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Personal heros and personal zeros

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I get to pondering a lot as I have an overactive brain. And I amaze myself at the sudden insight into things from my past that make sense in the present. I make connections I never made and come to realizations that close long-standing issues from the past. Living as an ABDL has its mental and emotional challenges and I get comfort when I put things into perspective.

My past is littered with people who have either left a positive impact, a neutral impact, or a negative impact on me. To be dark and blunt, I'm going to describe two early ones. I'll change their names but the stories will be true.

When I was in kindergarden, I had a classmate we'll call "Barb Stevenson". Barb was nice to everybody. Everybody except me for some reason. I tried to be friends with her but always found an abrasive personality instead. She seemed to delight in seeing me suffer and was always to first to deliver news to me that might make me unhappy. After kindergarden, I went to a new school and was relieved because Barb wouldn't be there. Well, Barb also transferred to that school and I had to suffer through her foulness until 7th grade. Even years later, snooping around on Facebook I realized she is nasty to a lot of people. Barb Stevenson was not a nice person and she gets a negative mark on my lifeline.

Around the same time, first grade, was the new school's kindergarden teacher. We'll call her "Mrs. Chandler". She wasn't my teacher, but she did manage the playground at recess and I saw her interaction with other children. This is a woman who clearly had no business being around kids because she obviously didn't like them! She would snap at kids left and right for tiny infractions. Classic teacher from Hell. I remember trying not to get in trouble by her and feeling like I had to hide whenever she was walking the grounds. Mrs. Chandler gets a negative mark. Bad lady. Bad.

That was ugly. It gets better. In high school, due to several factors, once of which being the struggles of being ABDL way back then, I was on the verge of dropping out of high school. I'd gotten to this point where I felt like no matter how hard I tried I would never fit in anywhere. I discovered the movie, Nightbreed at this point and it became and still is a huge influence on how I think of myself and how I relate to the world. Nightbreed is this horror film where the freaks, the monsters, are the good guys and they are just trying to harmlessly live their lives but the judgmental normal folks wage war on them, trying to wipe them out. I became Nightbreed myself. I wanted to live with them in this wonderful place because I was a freak too.

My parents knew I was on the verge of some sort of mental collapse and they enrolled me in what was then, a new teaching approach. A special classroom for the misfit kids where learning was more casual and time was taken for group discussions about problems. The teacher who lead this class I'll call "Mrs. Zane". I've actually mentioned the real person in previous writings.

Her classroom looked like an oddities museum. She had the most eclectic taste in decorating and zany, crazy fun stuff. Wall to wall weirdness with inflatable toys hanging from the ceiling. She had long hair that went almost to her butt and always dressed more like a free spirit hippy than a schoolteacher. Her son was also in my class. He was gay and she couldn't be more accepting and loving of him. I was a confused, angry, scared weirdo kid with no direction but she saw something. She saw the positive side of me and always encouraged my silliness and never snapped at me for expressing myself. If it wasn't for Mrs. Zane, I would have dropped out but she made me feel important.

I would see her on occasion over the years but got shocking and sad news of her passing in 2011. It still chokes me up, writing about it here. I feel like she would have been accepting of my ABDL side. She would have given me a hug and told me to live my life the way I see fit.

One thing I've been lamenting these hot days is the fact that as a long time self harmer, I've destroyed my legs with slashes and scars. They look horribly mangled from the scar tissue and I'm really self conscious about it. I don't wear shorts for fear of them being seen but I'm miserable and I feel cheated out getting to normal people stuff. Today I realized I could get some tattoo work to cover all that stuff and turn into something beautiful. I don't know how creepy it would be, but I'm wondering about at least doing something to commemorate Mrs. Zane. Who made my positive list and got seated on it's throne. That very idea almost made me cry.

I want to live in the ways of Mrs. Zane. Treating others with compassion and openness to new ideas and lifestyles.

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