Week 8 of writing this weird little news letter that probably does more to showcase the work of others than to actually bring anything of mine really forward, unless you really read through it. But that’s the point right, uplift the voices of others while I process the mess that’s in my head.

It still shocks me that anyone wants to read the results of whatever strand of thought I’ve been worrying at recently. Just like it shocks me when people go out of their way for me.

Yeah, I know… I go out of my way for others all of the time. I guess I should anticipate that some of them would want to return the favor, but the infrequency with which that this occurs gives the impression that its not something I should anticipate and adds to the shock when it does. It also adds to the fact that I’ll just suffer through whatever rather than asking for help with it.

I exist in an almost constant state of music consumption, sometimes it shapes my mood and other times it echoes it, a soundtrack from a blip in my life.

Every Monday night Minx and I host a social hour where we talk about anything and everything… but we kind of try to steer clear of politics, because we have either had our fill over the weekend or we will get inundated through the week ahead.

You never know what we’re going to get up to, or who might show up! But you can count on two things, we’ll be there and we’re bringing new tunes every week.

If you’re reading this on a Monday, and you have nothing planned at 9pm Eastern, stop on by.

When I was a kid, I was exposed to a LOT of philosophical concepts. Most of these things went way over my head at the time. But sometimes through the recent excavation of my past, these concepts reveal themselves again… for the first time.

My dad questioned religion after his father passed away…6 years later, I was born.

When my father died 40 years after that... I questioned everything that I was.

He was the reason I suppressed everything. And also the reason that I finally came to my senses. He hated that in spite of having been ecstatic over not having a son so he wouldn’t have to play sports of worry about losing his tools… he still had to play sports, and very many of his tools grew legs walking right into my possession. He hated my short hair accusatorily slurring me under the assumption that I was a lesbian, and even once I eventually had a child and was married he lectured me on things I was doing that he viewed as me “emasculating” my now ex.

When he passed away I started questioning everything, starting with why I felt relieved that he was gone. Slowly I started dropping the guard that I didn’t even realize I had been holding, and as I finally started to relax for the first time in probably my entire life, I found brand new parts of myself that I didn’t realize existed.

But that really didn’t start to become outwardly visible until 2 years later, when I discovered the life I had been living wasn’t what I really wanted and that there were alternatives.

All of this makes me wonder… what life changing thing happens to me at 6 years after his death. Its not like I can have more children so that’s out! But its been 2 ½ years already…

1/26/2026

DIY

About the Author

I am Sarah, a late blooming queer individual exploring my past experiences through introspection and internal work as well as talking to others and having conversations that lead to further thought experiments. This is an evolution of being in real time.

I’ve written heavily on the grief of losing my father suddenly and how that has resulted in my transformation, and the grief of losing my friend and brother to cancer. I’m writing more recently on my experiences and realizations and incorporating some DIY and hobby content where I can.

Thank you for reading 🙂

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