Chinese Maoism or Lennism. I find it difficult to consider that every third person in the country especially women and immigrants would support a lying scoundrel like Trudeau. I’d like to lie on a beach, nude or in a bikini and think of the colour of my nails rather than put more time into ‘doing the right thing’. Reporting a killer got me isolated and punished by the killers friends. I’m afraid. Admittedly anxiety is a measure of one’s distance from God.
I am dealing with my declining physical capacity. I have a variable hard on. My back is often in spasm and I’ve lost strength in my upper arms and fear slipping walking in the woods and can’t safely climb uneven hills. I’m getting old and the ‘manly men’ life I lived dependent on my martial arts, physical stamina and ability to lift and lower sails in storms or control out of control motorcycles without crashing on corners when other drivers are being asshole. I’ve become afraid of hurting myself in a way I’ve not been for as long as I can remember. I’m ‘out of shape’ . I sit at a desk to much and don’t stretch enough. I’ve gained weight with covid that’s slow to come off. I feel lighter in satin and lace panties than baggy stanfields. I like lose skirts and sun dresses. It began with sarongs in the south and maybe I’d return to sarongs in the south and shorts sailing. I’m burdened by clothing and the messages of uniforms. I miss the ‘lightness of being’ I knew as an actor dancer when gender wasn’t the issues of war and ‘offence’. I have trouble forgiving the authorities to backing the new Hitler’s and Stalin’s. Watching the nightmare of my friend Johns destruction by the female psychopaths, ‘long necked women and their boys’ was as close to watching Jews or chinese intellectuals put in train cars. I t was sad to see how little the church did and I understood Bonhoeffer watching the shameless doctors take the whole matter seriously. An invalid in a wheel chair savaged by a young woman lusting with passion and deceit. An epic time when I was disheartened by the most evil ones but their support and the ‘nest’ of them, these insect hoards of Satan, the swarm. I’m stuck in the one on one of cowboy days but the modern Marxist mobs are a thing of the day of Attila the Hun our the brown shirts.
I remember often being mugged by t0 young men in Athens , the mob surrounding and attacking me, and fighting to stay upright and running. As a man I felt i could defend myself and so often did but found myself in court being falsely accused by the psychopaths aggressors. I fear as a man I might hurt my attackers and remember years in hospitals and asylums and jails stopping patients and inmates from hurting me or others but with the proviso I didn’t hurt them. I was that good but today I don’t believe I can do that. Yet when the last man threatened to kill me and my dog I has no support from authorities and police . Indeed because the man with the pit bull was a street aboriginal I was , as a white professional, immediately profiled as a ‘class’ agent and the man whose unleashed pit bull tried to attack my old blind little cowering cockapoo was the ‘victim’. When a man in my office threatened to kill me and complained to the college I wouldn’t see him as a patient again I was perceived as the aggressor by these silly Beurocratic psychologically highly disturbed individuals whose strength is only in ‘gang’ behaviour. I’m frightened by the Borg and the zombies and lemmings and sheep and hoards.
As a trans woman I can ironically avoid a large swatch of the elder abuse that reigns these days and accept the authorities would rather protect a trans woman than and old white professional doctor. I also have a tendency to join the underdog. In psychoanalytic therapy the jewish psychiatrist commented on the celtic history of joining a fight on the side of the underdog to make things more even and more interesting. Yes, I’ve fought for so many lost causes and the persecuted early into the scrum and now old.
I’m struggling with aging and having fun. I miss the theatre and yet the idea of wearing a costume on stage and doing improv or even doing the ‘gurilla street theatre’ and dance of youth doesn’t appeal. I’m too much a loner.
That’s today. I’m really blessed with cadillac problems. Thank you Jesus for the roof over my head, the work I have, the family and friends. Thank you for this time today, the changes of seasons and the hope of finding more sun. What a privilege! To less the days of winter with travel and to learn more in study and to be able to participate in learning. I’ve loved my years of academic study and if I wasn’t so busy this summer and fall, positively with getting the camper back on track, I’d have signed up for a distance course in writing a theology. I’d like to write the novel. I’d dreamed I would and I’d love to study more theology and maybe I’ll learn more Spanish. I’d love to study more Hebrew and Greek to appreciate the Bible more. Then there’s Sansckirt. Im very grateful for this life I’ve lived and the memories. I’m truly blessed and yet I don’t feel 71 , but rather I feel 17, this perpetual feeling of the positive side of adolescence, I remember the days I spent in the library enthralled by Singer and Cohen and the love i had in the poetry of Lightfoot, Mitchell and the Beatles. I loved sitar music and now wish I was at the symphony more often . This year I’ve not attended the ballet, theatre , opera or symphony and instead focussed on camping and walking the dog and living . The lock downs of Covid have been hard to get over. I’ve had to take baby steps to over come social anxiety. I’ve enjoyed riding my motorcycle despite the poor drivers. Coming home to the safety of couch and tv or a book after a time out on the streets with the horrendous incompetence of management and the shortages and rationing and censorship with so little backlash against essentially traitors. Meanwhile Epstein’s list remains unknown and the leadership seems together to condone pedophilia or themselves participate in it. Yet I’ve being demonized and punished beyond belief for saying ‘fuck’ . And the greats like Carlin die and yet though he called himself an aetheist I expect to meet with him in heaven one day. My heaven is a bit more inclusive than the church of appearances and political fashion,.
Thank you Jesus for this day. Guide me and lead me and help me be of service. Thank you God for this day.
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