Tag Archive | relationships

I don’t wanna go on with you like that 💛

No one is going to dull my sparkle! Still shining ✨️ 💛

But I don’t wana go on with you like that
It gets so hard sometimes to understand
This vicious circle’s getting out of hand
Don’t need an extra eye to see
That the fire spreads faster in a breeze 🖤

I Don’t Wanna Go On With You Like That- Elton John 🖤

This is the version of this post that I’ll probably share on Facebook. I have a much longer version for this blog. But, for now, I will share this shorter version (still super long).

I shared this on here before, but I later removed the post out of concern that certain people may see it. I think the post is called “I don’t wanna go on with you like that.” Elton John! It’s back in my drafts, and I considered publishing it again. But, I’ll share this instead and name it after the original. Lol

When I posted it last year, I was in a darker place. I had no idea what to do. This year, I’m in a much better and productive headspace. Back then, I was depressed.

Also, there was something slightly identifying in some of my screenshots. Someone would have to do some serious sleuthing to do anything with it, but still. Lol

I don’t want anyone to be able to contact my “family” who this is about.



I have been carrying something heavy that no one knows.

Multiple occasions, I tried to share this and just couldn’t bring myself. But I can’t keep it inside anymore.

I finally asked for help and feel a weight has been lifted off of my whole body. I did not even realize how heavy it was until it lifted.

I am so happy and light, it’s just amazing. I knew to an extent how much suffering alone was affecting me, but not just how much until I finally reached out for help.

I haven’t even received help yet and already feel a sense of being empowered, just at the prospect. And I did have the opportunity to share my experience with a professional person before I visit in person.

My appointment is later this month.

There was a point, just a year ago, where I felt this situation was not compatible with life. And, if you read this, you’ll understand why.

I want my side out there. I want my voice heard.

I feared that if I shared this, people may see it as a reflection of me, like if someone is doing this to me there must be a reason for it. Like maybe I deserve it. Because who would do this to someone for literally no reason? It’s not uncommon for people to think if we are the target of abuse or assault, we did something to “deserve” it. But that’s not the case. No one deserves this.

I am being badly abused. Every day. It has been going on for years. There are almost no breaks.

I live with severe domestic violence, and no one knows it but me.

Last year, it reached the point where I can no longer cope. I can’t go it alone anymore. I called the National Domestic abuse hotline last Summer, and it was AI. Not a person. And it wouldn’t help me because I’m not abused by a romantic partner. As if that’s the only abuse that’s valid.

It was extremely disheartening to call for help and not only not be greeted by another human but told by a robot that my experience is not valid. And it told me it would send me a link to resources where I can get help. I clicked the link, and it was a link to their own website with the same number I contacted and was told my experience isn’t valid. What a joke.

I considered calling the suicide hotline, but I feared I would be locked away if they traced my call and tracked my location. I was involuntarily hospitalized years ago for being suicidal. They physically restrained me, took me to Court, and locked me away for weeks against my consent. So, I decided not to call, and continued to suffer alone. Also, my problem wasn’t being suicidal, it was being abused. I wanted help with the origins of the problem, not the side effect of it. I eventually came to handle it better in my mind. But the situation is still toxic.

Life did not used to be like this for me. And I miss when it wasn’t. I miss having a normal life at home. There were always toxic issues. But nothing to this extent.

The worst of it has been going on the last two years. Before that, it was manageable and mostly able to be ignored. I had a happy childhood, full of vacations & camping trips and movies and playgrounds and ice cream and toys. My dad made childhood fun. And my mom took care of me and was, overall, a loving mom (unless she was angry). This is something that escalated through the years.

My mom & sister are violent domestic abusers.

They should be on a list.

I don’t wish negative things on them, but my sister plans to get married in the future and have kids. And every good man (and even potential platonic friends) should be warned. She’s out there.

And she accuses pretty much everyone of rape, even admitted it wasn’t true in some cases. I am sorry for whatever poor bastard gets involved with her. Have fun being falsely accused of rape. Lol

She lied and told my mom she caught me watching rape movies and getting off on it in my bedroom. My mom called me a “sick fuck.” She also posted this on Facebook, said I was getting off on women screaming “Stop” and “No.”

One day, she was awake in her bedroom. I heard her. I was in my bed, watching Pippi Longstocking. And my sister ran down the steps, screaming to my mom that I woke her up blasting a rape movie and traumatized her. My mom was furious and cursing at me.

I realized that after my dad moved out a couple years ago, what he was displaying all these years was mostly reactive abuse. It was a response to my mom’s years long verbal absue of him. He became a monster (mostly to my mom), and I thought it was all him. I forgot through the years what she did to him first, because his reaction to her became so extreme that it overshadowed what she was doing all along, to both of us.

I never knew reactive abuse is a thing until he moved out and I saw what she began doing worse to me, and I began to have the same reactions as he did, after a while, except in my case, they aren’t anywhere near as toxic. When I say something to her about her being wrong, she says “That’s what he always said, you’re just like him, you’re both narcissistic assholes!” Or something of that sort. It hit me that that’s why he was reacting that way all along. Then, coincidentally, not long later, I saw a post about reactive abuse on social media. I get it now. He eventually put her in her place and kept her there. It was the only way to stop her. Then, he looked like the monster.

When he moved out years ago, for five years, she was way worse with me then, too, and I always wondered why for those five years, she was worse with me, instead of happy to be rid of him. Now, I understand, the source of it all was her, and when he moved out, I became the target. Everything he said through the years is now happening worse to me. It always did, just worse now.



He is a toxic person, and much of what he did wasn’t justified. But as soon as he moved out two years ago, she moved right onto me, and I find myself having all the same thoughts he used to say “She comes at me and at me and at me,”

“She twists my words around to make me look bad and then argues with me,” “I’m like a lion in a cage, she just pokes me and pokes me and pokes me until I react and then I’m the bad guy,” “She constantly criticizes me for no reason.” “She constantly makes me do all her shopping.” “She has anger issues.” “She always has negative body language/tone with me for no reason.” “She’s always laughing at me.” (She always accused him of trying to control her movements and expressions and tones, and I thought he was being seriously abusive to her, but since he moved out, and she got worse with me, I see now. He was doing that because she was constantly hostile with him, just like with me. I do the same thing now. I’ll say one simple thing that is valid or reasonable, and she’ll roll her eyes or look at me like I’m disgusting. This takes a toll after a while to where you just get angry about how they’re looking at you and how the animosity seeps through their body language. )

This has been going on much longer than two years, my mom was toxic her whole life, but the worst of it was in the last couple of years. And in these last years, I began to see the whole picture more clearly.

My mom is full of rage & hate. For life itself. And it’s all unleashed onto me because I’m an easy target. The rage radiates off of her. It’s palpable. She screams and yells and curses and stomps around the house day & night, day after day, ranting & raving & raging. She throws things, crumples things up in her hands out of anger, stomps her feet, throws stuff to the floor and stomps it, making these primitive gutteral sounds of fury.

My mom cannot handle anything that is not even remotely criticism. She does Olympic medal level mental gymnastics to reach the conclusion that something is criticism against her. And then she goes off about it. And any mistake she makes is someone else’s fault, usually mine. She forgets where she set her glasses down, and it’s my fault for talking and not paying attention to where she set them. She drops a bag a cashier is handing her, after it’s already in her hand, and it’s the cashier’s fault. One day, that happened, and glass in the bag broke.

She said it was the cashier’s fault for how she handed the bag to my mom (she literally just reached out for her to take it). Then, when we got home and I was upstairs, I heard my mom downstairs telling my sister that the cashier dropped the bag and broke the glass thing my mom bought. She can take no responsibility.

Oh. And she’s a racist, too 🙃


She calls black people N***ers. (I have multiple screenshots), but only to my sister and me. No one else knows she’s a racist. She says women, even married women, who don’t want to become pregnant should “keep their legs closed, the filthy w.hores.”

The blue is my message to my mom. The grey is my mom’s message to me. The word is highlighted because I looked through old messages to find this. She’s been a racist her whole life. I used to call her out on it, but I stopped giving her the satisfaction, and just ignore it now. She liked getting a rise out of me. This message alone should be enough to confirm that my mom is as vile as I say she is. Her and my sister claim that I lie about her, that she’s such a great person and such a great mom. Welp! I’ll just leave this gem right here and let you decide for yourself lol There’s more like this, and ones of her saying women should keep their legs closed if they don’t want to get pregnant. She also called me a d*ke more than once and has referred to a few gay women that way, again, not to their faces, of course. So, yeah.


If you saw her outside, you would never know it. She’s softspoken and sweet and mild mannered-seeming. She says thank you and giggles this fake, sweet, innocent giggle and has people thinking she’s the sweetest little lady.  (She has become so angry, though, that she’s beginning to show it to others, like cashiers she gets angry at).

But within the walls of our house, she’s violent, oppressive, cruel. She screams at the dogs, says the most vicious insults about me. Says our little dog should be put down when she’s mad at him for snapping at our other dog (she’s only saying that out of anger, she wouldn’t really). She is the most vile, putrid woman you could ever meet. Not to quote Donald Trump, but “Nasty woman.” Lol

One of my cousins stopped talking to my mom because my mom lashed out at her with an abusive text message when my cousin did not talk to her that way. My mom is abusive when angry.

None of this is new, it’s just so much more extreme now, that she’s almost unrecognizable compared to what she used to be.

On my 40th b-day, my mom told me that “40 doesn’t suit you” and called me a miserable bitch as soon as I woke up. I actually wasn’t, I woke up happy and got to see my friend for breakfast. I got a free Starbucks coffee. I went for a walk in the breezy weather. I laid in bed with my dogs. But I was a “miserable bitch” and a “horrible bitch.”

She argued with me over money as soon as I woke up and argued with me about doing all her shopping. Her and my sister refused to work their whole life and depended on my dad’s and my pay to support them and then argue that I don’t bring home enough money. They do almost no house work and won’t do their own food shopping or run any of their own errands. And when I say I’m tired of it, and they have to start doing something, I’m a “horrible bitch” and an “abuser.”

My mom always tries to ruin special days and events for me. I thought it was my dad all these years. But I see after he moved out, it still happens and worse. And I remember now what she always did before he got worse.

She tried to ruin my 40th b-day. She yelled and cursed at me and slung insults. For no reason. She always finds some excuse. But I decided not to give her the power anymore. And now, I’ll have someone helping me.

I asked her to take a picture of me in my 40th b-day sash that I bought myself. It’s hard to get a full body picture, myself. And she was passive-aggressive about it. What “mother” acts like this? She seriously couldn’t take a simple picture for me, for a special occasion?

Many moms would go all out for their daughter’s special day, and would be more than happy to do something to bring them simple joy. She did absolutely nothing for me, just argued with me the second I woke up, said passive-aggressive remarks, and mumbled “happy birthday,” as if she could hardly even pretend to care.

When it’s my sister’s birthday, she’s pampered with expensive flowers, a “birthday girl” ribbon, a balloon, whatever expensive cake she wants, a bunch of gifts, stuffed animals, money, whatever she wants to order online…. Whenever it’s mine, I’m told to get my own cake or whatever they feel like throwing at me, and my sister gets me a few gifts, just out of sense of obligation. My mom couldn’t care less.

My sister at least pretends to care with the bare minimum. She did argue with me, too, though. I went out for a walk, and the very second I walked in the door, they both came at me, arguing, my mom almost yelling, calling me insults. My sister did not tell me Happy Birthday and then used the excuse that I started an argument, when it was really her & my mom who did.

They tried to ruin it for me, but I wasn’t going to let them. I had a great day. I couldn’t completely ignore them, but I engaged as little as possible and told myself to consider the source. They are vile, miserable people. And misery loves company. I wasn’t going to be its company.

Not going to keep me down ❤️


One of them (sure it’s my sister) takes and breaks my stuff when I’m out, pours my perfume in my bed. I bought myself a cute Plushie/stuffed animal, months ago, and I came home to find its throat slashed one day. And of course, neither one of them know what happened to it.

They deny that they are abusers, and they claim that I am the abuser. I have screenshots to back up some of what I say. Not the worst of it, but enough evidence. They have NOTHING on me. Just the lies they constantly tell. They use the fact that both of them agree and it’s two against one, to “confirm” I’m the problem.

And what’s funny is, my sister frequently shares memes that say, “I hope your abuser dies today.” 🤣😂

If I could, I would ghost them both so hard, for the rest of this life. But, unfortunately, that’s not an option at the moment.

I found a therapist who is just beginning to get back into work. She put her career on hold to have kids. Now that they’re older, she’s back to work.

She’s going to be leaving the center soon, she’s an intern, completing her degree now.

So I won’t be her longterm client, which is actually good. I don’t feel I need longterm therapy. I can just use a few sessions to learn some coping techniques and get my voice heard.

She’s a mom and specializing in relationships, so I feel that she’ll be a good fit. As a mom herself, she’ll automatically see that what I experience with my own mom, is not normal. She may understand it in a firsthand way almost, because she knows what normal and healthy relationship she has with her own kids, and she has professional experience as well. It would be good if she has basic knowledge of cults/mind control & sociopathic tendencies. Because I believe that’s what’s going on here.

She sent me a form and asked me to explain my situation in-depth.

I’m so thankful for the chance to send it in writing first because I am much better in writing than talking.

So, it will already be on record for her to get much of the whole picture.

It’s kind of long, but I’m going to share here. I’ll copy & paste what I sent my therapist. They wanted as much details as possible, and I am thankful for that because I’m very detail oriented.

Here is exactly what I sent my (temporary) therapist (I censored my sister’s name so that no one can potentially find her and tell her any of this. I would probably be m.ur.dered, and they would probably say it was one of the dolls):

I live with my mom and sister, and they have frequent and unprovoked/easily provoked blowups/outbursts directed at me. They curse at me and argue with me and find problems with me, almost regularly, for the most trivial things or things that aren’t even wrong. It’s constant, unnecessary criticism.

And when I tell them it’s unnecessary, they call me a “narcissist” who can’t handle criticism, even though I say it’s frequent, unnecessary & disproportionate criticism that is the problem, not criticism that really is warranted. Everyone needs criticism, occasionally, but this is constant and unnecessary.

They sling vicious insults at me. I’m called things like a “piece of shit” and a “stupid fuck” and “trash,” and “a freak,” just for accidentally knocking something over or forgetting to do something, or even for things they accuse me of that aren’t true. My mom has called me scum before and other abusive insults just for spilling something, or for things my sister lied about. I never talk this way to them.

Any mistake I make or a perceived mistake by them, they attack my whole character or personality, instead of seeing it as just a mistake anyone can make. Anything I do that they don’t like, even if it’s not wrong or nothing that bad, I’m automatically a terrible person. They call me “shit for a person,” simply for being later than I said I would be for something, and any other petty mistakes.

My mom tells me my hobbies and interests are ridiculous and tells me anything I think or feel is ridiculous. Anything I say about myself, she denies it. If I say I always do something, she tells me I never do. If I say I’m working late, she accuses me of lying and being out just for fun.

If I say I’m good at something, she tells me I’m not. If there’s something I like about myself, she tries to tear it down. If I have an insecurity about something, she tries to fuel it.

She tells me my job is nothing and that it’s a job any lazy person can do and that it’s not even work. She tells me I did nothing with my life, just as an insult. When she tells me I did nothing with my life and I tell her I work, she automatically accuses me of being arrogant and trying to “rub it in” that her and my sister don’t have a job. When my point was just to say I do actually do something with my life, because she says I don’t. They take everything I actually say and intentionally misinterpret it or put an absurd spin on it, to make me look ridiculous or wrong.

My mom tells me no one likes me, and when I mention people who like me, she says it’s only because I’m fake and that if I showed them my real self, they wouldn’t like me.

When I say it’s wrong to talk to me this way, my sister & mom call me a narcissist or too touchy or tell me I deserve to be talked to that way. When I say I don’t do any of this toxic stuff to them, that they do to me, my mom says things like “Well good for you, do you want a medal or a cookie?” When my point was that it shouldn’t happen to me. I cannot reason with either of them because I only get mocked or lashed out at or told it never happened. My mom mimics my voice when I tell her what she does is wrong. She’ll say exactly what I say and use a baby voice, to mock me. She’s 64 years old.

They often deny any of it happened. They do things in front of my face, like throw something, then literally a second later, say it never happened and that I’m either a liar or crazy and imagining it. It’s impossible to address anything they do because they just deny it ever happened.

The lying with them is extreme. It’s abnormal lying. It’s lying that has no “rules” anymore. People usually lie only when the other person did not actually see/hear it and can’t know for certain. Even lying has “rules” or a reasonable aspect to it. But their lying is beyond typical lying.

They do and say stuff directly in front of or to me and then claim it never happened. I don’t have this problem anywhere else, with anyone else. I have a job and a volunteer job and a couple friends I meet up with, and no one else tells me I’m crazy and imagining things or lying or mis-remembering.

Most of this happens in person, but sometimes I have screenshots to prove something they tell me I’m crazy or lying about, to show that I’m right and not “crazy,” and then they call me a “freak” for having screenshots or saving messages. But it’s impossible to work out a problem when someone denies that it ever happened.

There’s like no reference point to work on anything because according to them, it doesn’t exist. Even if they admitted something but defended themselves on it, I can at least try to work with that and come to a solution or something. But when they deny it ever happens, there’s no conversation to take place. And that’s just it, I have to drop it.

They manipulate and control me. They threaten to break or throw away my stuff when I’m at work, and they threaten to throw me out if I don’t do favors for them. They make me go get their food & snacks every single day and run all their errands, and if I have to work late or say I’m going out and can’t do their shopping, they tell me I’m “withholding” and “starving” them, even though they are able-bodied, mentally competent adults, who have full access to my bank account & venmo account. I don’t drive, and they make me carry so much stuff home in bags for them, almost every day.

They make me bring bottles of soda and food and anything else they want. When I say it’s injuring my back and neck, they call me a liar and selfish and say I just don’t want to help them. We live very close to the stores, but they won’t leave the house to get their own stuff. Some mornings, my mom makes me go to a store for her and then more stores for her and my sister later in the evening. If I don’t, I have consequences.

If I refuse to do excessive things they ask me, I get insults and cursed at, or find my perfume poured into my bed or my stuff broken or missing, or my phone chargers cut. They both deny it was them and tell me I’m just losing my mind or that a ghost must have done it.

Or they tell me that maybe one of their dolls took it or broke it because I made the doll angry (They’re doll collectors, and they believe the dolls are haunted & conscious). No one else is in our house. I’m certain it’s my sister doing this.

Every single thing I tell them is toxic about them, they say it’s really true about me. I generally have to stay silent to avoid worse problems with them. But they always find an excuse for an argument or blowup, and it’s always them together against me.

My mom intentionally tries to provoke me to get a reaction, and when she finally gets a reaction, she calls me a narcissist who is harassing her, or calls me crazy. She starts arguments with me as I’m walking out the door or before important events. I used to think it was a coincidence, that something always happened to fall into her lap right then, then I realized it’s intentional, so that I have to walk out shaken up and wondering if it will continue when I get home.

My dad used to say he was like a “lion in a cage,” that my mom would “poke and poke and poke” until he reacted and then he was the “bad guy,” and now she does that to me since he moved out. She used to laugh at him and mock him and say “Oh yeah, you’re a lion,” about his analogy. And she does the exact same to me when I try to explain what she’s doing.

My mom & sister start arguments with me at night, so I have to go to bed shaken and stressed. But it’s all one-sided arguments because I’m not allowed to say my side. If I ever speak up, they scream at me or tell me to shut up, or they talk over me.

Anything that goes wrong, my mom takes it out on me, even when it’s nothing to do with me. If it’s not explicit insults, it’s passive aggressive remarks, and just hostile body language and facial expressions and a cold tone. When I tell her that she’s just always negative with me, that her body language and expressions and tone are antagonistic and cold for no reason, she tells me I’m trying to control how she is.

When she says vicious insults about me and I say it’s wrong, she tells me that’s how she talks and that I’m trying to change who she is and control her, instead of acknowledging that it’s toxic to me.

My mom & sister are severely verbally/emotionally abusive, and they refuse to listen to how it affects me. They tell me I’m exaggerating or lying or that I deserve it and make them do that. Or they laugh at and mock me and say I’m “too touchy.” I tell them what they’re doing is abuse, and they laugh together and say things like “Poor Kim, you’re a poor little abuse victim.”

It’s frequent middle-school-style bullying.

Then, they use my reaction to their abuse against me, to “confirm” that I’m the true problem. They say whatever they want to me or about me, and then they won’t let me talk or say my side. I have to take everything they throw at me and be silent, or they accuse me of harassment.

I’m looking for ways to cope with that and be less affected by it, because at the moment, none of us can change our living situation. The toxic family situation is not new, but through the years, it worsens to where it’s hard to live with sometimes.

My sister is very unhealthy, emotionally. She was since she was a child. She’s almost 30 years old. She has the intellectual ability of someone her age, but she throws fits like a toddler when she doesn’t get her way. She uses her health conditions as a form of manipulation.

She was manipulative since she was a child in ways no kid would even know how to be.

Since childhood, she threatened to kill herself or run away or take drugs or tell vicious lies about us if we did not do what she wanted, like take her to a playground or buy her things she demanded. My mom never got her help. She was a child, threatening suicide, and my mom let it slide. She would tell her not to tell my dad. And when my dad did find out, they wouldn’t let him get her help.

My sister has always threatened me. She’s 10+ years younger than me but tried to control me her whole life. She would threaten to lie to my boss and say I was stealing off the company or stealing off clients, unless I did what she wanted. She threatened to call my therapist back then and lie and say I was “going off.”

She threatened to lie and say my dad sexually abused her, when she got angry at him. She threatened to tell my friends I said things about them that I never said. She threatened to lie and tell people I abused her. She recently threatened that she’s going to “make my life hell.” When I tell her what she does is wrong, she breaks down and sobs hysterically and calls me an abuser, and my mom yells at me and agrees with her.

She did this since childhood. She controlled my mom, dad, and me. But, especially my mom. My dad is also very toxic and was less easy to control, so she mostly kept it to just my mom and me. I stopped falling for it, and now, my sister has resentment for me for not doing everything she wants.

She threatens to lie and tell people I abuse her and that I’m a narcissist. She posts this stuff publicly on Facebook, and I ignore it. She knows she can do this with no consequences. But just once, I shared a meme about verbal abusers on Facebook and said I have family like this. I did not name anyone.

My mom & sister saw it and knew it was about them, and they had a blowup on me for talking about them on Facebook, even though I never said it was them. I still don’t hear the end of it. But my sister lies frequently about me on Facebook, where I can see it. I can’t share my side, or I’ll have to suffer the consequences. But my sister knows there’s no consequences for saying anything to or about me.

It got worse the older she got. I had surgery a couple years ago, for example, and my sister wanted my oxy pills. She doesn’t have a drug problem, she claimed she had a headache. I said no, and she had a breakdown and was yelling and cursing at me and said she would kill herself if I did not give her the pills. She told me it would be my fault if she kills herself.

My mom began screaming and cursing at me, along with her, and told me my sister is going to kill herself if I don’t give her my pills, and that it will be my fault if she does.

They were yelling vicious insults about me. Finally, to stop the yelling and cursing and insults and threats, I gave her my pills. Instantly, as if a switch was flipped, they calmed down and were laughing together and talking to me, like nothing happened. I was still angry and anxious and stressed, while they were already over it, like nothing. It wasn’t normal.

Emotions don’t just change in a second, especially intense emotions. She was threatening to die by suicide, and two seconds later, after she got her way, they’re both there laughing and talking and having a light-hearted conversation. They tell me that the fact that I’m still angry about something later, even mere minutes later, is me “not dropping things” and me “dragging something on” and “harassing” them. I never get to say my side or explain or defend myself.

This is just one example of what happens almost regularly in my house.

My sister demands us to come out of the bathroom when she wants to get in there and says it’s our fault if she gets a uti if we don’t come out. If I’m in a shower and don’t come right out, they both scream at me and call me a “psychopath” who wants my sister to get a uti. My mom literally jumps off the toilet when my sister bangs on the door and demands it. My sister is only doing this to control and get what she wants, when she wants it.

She uses the excuse that she has stomach issues or gets utis and has special needs that she should get in the bathroom right when she needs it. That could be a valid situation in some cases, but with my sister, it’s all about control & entitlement. It’s a pattern.

My dad is also a toxic person, but not as toxic to me as they are. Him and my mom never got along. She has a lot of pent up anger because of him. He moved out around two years ago, and as soon as he moved out, my mom’s verbal abuse got worse with me. It’s like she moved onto me once he was gone. I’m an easy target for her anger.

When my mom is angry, she becomes vicious and cruel in ways she isn’t when she’s not angry. Through the years, she has become frequently angry, so she’s frequently vicious now.

It began as me being an easy target, and then took on a life of its own. It’s like I’m her punching bag now. It’s as if she has an at-home gym where she goes to blow off steam whenever she feels like, and goes wild on a punching bag, and I’m that human punching bag. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it. When I try, it only makes it worse.

Everyday, she comes at me as much as she can. I’m often not home, but it’s when I am home. It’s in the mornings as I’m leaving for work, and at night when I get home. I mostly stopped texting her during the days because it was happening in messages.

She could never do this to my sister or dad because they would do worse back to her. I don’t. So, she learned that she can unleash it all onto me, with no consequences to herself.

I had a therapist years ago who said, by what I described, my mom displays displaced & disproportionate anger. She suggested I talked to my mom about it, but my mom wouldn’t accept she can do anything wrong. My mom becomes furious when she’s told she’s wrong. She’s still like that now. When I told her what my therapist said, she said she doesn’t care what “some quack” thinks of her. Now, she’s much worse than back then.

My mom is also abusive in more subtle ways that, on the surface, or in isolated cases, my not seem that bad, but all adds up. She’s regularly passive-aggressive, in just mundane interactions. Most interactions with her, even in messages, leave me drained or anxious or in turmoil, even if I can’t pinpoint exactly why. After paying closer attention, I realized she does subtle things on purpose to get at me.

My sister dropped out of school on the first day of 9th grade, and my mom never homeschooled her. My mom always took care of our basic physical needs and bought us anything we wanted, but when I got to be an adult, I realized my mom was very neglectful in other ways, particularly with my sister.

I had some basic rules, growing up. But my sister did not. I don’t have kids, but I understand that kids need guidelines or rules, and they have to have some kind of age-appropriate accountability when they break them.

My mom never set rules or boundaries or encouraged my sister to work at having a future in terms of money or work. My sister had no bedtime growing up, nothing was off limits. She was allowed to watch and eat anything she wanted, whenever she wanted. She refused to go to elementary school unless my mom did volunteer work there. My mom volunteered there til my sister graduated. My sister went to middle school, and then never went to high school.

When my sister did wrong, she either wasn’t told or was told about it and would have meltdowns and then was told it was ok after that, that she wasn’t wrong, just to calm her down.

My dad was around, but he never had a say in anything back then. My mom had the final say, and her philosophy was that my sister could do what she wanted, when she wanted, with no consequences.

And now the consequences of that are severe, as an adult. My sister is beyond entitled. She doesn’t function like an adult, even though cognitively or intellectually, she is adult age. Emotionally, she’s like three years old.

My sister never got a GED. She has an 8th grade education. My mom has no problem with that, but she does have a problem with my low pay and my job she calls “shitty” and “nothing.”

My mom never had any true problems with me. I was a very easy kid, I never gave her problems as a teenager or young adult. I went to school and work. I contribute, financially. She has no reason to have the resentment for me that she does. It’s all because I’m an easy target. And it’s regularly and intentionally fueled by my sister. My mom is like my sister’s puppet. My sister tries to control me through my mom.

My mom hasn’t worked in 40 years. She chose not to.

They both refuse to work or even get government assistance because they don’t want to leave the house. They depend on my pay and some of my dad’s social security money he gives us to help out. And they say it’s my fault we don’t have enough money because I did “nothing” with my life and have a “shitty job.”

They almost never leave the house, and they refuse to socialize with anyone. My mom wasn’t always that way, she had friends. But my sister isolated her, through the years. I used to think it was my dad isolating my mom, but I realized it’s my sister. My sister wants my mom only to herself.

They have no life outside of each other and no opinions or personality outside of each other. They disagree on nothing, and anything I tell my mom, she tells my sister, even if I ask her not to. My mom refuses to text me unless it’s in a group chat with my sister. But they have their own chat without me.

My sister has to oversee every single message my mom and me send to each other. She’s that controlling of my mom.

If my mom even hints at disagreeing with my sister on anything at all, or won’t do something she wants, my sister will scream and threaten all night long.

It’s an extreme pathological bond. It’s not normal for anyone, not even a romantic couple. They don’t exist without each other. It’s like they’re the same person.

My sister won’t go to any of her doctor or dentist appointments without my mom. At almost 30 years old.

They also share the same delusions with no basis. For example, they are both convinced that a friend I had in college, years ago, a young woman, was going to kidnap me and sell me into human trafficking. There is literally no basis for this. She was Brazilian, so they came up with this racist delusion.

They also held other strange delusions, through the years, including that my sister’s doctors were conspiring against them, doctors who did not even know each other. These are things that no reasonable person would believe. And somehow, both of them happen to believe the delusion.

This may just be a hobby, I’m not sure if this is pathological or just a different belief system/interest, but they share a doll collection, and they both truly believe the dolls walk around when no one can see and that the dolls communicate with them and tell them things.

They use crystals and pendulums and “magic” wands. But they both literally believe all this and that the dolls are telling them the same thing. They believe the dolls get angry at me on their behalf. They don’t have any separate beliefs. They don’t question or doubt each other, ever. And the source of it is my sister. If my sister said she saw a real zombie in her bedroom, my mom would believe it.

They’re like a two-person cult. It’s triggered by my sister. I realized recently that the root of all this is my sister. I had a therapist years ago, before my sister and mom were this bad, who said what I was describing about them is “emotional incest,” but it’s much worse than that. It’s brainwashing. It’s legit brainwashing, not something said as an insult or loosely. My sister brainwashed my mom.

My therapist years ago thought my mom was the one coercing my sister into it. But it was my sister all along. Back then, I did not understand the situation or the underlying phenomenon.

As a teenager & younger adult, my sister & mom would have shouting matches, regularly, every single night. My sister would have blowups every night about all of her problems, and would demand my mom to listen to her and try to fix her problems.

It was an every night thing that would last hours. It was our normal. It never involved me. It was my mom and sister, and then my dad would involve himself and make it even worse. My sister and dad would have blowups that would trigger each other’s. It was usually taken out on my mom.

Back then, my mom was not as vicious with me because she was getting her anger out on my sister. Eventually, the shouting matches got less & less. My mom would compliment her and buy her flowers and gifts and do constant favors for her, to keep her calm.

Then, the pathological bond began to develop to an extreme, and my mom’s anger was directed more at me. It got worse after my dad moved out, two years ago. The better my mom & sister get along, the worse my mom is with me.

For many years, I was confused about the source of this whole toxic family situation. I used to think the main culprit was my dad because his voice was the loudest and his toxic ways, most explicit. But when he moved out, it got even worse. I realized he was a problem, but not the main problem.

I began to consciously pay attention during interactions and see exactly what’s going on. And I thought back to all the issues through the years and realized my sister is the underlying problem. My mom has toxic traits of her own that I think are innate. She used to verbally abuse my dad before he became worse abusive to her as a result.
But my sister is the main instigator of the main problem here.

My mom used to have a personality outside of my sister, and we used to get along well enough. She was always toxic in some ways, but not this extreme. She used to say when my sister was wrong, and my mom had her own mind. My sister took over my mom’s whole person. My mom is not allowed to agree with me on anything, or my sister has outbursts and says we’re against her. Then, my mom will change her mind and agree with my sister.

This was not always the case to this extent, but there was always a hint of it. My mom always had to give into what my sister demanded, since she was a toddler. The difference is, my mom knew what was happening. She knew my sister was being controlling and wrong. She used to tell me all the things my sister did and how her life would be easier without my sister and that she felt like she had a toddler still.

She used to defend me against my sister and tell my sister she was wrong when my sister did something to me. Now, she supports everything my sister does to me. She goes along with her and encourages it.

Gradually, through the years, my mom stopped realizing what my sister is doing and is now devoted to my sister. It’s like Stockholm syndrome. She traumatized my mom into worshipping her and being devoted to her, unconditionally. My mom knows she gets rewarded the more affection and agreement she shows my sister and “punished” if she goes against her. But it’s not conscious anymore.

She literally says my sister can do no wrong. And if I say my sister did something wrong, my mom yells and curses at me, and yells “Don’t you dare say anything bad about her, you fucking bitch, she does nothing wrong!!” Or she just tells me to shut up and refuses to listen. Then, she goes back and tells my sister what I said about her. Then, my stuff goes missing or gets broken when I’m at work.

If my mom or me are using the microwave and my sister wants to use it, my sister wants us to stop using it and take our food out before it’s done so she can use it. My mom listens. My mom will stop the microwave and take her food or coffee out before it’s done, and lets my sister use the microwave. I don’t.

And I get called vicious insults for it and get lies told about me or accused of untrue things, like that I’m taking longer on purpose just to make my sister wait. Or my sister will say her depression was triggered because I wouldn’t let her use the microwave as soon as she wanted and that if she kills herself, it will be my fault. Then, she goes on Facebook and writes that I’m a monster and a domestic abuser. And I can’t defend myself or explain my side.

My sister makes my mom make her food if it’s something not microwaved, throws her trash around the floor and makes my mom pick it up. If she wants something, upstairs, my mom has to go up and get it for her and bring it down to her. My mom has to make all her doctor and dentist appointments. My mom has to wash my sister’s clothes.

And I have to pick up my sister’s prescriptions and do all her food shopping or any paperwork she needs done.

There is nothing wrong with my sister that she can’t do this. She’s just entitled. My sister does nothing but watch movies all day, while my mom and me do everything she needs. And she’s almost 30 years old. My mom sees nothing wrong with this anymore. She used to say my sister was running her ragged.

When I speak up about it now, after years of saying nothing about it, I’m told I’m abusing my sister and trying to make her feel low about her life and that I’m arrogant.

I used to think my sister was just spoiled and overly sensitive. Now, I understand it’s way worse than that. She’s manipulative & abusive. I’m not qualified to diagnose, but I think she has sociopathic tendencies. I even saw her seriously injure herself before, without her knowing I saw, just so she can tell my mom I left my scissors out and she “fell” onto them, simply so my mom would be angry at me.

She stabbed herself deeply in the leg. She went running and screaming to my mom that I carelessly left my scissors out and that she fell onto them. My mom came yelling and cursing at me and calling me insults. She wouldn’t believe that I saw my sister stab herself with something she already had with her, not my scissors. My mom called me a liar. She automatically believed my sister.

And there is no physical or logical way those scissors would have been able to even scratch her. I set them up how they were and lightly touched them with my fingertip, and they fell back. They could never have deeply cut anyone.

My sister wants me to have a toxic relationship with our mom and her and my mom have a perfect one. She will lie about me right in front of me to my mom. And my mom will believe her. She’ll tell my mom I said an insult about her or that I knocked something over, when it never happened. And my mom will yell and curse at me or say something vicious about me.

And when my mom turns around and can’t see, my sister will smirk at me, to let me know she got something over on me. My sister and me both know what’s going on, but my mom won’t see it. My sister is consciously controlling and enslaving her and using her against me.

My sister lies frequently about me to my mom, just to have my mom angry at me or defending my sister against me.

And my sister will thank her for defending her against me. She says “Thank you, Mommy, I love you Mommy.” And will secretly smirk at me. And my mom responds “You’re welcome, sweetie, I love you too, sweetie,” both in extremely sweet, fake voices.

My sister makes herself child-like, but it’s completely fake. She knows what she’s doing, my mom doesn’t anymore. But I think on some level, she does still know.

She spends money excessively, and my mom allows it. She used to not let my sister spend too much, but my sister would blow up on her & threaten until she got her way. She would accuse my mom of intentionally triggering her depression or eating disorder. Now, she does that to me. My mom began to just allow anything my sister wants.

My sister would be excessively sweet to my mom, intentionally, to get a positive reaction. My mom used to recognize what was happening and doesn’t anymore. When I try explaining, she either gets furious, or laughs at me, depending upon her mood. But she always denies it.

Eventually, my mom stopped resisting and dedicates her life to my sister. She even talks to my sister in a fake, sweet tone, that’s forced. But, I don’t think she realizes anymore that she’s doing this. Rarely, she will tell my sister “no,” and my sister yells & sobs and threatens, like before, so my mom gives in. My sister always had blowups into the night, mostly directed at my mom, unless she got her way.

A few months ago, my sister demanded to spend $400 that we needed for bills & food. My mom, for once, said no. My sister screamed all night and threatened to kill herself, until my mom let her spend it. I said we need that for bills & food, and my mom & sister both began yelling & cursing at me and calling me a narcissistic abuser who just wanted to make my sister feel low about herself. Even though just minutes before that, my mom said the same thing to my sister.

My sister claims she has multiple identities/alters/personalities living in her body. I have never seen any real signs of this. And she says it’s my fault. She pretends to be a different personality when she doesn’t get her way or is told she’s wrong, and she loses track of what she’s even doing.

Her name is ****, and she’ll be pretending to be a different personality talking about herself, and she’ll say “I told you to stop doing this to me,” then she’ll correct herself and say “I mean,**** told you to stop doing this to her!”

Clearly, it’s fake, when she’s making mistakes like that. She’ll do or say something and then later tell me it was one of the “alters” and that she shouldn’t be accused because it wasn’t her fault if they did something wrong in her body.

I tried bringing all this up during arguments when everyone is angry. And I tried bringing it up later when everyone is calm.

I tried bringing the issue up in a calm manner, and I tried bringing it up in an angry, snippy tone. I tried putting it in writing, and talking about it in person. But no matter what, nothing gets through to them. No matter how or when I try to explain how toxic this all is, it doesn’t get through. They get defensive or mock me.

They tell me I’m just having “personal issues” or that my real problem is with something or someone else and that I’m just taking it out on them. Or they tell me I’m lying or exaggerating or that I deserve it. They tell me they do nothing at all wrong.

Recently, when I was leaving for work, I told my mom that my mental health is being affected and asked if we can go for a walk together later and talk about how what her and my sister does, affects me and how we can all work on it together, to stop it and make it better for all of us.

And her response was “I’m not going anywhere with you, we don’t do anything to you, get the hell out of here.” So, I had to just walk out for work with nothing solved.

There is no working through this with them or getting through to them. They are not normal or rational people, and they never will be, especially my sister. And as long as my sister has this hold on my mom, my mom will never, ever see it, or even try to understand.

So, I have to learn how to coexist with it and manage it in my own mind while it’s going on.

Last Summer, the effect on me was so severe that I developed a prominent twitching in my upper lip when I would be walking home and know I have to see them, or when I would walk down the steps in my house, knowing they were there in the living room and I would have to walk by them.

And I developed an intense burning in my abdomen that felt like my stomach acid burning a hole through the lining. My heart was having palpitations. I told them this was happening as a result of what they’re doing to me, and they laughed at me and said I was making myself out to be a “poor little victim.” They both laughed hysterically at me. And my mom sarcastically, to be dismissive, said “Oh sure you have heart palpitations.” To imply that I don’t.

I learned to cope better and stopped the physical effects. But I would like more ideas on how to live with it.

I can explain & express myself better and remember details better in writing, so I tried to explain in-depth here so it will be easier to remember & talk about in person during my appointment. I wouldn’t be able to remember as many details when I’m talking in person.

**********

That’s the whole message my therapist received, so she’ll know all this already when I get to my first appointment. That is so helpful. I’m glad they set it up that way.

I actually asked for help a while ago, but I wasn’t getting anywhere. Whenever I found a therapist or therapy place and read about it or talked to them on the phone, they were either too expensive, virtual (I don’t want that), just not vibing with me, or there were no spots available.

Someone I talked to about it before, sent me the bio of a therapist who is taking on one more patient before she leaves in a few months. That sounds perfect to me as I don’t feel I really need a therapist other than this problem.

I think it can be resolved in a few sessions. I want my side heard and to maybe get some tips to cope with it in my own mind since there is NO CHANCE of the situation getting better. I have to count on my own mind to just handle it.

I read her bio, and I think she’ll be great. I’m glad I found her, and it feels I already have an ally in my corner who is committed to listening to understand my side.

This abuse is pernicious. It’s done in a way that’s clever and more difficult to call out. It’s carefully crafted to make it look like it could all be me and have me doubting myself and asking myself if I’m really just being petty and overreacting. My gut has always known I’m not. Then, I paid attention and thought it through and then saw social media posts about abuse & abusers like this. Sometimes whole families against one. And I understand now. They claim I’m the abuser and toxic person.

If I am the abuser, then why are my sister’s Facebook posts about me public, where I can see? An abuser would knock her head off for that. Why does my post have to have certain people blocked off it, but hers can be public?

Because I’m the one who would suffer the consequences of holding an abuser accountable. How ironic that I am the one called a narcissistic abuser, yet they can say whatever they want to and about me, right in front of me, with no consequences. And I have to keep everything in or suffer the wrath.

I see people in person and in movies refusing to accept something that is not even a fraction of the mistreatment I endure. That’s when I am reminded how bad it really is. When I see people calling out mistreatment that is nothing next to this because they know it’s wrong. And I’m expected to believe what happens to me is ok and that I deserve it (when I’m not being told it never happened).

I have a happy life outside of this. I have a fulfilling job and volunteer job. I have hobbies & interests, friends, and my pets. I have my health and events I attend. This makes it easier to cope with.

So, here is my side and my voice.

And, I hope anyone else out there struggling in silence like this, will read this, and recognize it as abuse and understand what is happening to them is wrong. It’s not ok. It’s not “just the way they are.” You are not overreacting. You’re not “too sensitive.” Your reactions and emotions are valid. You are not the problem. They’ll have you feeling like you are and doubting yourself and feeling petty. They are serious abusers.

They are no better than the husband who walks through the door and batters his wife and slaps her around.

You are seen and heard and understood here in my space. 💚

(It’s possible I may add to this post later, but I do have another, much longer version. Sometimes, I edit my posts later, when I think of more to add)

Xoxo Kim

Found & Lost 🖤 {poem I wrote}

Random picture of me ❤️

Found & Lost 🖤

The skyscrapers
Seemed to rise especially high
On the evening I first found her
Kissing passion into the sky
As if it were their queen
Worshipped
And drowned
In pure adoration

Stars dappled the sky as night continued
Like silvery kisses scattered about
All through the night
No match for the light
In her amber eyes
As they lit up with that same passion the stars did
But were more intense

The city came to life
In the sticky Summer air
Laughter and chit chat echoed through the streets
As people made their way to restaurants and clubs and bars and bowling alleys
And traffic sped throughout the streets
And the city lights twinkled
Like lost songs
Playing among the stars

I felt each symphony
Deep into my bones

Finding her felt like home
There was a sense of impending exulansis seeping into my skin
As I watched her move like the wind
And become the night
Knowing then I would forever
Be marked
By a thing that escapes words
Leaving only traces
Of something unidentifiable
Traveling up my spine
And lingering on my supple flesh
Seeping into the pores and tissue
Penetrating bone
Becoming a permanent part of me
No less essential than my very dna

An echo of an ethereal kind of beauty
Not of this dimension
Perfumes all of my nights
As my mind drifts back
To that moment
I laid eyes on her
Taking in every curve of her body
Imagining the softness of her skin
Beneath my fingertips

Devouring her intoxicating beauty
With the kind of primitive greed
Of someone trapped in a desert
For too long, dying of thirst and suddenly finding a creek of sapphire blue or emerald green, glistening in the dark of night

And there are hints of that sense of belonging
Still dwelling in a place in me
I can’t recognize
Along with that aching burn of rejection
Sinking deeper and deeper into the belly
Into a seemingly endless abyss of suffocating sorrow

Suddenly I blinked
And she was lost
In that one infinitesimal moment
Ripped out of my arms
By the rapacious hands of reality
As my seemingly perpetual daydream came to an end
And I woke up into the harshness
Of what is true
Reverie shattered by a truth
I was never ready or willing to accept
A truth that burns in me with the passion of a thousand suns in the middle of an August afternoon
In the Northern Hemisphere

Now I stand
On a sticky Summer night
That takes me back
To that day I found her
When the skyscrapers seemed
A tad taller, and the stars shone a bit
brighter

Perfumed in that inexplicable beauty
That still leaves traces
Throughout my existence
And I taste the silvery
Kiss of the stars
As I catch them in my eyes

Hints of wonder
In the midst of a deep longing
For a thing that existed
Only in my fantasies
But was the realest thing
I have ever known

🖤

Found & Lost 🖤 {poem I wrote}

(That dark spot under my eye is a sunspot/beauty mark/freckle…I had for many years now lol In some pictures, like this one, it doesn’t look right. But I don’t want to filter it out because it’s part of my face in reality)

Found & Lost 🖤

The skyscrapers
Seemed to rise especially high
On the evening I first found her
Kissing passion into the sky
As if it were their queen
Worshipped
And drowned
In pure adoration

Stars dappled the sky as night continued
Like silvery kisses scattered about
All through the night
No match for the light
In her amber eyes
As they lit up with that same passion the stars did
But were more intense

The city came to life
In the sticky Summer air
Laughter and chit-chat echoed through the streets
As people made their way to restaurants and clubs and bars and bowling alleys
And traffic sped through the streets
And the city lights twinkled
Like lost songs
Playing among the stars

I felt each symphony
Deep into my bones

Finding her felt like home
There was a sense of impending exulansis seeping into my skin
As I watched her move like the wind
And become the night
Knowing then I would forever
Be marked
By a thing that escapes words
Leaving only traces
Of something unidentifiable
Traveling up my spine
And lingering on my supple flesh
Seeping into the pores and tissue
Penetrating bone
Becoming a permanent part of me
No less essential than my very dna

An echo of an ethereal kind of beauty
Not of this dimension
Perfumes all of my nights
As my mind drifts back
To that moment
I laid eyes on her
Taking in every curve of her body
Imagining the softness of her skin
Beneath my fingertips

Standing intoxicated
Devouring her beauty
With the kind of primitive greed
Of someone trapped in a desert
For too long, dying of thirst and suddenly finding a creek of sapphire blue or emerald green, glistening in the dark of night

And there are hints of that sense of belonging
Still dwelling in a place in me
I can’t recognize
Along with that aching burn of rejection
Sinking deeper and deeper into the belly
Into a seemingly endless abyss of suffocating sorrow

Suddenly I blinked
And she was lost
In that one infinitesimal moment
Ripped out of my arms
By the rapacious hands of reality
As my seemingly perpetual daydream came to an end

And I woke up into the harshness
Of what is true
Reverie shattered by a truth
I was never ready or willing to accept
A truth that burns in me with the passion of a thousand suns in the middle of an August afternoon
In the Northern Hemisphere

Now I stand
On a sticky Summer night
That takes me back
To that day I found her
When the skyscrapers seemed
A tad taller, and the stars shone a bit
brighter

Perfumed in that inexplicable beauty
That still leaves traces of her
Throughout my existence
And I taste the silvery
Kiss of the stars
As I catch them in my eyes

Hints of wonder
In the midst of a deep longing
For a thing that existed
Only in my fantasies
But was the realest thing
I have ever known

🖤

Xoxo Kim

Two Years!! 💚🫘💙

💙💚

“To save one life, it’s as if you saved the world.”

(Content warning ⚠️: There’s a picture of a human kidney in this post at the end lol)

January 16th.

My favorite day of the year! The one day a year where it’s still appropriate for me to brag years later 😆 To everyone else, it’s old news now, but, to me, it never gets old lol

Each day leading up to 1/16, I can’t wait. It’s like having two birthdays, except even better. I even buy myself a cake and gift to celebrate the best thing I ever did.

On 1/16/2024, I donated one of my kidneys to a stranger.

It was my calling and lifelong dream.

It was a gift given out of love for my fellow human & sentient being without care about what person were to receive it. The less suffering in the world, the better.

I knew the potential benefits to a recipient outweigh the rare potential short-term & long-term risks to myself. And even if I were to experience one, at least it’s because I tried to help someone.  I could never regret it (Unless I find out he’s a Cowboys fan 😆 JK, I always have to throw that joke in somewhere, I even wrote it in my thank you letter to my transplant team lol)

My decision was inspired by a true story I read many years before, about a man who donated his kidney to an anonymous stranger. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I ever read, to give a literal piece of himself to save another.

I instantly knew I would do the same one day. Almost two decades later, I did! If I have more than enough of something for me, it makes complete sense to give some to someone who needs it.

Two men were saved through my one kidney donation. I volunteered to give my kidney to whoever needed it and was a match for me. It was an anonymous donation that was given to “the next person on the wait list.”

I share a set of kidneys with a 50 something year old man in Minnesota. I love to joke that I’m in two places at once and can pee for two 😆

Because I donated through the National Kidney Registry, I was given a kidney voucher to give to anyone in the country I wanted. I chose someone who wasn’t close enough to the top of the deceased wait list but was in urgent need. I did not know anyone who needed a new kidney and so gave it to another stranger I heard needed one.

He was brought into the system to receive an anonymous living donor kidney because I gave him the voucher. He got the kidney of a living person who was donating for someone who isn’t a match for that person.

My kidney voucher recipient, Greg,  received his new kidney just over a year after my non-directed donation!


Coincidentally, we live only fifteen minutes apart and are a match!

So, I was going to donate to him directly, before an anonymous recipient was chosen for me. But, he had some more work before being cleared for transplant, so I moved forward with non-directed donation.

We are now good in-person friends!

We have similar views and values and some similar interests and sense of humor. I wasn’t planning on becoming friends with either of my recipients. Just planned on helping someone and going on my way with no strings attached. But we have become good friends and turned out to have much in common!

I have no contact with the person who has the kidney I gave. Maybe one day!

I think of both of my recipients as my kidney brothers. 💙

It was and still is the most incredible thing I ever did. I had no idea the significant change it would inspire in me. A change that has become even more prominent as the years go by.

My intention was only to help someone, but in the process, it also changed me for the better.

No one else can see it on the outside, but on the inside, I am forever changed. It has become so much an ingrained & essential part of my identity that it’s like I wouldn’t even be the me I am now without this experience. Sometimes, it’s like nothing else even matters when I think of it.


It serves as a kind of buffer against the stresses and disappointments and tragedies of life. Whenever I feel something dragging me down, I remember this, and it pulls me right back up. It brings me comfort in situations where I would be inconsolable. When my depression flares up with feelings of worthlessness & insecurity, I remember my own life literally, physically, saved someone else’s, and am reminded of how powerful & valuable each life is, and I push through, knowing I can do even more good.

When I look around at all the tragedy & destruction in the world, all the hatred and wrongs and evil, I am reminded that I did the absolute best I could to counter that, by loving my fellow humans in the ultimate way there is to love: Showing them that their own life matters enough for me to risk my own to save theirs, no matter who they are.

I’m like a colorful 3d version of what used to be a grey stick figure. It made me better in a general way. Even when I’m not consciously thinking about it, I can feel it.

It’s not that I was unhappy before or anything like that, it’s just the experience added so much depth to me in a way that’s unimaginable & indescribable. But I tried my best to put it into words.

I wrote a very long (you know me with the paragraphs long essays 😆) thank you letter to my transplant team at Penn Hospital before being released as a patient recently (we stay a patient for two years after our donation surgery). They loved it.

I would like to share part of that letter here:

I used to think of living kidney donation in a limited way, that it helps someone live, and their friends and family get to still have them around. And that was motivation enough for me to regift one of mine.

But, after this experience, I began to realize it’s so much more expansive than that. Countless things are going to happen when a person’s life is saved or changed that would never happen if they weren’t saved or changed for the better. It has an unfathomable and boundless ripple effect.

That person will go on to do things that will contribute to an infinite amount of other things. They’ll do work, engage in acts of kindness, have many encounters with various people, develop relationships, maybe have kids, and those kids will do an infinite number of things, on & on. When one person is saved, their life will have a limitless impact on the world, there’s no telling how many more will be helped, touched, or saved in various ways because that one person’s life was spared.

Even way into the very distant future, the impact of our choice to donate our kidney could still be existing even if it doesn’t involve the recipient or donor anymore. This isn’t just true for organ donation but any choice we make. Any choice, good or bad, any act of kindness, can have a lasting effect we can’t foresee and may never know.

This is true for every single one of us. We all impact everything around us in ways we may never know. Each impact we have will go on to create more effects. On & on & on.

The decision we make to give life doesn’t only help our organ recipient and voucher recipient, if we have one, but every single life they go on to touch.

We have no idea how powerful our own life is, no matter who we are or what we do. Every little thing we do touches someone or something for better or for worse.

If the thread that is us was missing, the uni-verse would not be the same. Part of it would unravel. We’re all connected in an infinite amount of intricate ways we’ll never fully understand. We’re all a thread in the tapestry of life, holding each other together.

After giving my kidney to save a stranger’s life, I understand this now in a deep way I never did before. It’s so enlightening.

I love being part of the whole organ donation family and feel a sense of kinship & belonging with all the other donors, donor families, recipients, and their families.

My body “lost” a kidney, but I received so much more in return.

My kidney donation has given me this whole family, a new friend, an expanded life perspective, and most of all, the gift of seeing someone’s whole life change, dramatically, for the best.

Even though it wasn’t my intention or expectation, my experience with kidney donation truly has given me just as much as it has given those who received the gift of life out of it.

💚

That’s an “excerpt” out of my thank you letter to my healthcare team.

I dropped off a copy of it in person along with gifts, and gave six of the team members a copy, personally, the ones I worked with most closely. They were so thankful and said they were blown away!

My surgeon called me and asked for my permission to share it in a mass e-mail within the Penn network lol Of course, I said yes!

It took MANY people to come together to save the two who were saved by my kidney donation, not just me. It took their friends & family & others advocating for them and helping with resources, and all the healthcare workers involved. Both of them received a kidney not only because of me but because someone else donated a kidney also.

The man who shares my set of kidneys with me received mine because someone donated theirs for him to get mine. If it wasn’t for Greg’s family & friends sharing his need for a new kidney, that information would have never reached me.

That’s the beautiful thing about organ donation & kidney chains, it’s so life-affirming and shows just how valuable one life is, that countless people go to great lengths to save that life.

I get all the credit (lol), but, truly, we ALL played an equally crucial role. If just one of us was missing, things would be significantly different. It’s possible someone may not even be here today.

It’s a beautiful thing to be a small part of.

The scars have faded. But the joy and sense of relevance never fade no matter how much time goes by. It’s not on my mind as much as in the beginning, but it’s always with me, and when thoughts of it or reminders pop up, it’s like an instant dopamine surge. Like being in love & walking on air.

I truly, inadvertently, gave the absolute best gift to myself when I gave the gift of life to someone else.

At the end of this life, whenever it may be, this one decision alone makes my whole life a success.

I would make the same decision again & again.

I also thank my transplant team at Penn for trusting me to donate my kidney! I take the best care of my remaining kidney and am overly cautious with it. I don’t ingest anything that can hurt it without checking first and make sure to water it regularly!

I am just as healthy with one kidney as with two.

I share my story for three reasons, because it makes me happy, because it uplifts others to read/hear (who doesn’t like a good Hallmark-like story 😆), and because it brings visibility to organ donation and may hopefully inspire even just one person to become a living donor and/or register as a potential deceased donor.

There are a couple of people alive today because I read that story many years ago. If I just heard we can donate our kidney to a stranger, I may not have, I’m not sure. But reading a true story about someone, personally, who did, it made me see something in myself like that person and motivated me even years later.

You never know who you or your life may be inspiring!

I see my experience with the perspective of this amazing thing I got to experience more than look at this amazing thing I did for someone else. It’s better than I ever imagined it would be.

And two years later, it makes me even happier than when I first donated my kidney because it took a while to process and finally fully sink in, this profound & rare thing I did, because I have since become an organ donor ambassador with the Gift of Life Program in Philadelphia, bringing awareness to organ donation, and get to work with and connect with others who share my passion, and because now my kidney voucher recipient got his new kidney, and because we are now friends, which we weren’t really in the beginning.

We attend organ donation events together, living donor celebrations, do 3k walks for organ donation/kidney disease awareness…It just gets better & better.

Cheers to my kidney twin in Minnesota, and Happy Kidneyversary!! 🥂🎉🎊

Many, many more for the both of us 💚

Also, will celebrate my other kidney brother’s Kidneyversary coming up in early February!!



“He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.”

💙🫘💚

Xoxo Kim

A letter to my organ transplant team 💙💚

💚💙

He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother – Bill Medley

This is a thank you letter I wrote to my kidney/organ transplant team and printed it out and took it to the transplant center at the hospital and dropped it off for them recently, with some small thank you gifts & cards. A few of them called me on their own cell phones to tell me how moved & uplifted they were by my story and gifts. They said it made their holiday season and even whole year. I even remember one of them using the term “blown away.” Lol They knew some details of my situation but not our whole story. My kidney transplant surgeon, Dr. Parsons, called me to thank me and ask for my permission to share this letter. I said yes!

We are released as a patient two years after our surgery, so in January 2026, I won’t be a patient here anymore. I was a patient here for almost three years, almost a year for my evaluation before surgery and then the two years after. I wanted to express my appreciation for the excellent care and deep compassion of my healthcare team throughout the last few years. And not only for what they did for me, personally, but the work that healthcare workers do for people in general. Healing people and saving lives is one of the best kinds of life work that someone can do. They can be doing anything, and they choose to literally save & enhance lives.

I would like to share the letter here. Everyone who hears or reads our story is amazed. Some even cry. Lol

The staff are a team of doctors, surgeons, nurses, physician assistants, med techs, and some others who are non-medical professionals but help in other ways. I hope to keep in touch with some of them through some of the organ donor events that take place, like the Donor Dash every April and the living donation celebration, hopefully every year.

Here is my letter to the Penn Transplant Institute staff:

To Mary Cate, Lauren, Nurses Cassandra & Ashley, Dr. Parsons, Colleen, and the whole Penn transplant and surgical teams,

Thank you all so much for your help & care throughout my kidney donation journey!! I’m thankful I chose Penn and would do the whole thing all over again & again if I could! I wish I had enough kidneys to give to every single person in need. It’s the best thing I ever did!

Not only did I get to help someone (possibly two people), but I also now have a great friend, which I wasn’t expecting. My kidney voucher recipient, Greg (you may have met/seen him, I brought him to the living donor celebration), and me were strangers when I heard he was in need of a new kidney. I was just planning on helping him and going on my way, no strings attached. But we have since become very good friends and have this unique & rare connection through our experiences that brought us together.

I was already accepted as a non-directed donor and in the process of donating my kidney to just anyone in need when I heard about a man in Philadelphia who was in urgent need of a new kidney. He was on dialysis for years after an unexpected diagnosis of end stage renal disease when he visited a doctor for suddenly feeling unwell.

He had no luck finding a kidney donor and kept getting sicker. Greg and his family were losing hope after years of waiting and failed attempts. A few of his friends & family members began the living donor evaluation process, but none were qualified. He was told it would take many years for a deceased donor. His only hope was a living one.

Greg had many hospital stays and severe complications of dialysis and kidney failure. There are multiple occasions, his family walked out of the hospital after visiting him, not knowing if they would ever see him again. He was constantly exhausted and in pain and getting infections. He had strict fluid & food restrictions and was constantly thirsty.

He had to quit his job because he became too sick to work. His life was in danger, and the quality of it was greatly suffering, and there seemed to be no end to his suffering. He said he spent hours and hours online, trying to find any bit of hope of eventually receiving a kidney transplant, but no hope was found.

His doctors told him he may not live the amount of years it would take for him to receive a deceased donor kidney because of how advanced his illness was. Greg said it was the darkest point in his life, receiving that devastating diagnosis and then getting sicker and sicker, living in a constant state of uncertainty without any glimmer of hope.

His dad and aunt had to become his caretakers and do mundane tasks for him. His family told me his suffering was becoming too much for him to bear and too much for them to have to witness.

Greg was struggling with the effects of dialysis and was in a deep depression. Just before I learned about him, he was on the verge of giving up and told his family he wasn’t sure he could go on much longer like this.

When I heard about him, I looked his family up on social media and sent them a message, introducing myself, and offered him the kidney voucher. I explained that I was already in the process of donating my kidney to just anyone in need, that my evaluation was already complete, and that I had the opportunity to donate the voucher to someone else, so that, if eligible for transplant, that person would be almost guaranteed to get a new kidney through my donation to an anonymous person, and likely somewhat soon, as long as there were no complications with the system or the person’s own situation. I told them I did not know anyone who needed it and would like to offer it to Greg after hearing how sick he was.

Greg and his family never heard of the voucher program and thought I made it up. They did not believe that I would donate my kidney to just anyone or that a complete stranger could just come out of the blue with a kidney for Greg, already qualified and ready for donation. They said it was too good to be true. It took a while to convince them that it wasn’t a joke or a scam.

They wanted to talk to Nurse Cassandra, but she said, even with my consent to break my patient confidentiality, the living donor team never communicates with a potential recipient or recipient family, when I asked for her permission for me to give them her work phone number so that she could tell them anything they wanted to know about me.

They only believed me after I showed them screenshots of my patient portal content, and even then, they were frequently afraid that I would change my mind about donating my kidney. At his family’s request, we got tested to see if we were a match for a possible direct donation. There was no potential recipient chosen for me yet, so I agreed to it.

Coincidentally, we turned out to live only fifteen minutes apart and be a very good match. His transplant team recommended that I donate my kidney directly to him. So, this was our plan for a while, as Greg was preparing to be evaluated for transplant.

But our situation turned out to be where it was better for him to have the voucher. We are both glad about this because then an extra person was potentially helped. Even when Greg was devastated and wasn’t sure he was going to live long enough to receive a new kidney when he found out he couldn’t have mine, he told me more than once he was so happy for the other person who would get my kidney and still tells me he’s glad it worked this way because that person was helped, too.

He remembered the joy and hope it brought him and his family and friends when he thought he was going to receive my kidney and said he was so happy that someone else and their family and friends now got to experience that. His empathy and compassion for others still ran deep even through his own despair.

That’s how I know I found a good one! I have told him, I don’t think in terms of “deserving” or “not deserving,” I want everyone to live and be healthy and don’t care what person/kind of person got my kidney (as long as he’s not a Cowboys fan! Then, I may have had to call the whole thing off or regret it 😆 jk That’s what I like to say when someone asks me what if a “bad person” got my kidney!), but if ever anyone “deserved” it, it would be him.

During his transplant evaluation, it was discovered that the dialysis & complications did severe damage to his heart, and it was a long journey to having that taken care of and being cleared for transplant. His condition was asymptomatic but life-threatening and putting him in imminent danger, even more than the kidney failure. So, he had two life-threatening health conditions at once. His prognosis, he was told, wasn’t good.

At that point, Greg’s healthcare team was not sure that Greg was going to live to be able to have a kidney transplant, they said the odds weren’t in his favor. The doctors he talked to refused to perform the heart surgery he needed because there was a significant chance he wouldn’t survive it. The news was shocking & shattering to Greg and his family. After just being so elated that he was finally getting a second chance to live and be healthy, they were told he may not survive much longer to ever get that chance.

I could have been waiting indefinitely. So, I decided to continue with non-directed donation, which was always my plan anyway and ultimately my preference as I like the idea of a random person being chosen and maximizing the impact by helping two or more. This was more distressing news for them, but I felt it was for the best for all of us. They understood my decision. Greg was devastated, but he chose to keep going and holding onto the sliver of hope he had, knowing he now had the chance, no matter how slim, for a new kidney, a chance that felt impossible before.

I made sure to only list his name on the voucher so him and his family would be assured that it would always be available for him whenever he was ready.

His family said even before we knew if it would all work out, just that little bit of hope I gave him was enough to pull him out of his depression and inspire him to hold on & keep going. It brought a little bit of light into his darkness, and even his physical health got a little bit better while he was still on dialysis because he now saw the possibility of life off of dialysis. He chose to keep focusing on the potential, the life that could be waiting for him at the end of the dark tunnel.

Greg found a heart surgeon who took the risk that no surgeon wanted to take. Even this surgeon was somewhat reluctant. He said he only risked it because Greg had a kidney donor/voucher already. If he wasn’t already so close to receiving a kidney transplant, the doctor would not have taken the chance. But he did, and he fixed Greg’s heart even better than the minimum he thought he could potentially do. Greg’s heart is now in very good condition. And he was placed back into the system for a kidney transplant.

On February 4th, 2025, just over a year after my non-directed donation, Greg received his new kidney and is doing amazing. He got his whole life back. He is especially thrilled because he is the biggest Philadelphia Eagles fan, and his Kidneyversary date turned out to be the anniversary of the 2018 Eagles Superbowl win!

In 2018, long before I met Greg, I bought a Philadelphia Eagles scarf with the date, “February 4th,” on it. In 2025, I dropped it off at Jefferson Hospital as a surprise gift for him after his kidney transplant on February 4th. I chose not to visit him so as not to potentially expose him to germs, but the nurses gave it to him for me. He said it was the best gift he ever received (the kidney being a close second. 😆)

💚

So, his transplant date is an especially special date for him! We are so happy about that! (And he got home just in time after his transplant to watch the Superbowl win again with his dad! Two big wins for Greg all in the same week, first a successful kidney transplant and then his team winning the Superbowl!)

Now, every year, we get to have two Kidneyversary days to celebrate, his & mine! The day that Greg received his new kidney was the most amazing day, it was like reliving the day I donated mine, except I got to be outside and not in a hospital bed. It was one of my most joyful, surreal experiences. And everything turned out perfectly for him, just like for me.

His doctors told him he’s so healthy now that he can realistically expect to live with his kidney for twenty or more years. They even said he can potentially live thirty more years with it. His transplanted kidney is working as well as it possibly can, and his general health is great.

He can work again after years of being out of work because of his illness. He got his old job back six months after his transplant! He loves his job and coworkers (many of the same ones, along with the same manager, are still there and warmly welcomed him back) and couldn’t wait to work again. He can go to concerts and games with his friends. We attended the Phillies game on Organ Donation Awareness/Gift of Life Night, hosted by the Gift of Life Program, and volunteered with them there to bring visibility to organ donation.

He said it was amazing and surreal that just less than a year ago, he was on dialysis, hardly even able to leave his house, and now he was there at a game, full of energy, and volunteering to help others get the life saving organ they need, just like he did. And he can travel to visit his family in another state. Before, he couldn’t even walk up a street without becoming exhausted.

He had the honor of meeting new friends (he even made a new kidney recipient friend at the living donor celebration!), and discovering a new cafe he loves that we visit frequently for breakfast together (and he doesn’t have many food restrictions and no fluid restrictions[The fluid restriction was one of his worst struggles, he was always extremely thirsty and found it hard to cope with that]. He still keeps his diet very healthy, though).

I have become an organ donor ambassador with the Gift of Life Program, doing volunteer work to bring awareness to organ donation and encourage people to register as potential organ donors. Greg is also planning on doing the training with the Gift of Life Program to become an organ donor ambassador.

Greg is 45 years old, and it’s like life is just beginning for him. He’s full of energy and life and hopes & dreams he wasn’t able to have before. He doesn’t have to spend hours living on a machine and then spend the rest of his days exhausted. He said he feels even healthier than before he got sick. He said he felt a significant difference in his health and energy as soon as he woke up after his transplant. The kidney began working instantly, and the effects were immediate.

He frequently tells me he’s going to pay it forward and make the world a better place, to give thanks for his second chance to live(He even says he wishes he could be a living organ donor now to show his gratitude and help someone else like he was helped. That makes me laugh!). Not that it’s necessary to me because just existing as a sentient being makes someone worthy of health and life, but he said he’s going to be sure to “earn” his new kidney.

Greg wasn’t registered as a potential organ donor, previously, and his experience receiving the gift of life, himself, inspired him to register as one. I find it heartwarming to see how much it changed him for the better and how one act of kindness can inspire so many more.

He makes friends everywhere he goes and is always doing acts of kindness like giving food workers extra big tips. It’s like he has more love & gratitude than he knows what to do with! It’s just overflowing onto everyone around him.

It always fills me with awe to hear the things he can do after being too sick for so long.

For years, Greg wanted to do the Donor Dash 3k walk, but he was too sick. Finally, in 2025, just two months after his kidney transplant, he was able to do the walk. It was his first goal after transplant. And he succeeded! We walked together. He can’t wait until the next walk and is already making plans to design t-shirts for his team. We also did the 2025 Kidney Walk together for the National Kidney Foundation in October!

He is going to begin working on his dream of becoming a dialysis tech to help people in the position he was once in. He said as a former dialysis patient himself, he will know how to comfort, encourage, and uplift the people needing dialysis. It warms my heart to see him so happy and know that, along with many others, I was able to play a part in him fulfilling his dreams and going on to help others.

I used to think of living kidney donation in a limited way, that it helps someone live, and their friends and family get to still have them around. And that was motivation enough for me to regift one of mine.

But, after this experience, I began to realize it’s so much more expansive than that. Countless things are going to happen when a person’s life is saved or changed that would never happen if they weren’t saved or changed for the better. It has an unfathomable and boundless ripple effect.

That person will go on to do things that will contribute to an infinite amount of other things. They’ll do work, engage in acts of kindness, have many encounters with various people, develop relationships, maybe have kids, and those kids will do an infinite number of things, on & on. When one person is saved, their life will have a limitless impact on the world, there’s no telling how many more will be helped, touched, or saved in various ways because that one person’s life was spared.

Even way into the very distant future, the impact of our choice to donate our kidney could still be existing even if it doesn’t involve the recipient or donor anymore. This isn’t just true for organ donation but any choice we make. Any choice, good or bad, any act of kindness, can have a lasting effect we can’t foresee and may never know.

This is true for every single one of us. We all impact everything around us in ways we may never know. Each impact we have will go on to create more effects. On & on & on.

The decision we make to give life doesn’t only help our organ recipient and voucher recipient, if we have one, but every single life they go on to touch.

We have no idea how powerful our own life is, no matter who we are or what we do. Every little thing we do touches someone or something for better or for worse.

If the thread that is us was missing, the uni-verse would not be the same. Part of it would unravel. We’re all connected in an infinite amount of intricate ways we’ll never fully understand. We’re all a thread in the tapestry of life, holding each other together.

After giving my kidney to save a stranger’s life, I understand this now in a deep way I never did before. It’s so enlightening.

Greg and me love our story, and we love to share it (we even found an excuse to share it with our lyft driver once!). There is nothing that either of us would change or wish was different.

He said he lives an almost completely normal life and generally feels like he’s not even sick anymore, other than occasional fatigue that his doctors said is normal for a transplant recipient, and having to take a lot of medication. He has a few side effects, but he said anything is better than dialysis and that he can’t complain.

There are so many seemingly small things he can do that healthy people may not even realize. When we think of someone getting an organ transplant, we often think of the most obvious things like the fact they can now go on vacations or have kids or get to meet their grandkids, or have a career…which is all great.

But there are so many simple joys that are now a reality for them, that are often overlooked by the healthy, like the fact that they can taste their favorite food again or eat ice cream (Greg was thrilled about this!) or not have fluid intake restrictions or can work in their garden, spend holidays at home with family instead of in a hospital, and just go for a walk outside without becoming exhausted.

Greg can now do all of these things and more.

I hope the same is true for my kidney recipient. I frequently think of him. I like to joke that it’s like having a long, lost twin out there somewhere! I was so happy to find out basic information about my kidney recipient when I asked. I had no preference but was a bit curious about the age & gender of the person, but I wasn’t sure it was ok to ask at first. Finding out that I have a “kidney brother” somewhere, was just as amazing as the day I donated my kidney. It made him seem more human in my mind and less an abstract concept, and added more joy to my already joyful experience.

I like to think that I have two kidney brothers. Maybe someday I’ll get to meet/communicate with my other one. But even if not, I’m so thankful for the opportunity to help someone! The joy never fades.

Sharing my kidney is just as much a gift to me as to my recipient/s.

Donating one of my kidneys to a person in need has been my dream for so many years since I read a heartwarming true story in a newspaper or magazine (It was so long ago, that detail is a bit hazy now), about a man who donated his kidney to a stranger. Being a dad inspired him, and he said we’re all the same beyond any differences, and anyone he looked at could be his own son and is just as worthy. It inspired me.

When I read that story, I instantly knew that would be me one day, sharing one of my kidneys with a person in need. Almost two decades later, it was! It just deeply resonated with me. I found it so beautiful to see the lengths that one human would go to save another, giving up a literal piece of himself.

I wasn’t sure when it would happen, but I knew one day, it would. If I have more than enough of something for myself, I see no reason not to give some to someone who doesn’t have enough. I had two perfect kidneys. And I have always been in perfect health. I wanted to share that so someone else can have even just a little bit of what I have. It made complete sense to me to give one away to anyone who needed it. The fact that I don’t know someone, or may not like the person, doesn’t make that person less worthy or less in need.

At that moment I read the story, it was not an urgent “calling” like it would become years later, but even then, I had this deep conviction that I have everything it takes and would do that for someone one day in the future. Through the years, thoughts about it were recurring, becoming more frequent and intense, often randomly, but not until 2023, did everything become perfectly aligned and right, giving me the motivation & ability to go through with it.

Some years ago, I, randomly, tried to donate my kidney at Jefferson Hospital’s transplant center. There was no particular reason I chose to then. I chose them because the location was very convenient with my work back then. But they stopped communicating with me with no explanation, then the initial covidvirus outbreak occurred, and my financial & work situations changed. I still frequently thought about donating my kidney to anyone in need and knew I eventually would.

That story I read many years ago stayed with me for all those years until my dream finally came true, 15+ years later. In March 2023, I saw a request on the subway one night after work, for a 76 year old Pennsylvania man, asking for someone to become a non-directed kidney donor and donate the voucher to him. I realized that I had the appropriate work, financial, and living situations again.

At that moment I felt the “call.” I knew instantly. It felt like being on the cusp of something incredible, a feeling that was lacking when I attempted to donate at Jefferson Hospital years earlier. The second I saw the request that night, without any hesitation at all, I looked up the National Kidney Registry and filled out the application on the train, to be a non-directed donor with intention to give the voucher to that man. If it did not work out with him, I planned to still donate my kidney to just anyone.

I knew the potential benefits to a kidney recipient significantly outweighed any potential risks to myself and that even if I did experience one or more of the rare potential complications at any point, at least it would be because I tried to help someone. I could never regret it. The only thing I would ever regret would be not taking the chance when I had it.

Someone else did not have the luxury of “maybe” that I had. Maybe I would experience a complication or maybe not, but someone else was already suffering complications of an illness, and all it would take was a small part of my body to help that. Giving up some of my comfort for a while, taking on a little bit of someone else’s pain, to possibly give someone a whole life, was more than worth it.

I knew as soon as I saw that request on the subway that it would lead me to do something amazing and profound, something I have always known I would do. There was this feeling like this is it, the seed that was planted all those years before, finally blossoming into fruition. There was no uncertainty, no hesitation. This remained true throughout my entire evaluation process. There was never a hint of reconsidering my decision or backing out. I had this overwhelming feeling like I was made to help someone, whether this person or someone else, and that in the end, it would all work out for the best for all involved.

Thankfully, it turned out that man on the screen on the subway was already helped by another stranger when my evaluation was through. 200+ people, mostly strangers, in & near Philadelphia, volunteered to give their kidney for him. Nearly all were rejected, but I loved seeing that it’s not as rare as people may think, for a human to reach out to help another struggling human, no matter what lengths they have to go. It inspired me that over 200 people did not hesitate to help a man in need, and I know many more would have reached out to help him if they saw his request.

So, I got to go on and help someone else. Ten months later, I donated my kidney to whoever needed it. That sign on the subway is what set the whole thing in motion. Those ten months brought me nothing but overwhelming joy. I loved the whole process and anticipation. It brought extra joy to my everyday, knowing I was about to help someone in need. I cherish the memories now. Some living organ donors talk about a big depressing “let down” after the whole thing is over, once the surgery takes place and the novelty wears off and there’s no longer this big thing to look forward to. But for me, the joy has only deepened since then.

I considered looking for another stranger in need to donate the voucher to after I learned that man was already helped. It was a coincidence that I happened to hear about Greg just as I was searching for someone in need. The donation process took a bit longer because I waited for Greg for a while until I realized non-directed donation would be best while donating the voucher to him.

Thank you for giving me that chance to help someone.

During the evaluation process, there was some concern about my depression history. I had to do another psych evaluation with the social worker in case the surgery or any aspect of donation triggered my depressive condition. I appreciated their care for not only my physical safety but also my mental health, but my experience had and still has the opposite effect! It elates me and lifts me, even in low moods.

I am just as healthy as when I had two kidneys! Nothing changed at all. I wouldn’t even know I had surgery or only have one kidney except for the scars (which I love, and wish would stop fading! Quite a few people who saw my incisions/scars {I love to show them off 😆} said I clearly had a great surgeon!). I remember just less than two weeks after my surgery, jokingly saying I wonder if they even took the kidney! I was nearly 100% back to my usual self already. I walked to my three week post op appointment! Two hours without stopping. And walked the two hours back home!

Greg and me both have had an extremely easy recovery with little to no pain or fatigue and no complications. We both have said it’s almost like we never even had surgery. I only needed the prescription pain med on my first evening home. Then, after that, never even needed Tylenol. And not one nap during my recovery! I was already back to work a few weeks later, just keeping the pets company who did not need walks (I’m a pet nanny for work), and a few months later, I was back to work completely with no problems at all.

I am as energetic as ever. I often walk 10+ hours a day and love to brag about how amazing that is for someone with only one kidney (even though I know having only one kidney doesn’t put me at a disadvantage for walking or any other physical activity)! I also like to brag about my two superpowers: being in two places at once (I heard that Lefty is somewhere in Minnesota!), & peeing for two 😆

None of this would have been possible for Greg and so many others without all of you on the living donor team and the work you do for living donors and, in turn, our recipients.

I thank all of you for being part of my journey and for all the work you do helping people and literally saving lives.

I found the whole Penn staff to be warm and caring. I remember having anxiety on my way to my first day of medical testing at Penn and even the night before. I was concerned that my blood pressure would not show as accurate because of my anxiety and was trying to think of ways to calm myself and my racing heart. Nothing was working. But as soon as I got inside and met the various team members, my anxiety completely dissipated, and every part of me became calm.

While the work itself is important, I also believe that the way healthcare workers interact with their patients is important and makes all the difference to us. I have received nothing but kindness, positivity, and compassion when interacting with the Penn staff, all throughout my evaluation process, hospital stay, and after.

The atmosphere at Penn is so positive and calming. On the morning of my surgery, I woke up with a palpable sense of inner peace that stayed with me even as I laid on the operating table waiting to go under. All of the healthcare workers in the operating room that morning were uplifting and funny and compassionate. And they played my favorite music for me, Oldies!

I was a half hour late for surgery because I got up later than I meant to and then got lost that morning and ended up in the wrong place with no idea where to go. The only person around was a friendly security guard who also had no idea where I was supposed to be. It held everyone up. I could tell a few of the doctors/nurses were frantic and trying to hurry up and get the whole thing going after having to wait for me.

I also overheard them talking outside the room about the challenges they had because of me showing up late (I’m still sorry!!). But none of them showed any anger or even annoyance, they even said it was no problem when I said I’m sorry. That’s one thing I always remember, the patience and understanding they showed me. They were also kind enough to take a picture of Lefty for me when I requested it before sending it off to its new forever home!

Another thing I have appreciated is the surgical team standing at the bed as I was waking up just after surgery, and gently saying my name over and over and telling me I was awake now. The first thing I saw was their smiling faces as soon as everything came into focus. And they told me I gave a beautiful kidney and thanked me for giving the gift of life. It can be confusing or startling to wake up somewhere that isn’t home, especially in a place like a hospital, before everything registers. They made sure I woke up knowing that everything was good.

That’s something I will always remember.

It may seem like a simple, unimportant thing, but it made my experience better and was a soothing and positive thing to wake up to.

Other than Dr. Parsons, I don’t remember the names of any of the doctors or nurses taking care of me that day or throughout my brief hospital stay, but I do remember that care, compassion, and patience.

I haven’t met one Penn team member who isn’t extremely caring and dedicated and welcoming.

I am in a living kidney donor group online with living donors all around the world, mostly U.S. donors, and one recurring complaint that I see is that some living donor centers do not show support or compassion to their donors after the surgery. They kind of forget about them or brush them off after the kidney is taken. It’s more common than we would like to think. I always tell people I have been lucky to not have this problem with Penn. Not only are we not dismissed or forgotten but are acknowledged with gratitude after our donation.

All of my questions before and after my kidney donation surgery, even the slightly off-topic ones that weren’t necessarily your responsibility to answer, were answered quickly and thoroughly, and the responses were always thoughtful and caring.

My interactions with most of the Penn team have been brief and not very frequent, but still, the impact is very positive and lasting. 

I am writing all this in detail to remind you of the full extent of the impact of the work you do and the compassion you display. I know healthcare workers are often overworked, burned out, and sometimes constantly busy. It may not always be positive or easy work and can be stressful, I’m sure, but it touches countless lives for the better.

I am so honored to get to have this experience and to have worked with your team for the last few years. If ever I meet anyone considering living organ donation (I hope to inspire some along the way!), I will be sure to recommend Penn Transplant Institute and share with them my positive experience with you.

I love being part of the whole organ donation family and feel a sense of kinship & belonging with all the other donors, donor families, recipients, and their families.

My body “lost” a kidney, but I received so much more in return.

My kidney donation has given me this whole family, a new friend, an expanded life perspective, and most of all, the gift of seeing someone’s whole life change, dramatically, for the best.

Even though it wasn’t my intention or expectation, my experience with kidney donation truly has given me just as much as it has given those who received the gift of life out of it.

Even if I never got to know my kidney voucher recipient or my actual recipient, I would be so thankful for my opportunity to get to help someone, but getting to see firsthand the incredible impact, it adds to my experience.

I hope Lefty is doing well, and I will continue to take good care of Righty and bring awareness to living organ donation (and organ donation in general)!

My kidney donation journey at Penn is coming to an end after almost three years, so I want to say thank you and share with you my amazing experience before I go.

Thank you, again, to every member of the Penn living donor team, the surgical team, the general Penn transplant team, and all of the healthcare workers who took care of me during my hospital stay after surgery.

With love,

Kim

❤️
There were way more than shown here lol I had three shopping bags full of gifts, some personalized for the people I worked with more directly, but most for the staff in general.
💙💚💚💙

So, there’s our story!

If you have a healthcare worker or team of them, I recommend showing them your gratitude & appreciation with a small gift, letter, or card. Unfortunately, this is not allowed at every hospital/health center, so, checking with the hospital’s HR first is a good idea. Healthcare workers are professionals doing their job, but they’re also just people who don’t expect it but love to be acknowledged for the good they do. They definitely don’t get enough of it. I was not expecting any of them to acknowledge my letter or gifts to them. I was almost sure they would appreciate it but wasn’t expecting busy Healthcare workers to really stop and acknowledge it. But they couldn’t express enough gratitude or joy!

You can brighten someone’s whole day or even leave a lasting impact just by sharing how they helped you or someone close to you or even just thanking them for the work they do in general.

❤️

Xoxo Kim 💚💙

Universal Compassion ❤️

In my opinion, our compassion is best when it embraces all sentient beings.

Reasons:

1.) Our suffering is all the same whether we’re good or bad.
2.) At best, suffering does the world no good, and at the worst, it makes the world worse for everyone
3.) Ultimately, the “bad people” are like victims of their circumstances- this is not to say we have no choice, but our choices are often influenced by various factors, our mental health, our life circumstances, our upbringing, our culture,  our privilege or lack of… and sometimes without us fully realizing the consequences or that we have other options. I don’t believe that under the best circumstances, anyone would essentially choose to be a terrible person.
4.) Our own minds are more peaceful when we wish others well.

This post is inspired by all the (understandable) enthusiasm I have been seeing about Donald Trump’s medical condition and all the wishes that more bad things happen to him.

I don’t believe he can be rehabilitated. I believe he’s a bad person and that there’s no hope for him. I am not one of those loving people who believe everyone is truly good and that everyone can be rehabilitated with lots of love and care. I think Donald Trump was born with the predisposition for being a “bad person.”

His condition reminds me of my condition, but mine is not serious. It can be painful but is not life or health threatening. I have jugular vein insufficiency and insufficiency of a few other veins in my neck because of an obstruction in my head. The obstruction is also not life threatening. The blood leaving my brain to go to my heart through these veins, can’t get there because of the veins being impinged on. So, the blood backs up into my head. Many veins are all doing the same job, so it doesn’t matter. It’s harmless. The blood is still getting to my heart. 

I have recurring unbearable headaches associated with it, though. The headaches are 10/10 pain, at least within their own context. I guess when compared to some other kinds of pain, they would be less than 10 on a pain level scale. But like within the context of headaches. They bring me to the floor. I have been bedridden for days sometimes. I think it’s the obstruction itself that causes the headaches, not the vein insufficiency or blood backing up. That can cause severe pain, too, though, among many other things. When I have these headaches or think of them, my empathy for others becomes boundless.

Mine doesn’t cause swelling, but you can see the jugular vein bulging out of my neck. I had to have scans a couple of years ago to see why it was suddenly protruding and so prominent. The doctors were concerned it could be a blood clot somewhere causing it. But it turned out to be nothing serious. I convinced myself I was dying and had six months left to live (certain kinds of cancer can cause it to bulge, and when it’s to that point, the average person only lives around six months. I convinced myself I had that), and my heart rate and blood pressure were through the roof in a doctor’s office. They had to tell me to calm down and to stay off Google 😆 

I don’t want him as President, he’s absolutely repulsive. He has no redeeming qualities. None.
But I don’t wish him or anyone to be sick. I don’t believe anyone deserves to be sick any more than I do. We are all equal in our suffering and in our comfort. The goodness or lack of it in us, is irrelevant in this context. If Donald Trump was afflicted with one of my headaches, he would suffer the same as me. All sentient beings essentially want to live and be healthy. We all suffer the same. The headaches this brings me, I would wish on absolutely no one. I literally cannot bear the mere thought of someone else, even him, enduring what I do when a headache hits. 

I believe the world would be a significantly better place if everyone was happy (not at the expense of others, but sincerely happy) & healthy. It’s people who are unhappy and hurt who hurt others. Happy, well rounded, people don’t go around tormenting anyone else. There are absolutely people who get off on hurting others (he’s one of them), it makes them happy. But that’s not genuine happiness, it’s happiness that often relieves whatever unhappiness that afflicts them. If they were genuinely happy, they would not inflict pain upon others.

❤️

Most of us have probably experienced this on a lesser scale, like for example, when we’re in a bad mood so we get snippy with someone when it’s not warranted. It’s displaced anger or annoyance. We may not usually do this, even when unhappy, but most of us have probably more than once been less than kind, when in a bad mood, to someone who did not deserve it. These people, though, live a life of that because they are always unhappy and are the kind of people who want others to suffer, too.

I don’t believe that everyone is basically good. But I think their lack of goodness is the result of their own suffering. Some people are born (and maybe upbringing often plays a part, but I think they have inherent or genetic inclination for it to begin with) never developing basic human abilities/emotions, like the ability for empathy and compassion. This does not result in true happiness. It results in the desire to hurt others, it brings them a superficial happiness. Donald Trump hurts everyone. And he gets off on it. He loves it. But we see he’s not a happy person. 

Why do we think bitter, miserable people often insist on hurting others? Because it brings them relief or pleasure. They are seeking what we all seek. It’s just for them, their suffering influences it.

Wishing further suffering on them has no practical benefits. If anything, it only serves to perpetuate their abuse as their own suffering is the source of it anyway, and it doesn’t make our own mind any more positive or loving. It may bring us a moment of satisfaction again & again. But I don’t think it has any real value. At least wishing others well has potential to bring us inner peace, and then we’re more likely to interact positively with others.

Not all seemingly terrible people really are. Unlike Donald Trump, some can change. It’s dependent on the reason they are how they are.

I believe that if we were all given the choice before being born, to be a good and happy person or a bad and suffering person who goes to great lengths to inflict that suffering upon others, all of us would have chosen to be happy and healthy and good and someone who wishes that for every other being as well. Ultimately, no one chooses to be what Donald Trump is. Yes, he chooses to do bad things within the confines of the existence he was given. He’s a despicable person. Nothing changes that. But I don’t believe for a second that he would have chosen this if the uni-verse gave him a choice when he was still a “clean slate” if ever he even was. He was born suffering or was brought up to suffer, and now he wants the rest of us to suffer along with him.

Some people’s suffering inspires deeper empathy for others, but for others, it doesn’t, it has the opposite effect and inhibits empathy instead. 

As the cliche goes, “Hurt people, hurt people.”

Suffering begets more suffering. 

This doesn’t mean we always have to speak warm & kindly to everyone. Sometimes, people have to be told off & judged harshly and not get what they want. Some people need a firm ass kicking. It just means we don’t have to wish suffering upon them.

I believe it does no good to wish pain & suffering on others.

I wish he was happy & healthy and not born a psychopath. Me wishing that does no practical good either, though. But I think the world would be better and most of us more peaceful if more of us wished good things on people instead of bad.

People have countered my sentiment, saying anger & hatred fuel us to act for good. While that is sometimes true, compassion & love can fuel us just the same. Anger & hatred feel unpleasant and can get out of control and influence us to do things that are destructive to ourselves and others. Love & compassion can never go wrong. As I said, it doesn’t necessarily have to be warm and sappy and “feel good” feelings. It can be firm & harsh but still love. When anger & hatred frequently consume us, it leads to stress, depression, anxiety, physical ailments. When compassion & love consume us, it only leads to good.

I don’t know the source of this quote, the name here may not be accurate. I also see it attributed to Shantideva.

I have wished bad things on people before, and I probably will again. But that’s not the philosophy I hold, it’s when I give into raw emotion that I allow to overtake me and blind me. I always find my way back to me, the authentic me who knows the truth, that wishing suffering on others isn’t the way.

If I could, I would flip a switch and turn all the suffering in the world off, even for “bad people.” I would in a heartbeat. 

Think about it, there must be higher love
Down in the heart or hidden in the stars above
Without it, life is a wasted time
Look inside your heart, I’ll look inside mine
Things look so bad everywhere
In this whole world, what is fair?
We walk blind, and we try to see
Falling behind in what could be

Bring me a higher love
Bring me a higher love
Bring me a higher love
Where’s that higher love I keep thinking of?

Higher Love – Steve Winwood

Xoxo Kim ❤️

Gay panic 💕

I keep saying I want another woman “to do life with” and connect with and cuddle, and take care of. I keep wondering where she is and getting depressed & lonely about not having her, asking where is my Dame in shining armor.

Then, a beautiful, absolutely adorable gay woman who looks like she just walked out of my fantasies, in the flesh, comes out of nowhere and tells me I’m cute (which NEVER happens, women don’t even usually show interest in me as a friend, they literally do not know I even exist), and I freeze up and turn into a blubbering, stuttering wreck with no sense of language, mumble a barely audible “thank you,” turn, and walk away as fast as I can.

What’s wrong with me 😂🤣 I was beaming all the way home, though, felt like I was walking on air lol

This is what they mean by useless sapphic 😆😍

💜

Nahh, ain’t no plans with a man 😆
🤣💯 I have to get this t-shirt one day soon lol
I’m not in New York, but, yes, I did! I attended Gay Game Night, a documentary on lgbtq+ rights activism, Drag Bingo where I got to see a drag show with Asia Monroe! 💜🏳️‍🌈
B&w version 🖤

Haven’t Met You Yet

Walking In the Rain – Walker Brothers

Mr. Sandman

Xoxo Kim ❤️

I can sense your presence in my heart ❤️ {sort of repost}

And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like ‘I love you.’

I recently had a strange experience. It’s so surreal and strange and unique to me that I don’t think anyone else can understand because to understand, you would have to be intimately familiar with my previous experience. And no one is. I kept it a secret for years until finally writing a very long post about it a couple years ago.

It’s a story that haunted me for years and needed telling, though. I thought I would take it to my grave. It was a cathartic experience writing it out and healed me in ways I did not realize still needed healing. It’s an experience that affected my self esteem and to this day, still does. It was agonizing, mortifying. Heartbreaking. I thought I could never get over it. It took me years to recover.

I’m going to share some of my story here.

Much of this is straight out of a previous post for some context, and then I share my strange related experience at the end.

When I was 21 years old, I met a woman. She was a bisexual woman who mostly dated men.

It was September.

And it was love at first sight.

She was laughing when I first saw her across the room. The gentle fluorescent light, playing up the highlights in her hair. I was instantly drawn in by her physical beauty. It caught me off guard. I see beautiful women everywhere and am distracted and moved. But this one was especially beautiful. She was breathtaking. I couldn’t peel my eyes away.

And her playfulness added to it. She was laughing and joking when I first encountered her. The way she threw her head back and laughed deeply, hysterically at something simple someone said, I was spellbound. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. It was like the rest of the world fell away and there was only her. And she was all I wanted, all I needed.

Even as I write this now, I feel a stirring of sorts in my chest as I remember that feeling and how it was just the beginning of what would become a tumultuous years long journey of passionate love, longing, ecstasy, and agony.

I found myself moving to get closer to her. To breathe her air, to bask in her ways, to better hear her voice. I made my way over without being noticed. I found myself staring, smiling ear to ear. I remember thinking somewhere deep within that this one was made to be mine.

I just felt she was going to have some significance in my world. And she did. She wrecked my world completely. Brought me to ruin. I thought I would never recover, never claw myself out of the debris of my crumbled life and self.

She was a small, white woman, with messy, wavy brown hair that fell, softly, to her shoulders. Brown/green eyes. Maybe hazel, if I remember correctly. I can’t believe I don’t really remember. But I remember they were warm and loving.

I could tell she was quite a bit older than me, around forty years old, so almost twenty years. The age difference did not faze me.

She wore glasses and looked adorable. She came off as humble and welcoming. Her clothes were what some may call “frumpy,” loose, sweat kind of clothes. I found it pleasing. Later I found that she also dressed up a lot, in girly, dressy clothes. But she had no problem dressing down in public, sometimes even when she would attend conferences and give speeches in front of lots of people, she would dress in sweat clothes. She would laugh about it and say how terrible she looked (she totally did not!). I found her even more beautiful dressed down with no makeup, hair messy. (I sound like a man, and it’s kind of cringe 🤣)

There was something sophisticated about her. She had an air about her. I already got the feeling she was intellectual, intelligent, before I knew anything about her. The way she carried herself, the backpack around her shoulder, the book in her arms. She seemed deep and aware. I was correct.

I later found out she was a teacher/college instructor, and writer and editor for some blogs and local news articles. She did workshops on writing and stuff like that. She had genius level intelligence. There was no hint of arrogance whatsoever. She was very successful with education and career. She did not have much money or health insurance though and felt this was an indication of being a failure in life.

I could tell she had a sense of humor because of her frequent, wholehearted laugh while interacting with people. This was something I fell in love with right away. A woman who can laugh, and deeply, with abandon. She was very social. Extroverted. She touched people frequently, pats on the back, hand on their arms. Reaching out to pull someone aside if she wanted to talk to them. She laughed at everything they said, joked, playful insults back and forth with the people she was with, funny sarcasm. She was witty and could take a joke. She loved risque jokes and inappropriate stuff, like I do, and wasn’t easily offended. She could be a perv like me. LoL She was very girly, but also “one of the guys.”

This, along with her physical attractiveness, made her irresistible to me. She had a soft smile on her face when I first saw her. She wasn’t looking at me and did not even know I was there. I felt something instantly for her. I wanted to make her mine. I knew I had to know more. She looks like Tina Fey (& frequently told that) and with a similar personality.

One day, I found her singing. Her voice was soft, soothing, gentle, like the voice of an angel, caressing all the depths of my being. Hauntingly beautiful. I could tell her singing was inspired by a place of deep pain. Not temporary pain. I could tell she knew a life of persistent or recurring pain. I don’t remember the words. The words weren’t important. It was the soft melancholy ache in her voice, in the passion of her song. It was as if there was a wellspring of sorrow within her, driving that kind of singing. It resonated with the ache in me. I had no idea she could sing like that.

I thought she was perfect.

And this made me love her.

I got to know her more and more and realized she wasn’t perfect.

And this made me love her so much more.

She was perfect to me.

Perfect for me.

She’s the one I wanted by my side for the rest of this life.

Arrogantly, I thought I was perfect for her too and that she would agree. This is where I went so so wrong and suffered immense heartbreak. For years I thought she broke it, but it was all my own doing, letting myself be so dependent on the expectation that I would be someone to her when in reality she wanted nothing at all to do with me. And the not knowing why and the wondering nearly k!lled me.

I remember that feeling. The feeling that I found her. It stirs something in me now. It’s not her anymore who gives me that feeling, just the memory making emotions resurface, and the fact that it can happen again as I have the ability to experience this. A kind of nostalgic and anticipatory thrill. And I like it.

She was everything I thought she was and more. Compassionate. Intellectual. Deep. Hilarious (like incredibly hilarious, I imagined us laughing for hours together). Just as beautiful on the inside as the outside. Political. Progressive. Educated. Determined. Strong. All this and more. She was generally respectful while engaging with people who were difficult or ignorant, but she could be snarky and snippy.

I found myself on occasion, wondering how this incredible woman wasn’t already mine. How on Earth I’m just finding her now. It felt that we have and should have already known each other for years (I told her that once online, and she liked my comment). I’m not a believer in an afterlife of any sort but truly, I felt I have loved and known her in life after life. That we were bound together, made for each other by the heavens above, some cosmic force or magic holding us together.

I thought of her frequently when she wasn’t around. She was always on my mind. Whenever our paths crossed, I was overjoyed and ecstatic. My whole body would become energized. I would get giddy for the rest of the day and not know what to do with myself. I loved her and wanted her to be mine. I wanted her by my side all life long. I would daydream & fantasize. I did not tell anyone about my secret love. Not family or close friends.

I loved the secret longing. It gave me a thrill, particularly because there was always that possibility we would eventually belong to each other. After the rejection, years later, that thrill was mostly gone, the thrill she may someday be mine and was replaced by deep pain, sometimes life draining pain, but the thrill of loving her and knowing someone so beautiful exists, remained.

I would see her, randomly, and make it a point to walk by her, hoping she would notice and think I’m pretty or interesting. But she never did. If I would see her walking a certain direction, I would walk that way, hoping to run into her. If I saw her having lunch with people, I would sit close by, hoping she would notice, and also just to be in her presence.

But she did not really know I existed(literally she did but it felt like she did not). When I met her face to face, she did not seem as smitten with me as I was with her. She seemed to like me, just not actively interested in being my friend, it seemed. She was polite and friendly with me, but nothing more. I was very shy and did not know how to initiate anything and was too shy to often begin conversations with her.

Once in a while I got up the nerve to try but did not know how to really express how interested in her I was, did not know how to form a friendship. All my friends were people who showed interest in me first and introduced me to their friends and then we became friends. This woman did not show interest in being more than an acquaintance, if even that.

Sometimes she would see me and come to say hello and ask how I am. She would sometimes tell me what kind of day she was having or plans for her Saturday night (which was often staying at home reading a book/watching a movie and drinking wine). I would ask her questions about herself or her day/weekend, and she would respond and ask me a couple things, and that would be it. It never went anywhere, and I did not know how to direct it somewhere.

I also had inclination for calling her and thinking of her as Baby, sweetheart, honey, love, darling, babe…as terms of endearment or affection, something I only rarely experience and when I do only for women. I did call her that occasionally while commenting on her pictures and stuff. So did others.

Just seeing her sent some joy and ecstasy through me, like electricity. I became full of excessive energy and very talkative with my friends, laughing hysterically at everything everyone said. My smile hurt my face. It was like getting a “fix” for the day. I was bouncing off the walls all day and night. I was all giddy, my heart racing. I felt like running through the city frolicking about, laughing and singing.

I felt the uni-verse gave me the most incredible gift there is to give, letting me catch an unexpected glimpse of her. This was long before sending her the messages. I lost sleep over her so many nights, even before the rejection because I couldn’t get her off my mind. It was a good thing. I stayed up imagining us becoming close, imagining all the great things we would do together, thinking about how beautiful she was. I used to stay up til 4:30am, dancing around my room just thinking how someone so amazing exists.

My dad used to come into my room complaining about me being up singing, dancing around at that hour. 😆 He would hear me and come bursting through my door yelling “KIM!! What the HELL are you still doing up at this hour?!” I was bouncing off the walls. 😭 The energy she stirred in me wouldn’t let me rest. I seriously needed no sleep. It kept me going all day and night. I was never tired.

Eventually, we did not cross paths in person anymore. There was no defining moment when I realized I wouldn’t see her again, so it wasn’t as gutwrenching as it would have been. Circumstances just changed. But I carried my love for her for years. It never ended. I held onto the hope that we would see each other again. The hope wasn’t always active. I wasn’t constantly thinking about it. I knew she was out there somewhere, and somewhat close. This was enough for me.

My love for her would take the back burner once in a while, then reappear strong. Sometimes I would find a new woman to be all ga ga over. Not seeing this woman for a while, my love kind of mellowed out, but I carried it with me, hoping to run into her again. Once in a while it would become more active again. I would still daydream about her, sometimes fall asleep thinking of her even years later. There would be “flares” of thinking of her and longing for her then they would fade a bit.

My love stayed calm and hopeful off and on until one day I happened to accidentally come across her on Twitter. I had an online friend who had a Twitter account and I was looking at his and saw he re-tweeted something of hers. Imagine my surprise! To see her beautiful face again years later. She was around 45 years old, and I was 27 years. It was four years since last seeing her in person or having any contact with her. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest! I did not have a Twitter account but could see hers. I loved everything she posted. She was very politically Liberal, she called out racism, homophobia, transphobia, misogyny.

She did this even way before it was the cool mainstream thing to do. She shared all her opinions. This inspired me to look her up on Facebook and Google. It wasn’t in a creepy way. I looked her up on Facebook because we did kind of know each other to a point. If we did not ever know each other, I wouldn’t have. She was popular online and had years worth of writings and stuff, and I found so much of it. Her Facebook account was public, and she had many strangers as friends so I felt it wasn’t too creepy to request her as an online friend. She accepted.

I saw that she had a YouTube channel, blog, and Instagram account where she shared every aspect of her life and every thought that crossed her mind, even things most would not make public, like cheating on her husband with a married man, both of their marriages ruined, having an abortion without telling her husband (not saying she should have had to, but this is something most people wouldn’t broadcast to the world lol), she admitted to once dating and then moving in with a man just to use him for his money and place to live and things, when she wasn’t really in love with or interested in him for him, getting into arguments with people, the falling out she had with various friends and family members…She was a pill addict at one point and mentally unstable. Sometimes she wanted to k.ill people and would throw fits in public. She was in & out of psychiatric hospitals.

She was extremely passionate about openly supporting minority groups of any kind. She visited other cultures and learned their customs and languages. She denounced public figures/celebrities/popular people who expressed prejudicial attitudes against minority groups. She volunteered and donated money to organizations supporting minority groups.

She got a lot of criticism, even threats, but this did not stop her. She traveled and gave public speeches on LGBTQIA+ and racial minority issues. She wrote blog posts and newspaper articles on the issues. She did all this while battling debilitating mental illness and devastating headaches. I was in awe.

All this deepened my awe of her. Every terrible thing she did and shared and every great thing about her all clashed into a beautiful disarray of seasons and colors and everything. She was a beautiful disaster. My goodness was she beautiful in every way, the embodiment of beauty itself.

I wondered if her husband was out of his mind letting her go. I would have kept her and taken her back again and again.

We both held the rare philosophy that romantic love is not better than platonic love and friendship and that platonic love is equally fulfilling and important. And we both did not want to get married (she said once was enough for her, but she still wanted love).I thought there couldn’t be a more amazing person.

It wasn’t that I loved her “anyway.” That could have been true also.But I loved her even more, *because*. I don’t particularly have a thing for users, cheaters, homewreckers, liars, slobs (her apartment had roaches because it wasn’t clean lol), troublemakers, … it’s just because it was HER.

I also found out we loved the same kinds of stuff, books, music, cafes, movie theatres, shopping…

This is when I fell so madly in love. If I thought it was love before, this was on a whole other plane.

One day she shared that she found a dead mouse outside and she sat down and cried next to it, then buried it. She posted a picture of the mini memorial/grave she made for it. It was heartwarming, and I longed to hug her. This deepened my conviction that we were soulmates. I rarely to never meet people who care when a rodent or insect dies like I do. She would even feed roaches outside if she saw them and so do I. Lol Giving them bread or pretzels and some water. I have never known someone so compassionate except the Buddhists I used to hang out with Her and me are atheists.

I felt we were soulmates. I wanted a relationship with her that is more interconnected or close than close best friends usually are. But I would have been absolutely thrilled to have her in any context, even if she was a casual acquaintance or work friend. Most of my pain was not having any contact with her. I just wanted her in my world in some way. I was so super jealous of her friends and acquaintances because I did not have her in any way except a few social media comments/likes here and there. It was so tantalizing.

I wanted nothing but her. I wanted her to be mine and to take care of her forever.I felt like any problem I ever had would disappear if she was mine. So I sent her a long message, two actually, (don’t know how I got up the nerve but I did and wholeheartedly regretted it lol It was and still is uncharacteristic of me to be so bold) gushing about how we could be amazing friends and live close enough to hang out and do everything together since we like all the same stuff and she unfriended my account, after not responding for a few days. lol (definitely was NOT laughing back then)

I saw people who were strangers to her but lived close enough, commenting on her posts asking to get coffee or ice cream with her and her agreeing. She was very social and a bit popular because of all her activism work and volunteering and she had a large social media and blog following, mostly by people in our city. So my message to her was not completely out of the ordinary for her who did get lots of requests to meet up and hang out and she was always getting compliments on her physical beauty and personality. I had lots of competition; everyone loved her. She also got a lot of negative comments by a-holes who did not like her political views or just wanted to troll. This would infuriate me and I wanted to tell them all off. LoL I was very protective and defensive of her. I could not stand her getting negative comments. To me, she was perfection.

Back then, her rejection was the worst thing ever, and triggered a two month long major depressive episode thankfully not a s*icidal one but still debilitating – I was able to keep the s*icidal thoughts under control and I had close friends, which helped, even though they did not know what was going on, exactly, but I had difficulty getting out of bed each morning and getting to work, my body was so heavy and most of my joy in life was gone, s*icidal thoughts tried to emerge but I was able to keep them away, I saw no hope for any future for me, no food had flavor, I couldn’t sleep, no motivation to do anything – all I thought about was her and why she did not want me, was I not good enough…

My whole self felt so broken; it felt like I wasn’t whole, like I would never be because of this experience. I felt the rejection of someone and something I desperately wanted, but also, I felt a deep deep sense of loss. She was never mine to lose, but still I felt deep, profound loss. There was always that possibility. Beautiful potential. At least in my mind. But it was snatched away because of my decision to reach out and make myself and my love known. Oh. How I regretted it so. For years. How I regretted it. I regretted everything I said. Every word of it.

I remember this was one of the things that made it especially difficult to move on. I felt that I was irreparably broken, that I was now tarnished and would never be able to love anyone ever again. It felt like something significant, something inherent to me being me, was cut off permanently. I felt that I became a lesser version of me, a hollow version, a shadow or shell of what I was before I reached out to her. She was so much an essential part of me (with my perspective) or my love for her was, that it seemed impossible to have a full life loving her when she did not love me at all. It was like what good is life when the most important thing to me isn’t in mine. It’s a bit deeper than I know how to put into words.

I feel it’s coming off more superficial than it was. It wasn’t simply a matter of I can’t have her what good is life, that too. It was more that my love for her felt so fundamental to my core or identity that I felt somehow altered at a cellular level, almost like I wasn’t the full me anymore that I was. Like an identity crisis. It felt like this part of me , loving someone to this extent, this depth, this magnitude, who does not love me even just a little bit, is making me less the girl I was.

It physically sickened me to the point my headache disorder flared up unbearably for weeks and it felt like life was crumbling on top of me. The headaches were devastating, even more devastating than the emotional pain, in a way. I find physical pain of this magnitude to be even more difficult to cope with than emotional pain. It felt like my face being burned alive on one side. I have been depressed before over losses, exclusion, but this was different.

To get to see so much of her life (she was very open about every single aspect of her life, social, emotional, dating, romantic, sexual, marriage, interests, politics, religion, family, health/medical…She was raw, open, honest…and this is one of the things I loved most about her, how she shared herself with the world. I find being “an open book,” a very attractive quality in people) displayed on my screen and not getting to be a part of it in any way, was pain like I can’t explain.

She was my everything and more, and to not be good enough for her was a pain that is indescribable. Everyday, the pain ripped through me emotionally and physically. It felt like my life was over. I couldn’t see a future without her now that I found her. I truly felt that way for a while, that without her, life had nothing to offer me. But at the same second, the joy it brought me just to cross paths with her and know someone that beautiful exists, was out of this world. I was so amazed by the sharp contrast of joy and pain she brought me. They existed alongside one another, never touching or tainting each other. They never mixed or outweighed each other. They both had a place within. If it wasn’t for the overwhelming gratitude for just having crossed paths with her in this life and the knowledge of how wonderful she was, the pain would have been so much more difficult to bear. But the pain did not touch the gratitude, making it so I had that to lean on to carry me through it.

While the pain and joy were both equal, in fact, the joy was even deeper, I had to eventually give into the pain and let her go around three years later – the depression lifted after two months but the heartbreak continued – I stayed in love with her for the next couple years, after I stopped looking at all her content. I stalked it for a few years, then stopped, still actively loved her for a couple more years even after cutting off all contact with her content, til it eventually faded. It mellowed and gradually faded til it flickered out completely and thoughts of her were no longer painful or joyful. For a while I was still embarrassed and hoped she deleted the messages. LoL 😆 Kind of still low-key embarrassed.

Another thing that helped me get over her is leaning into the selfless aspect of my love for her. There was a part of that love that wasn’t for me. A part that wanted nothing but for her to be happy, healthy, fulfilled. A part that did not yearn or attach or expect. I seized that small but powerful aspect and leaned into it, nourished it, clung to it, until it grew, strengthened, deepened, magnified, and became enough.

That aspect of my love reminded me what an honor it was to get to feel this love for someone, it let me know my love wasn’t in vain, that it still mattered, still counted for something. It showed me the beauty in loving at a distance, of carrying a love so strong for someone I will never lay eyes on, someone I will never embrace, someone I will never have. It showed me a deep deep selflessness and let me live it each day. It reminded me that it’s a reflection of me, but it’s not about me. I was able to let go of so much of the selfish aspect of love, the part that makes us covet.

The part that expects and demands and is often conditional. I leaned so deeply into the selfless aspect until I submerged, til it eased some of the ache, the burn of rejection, until it made that selfish agonized part softer and softer, until it made me strong enough to endure without crumbling, and then that state gave way to the indifference, the indifference that eventually ensued after all the heartache and ruin, the indifference that set me free and gave me my life back.

In fact, the kind of person she was is one of the things that inspired me to cope and eventually heal. She was the kind of person who saw beauty in pain and brokenness, art in imperfection, she saw love & life & light in dark places, and a chance for healing in deep wounds. I harnessed that energy. And I put it to use in myself. I saw beauty in my pain and the brokenness of unrequited love. I saw my life of loving her as a beautiful novel, like the novels she read full of dark and despair, full of heartache, but also so much love and beauty. I saw love & life & light in my darkness, and I saw my wound, my deep deep gaping wound, as an opportunity to nourish and heal a part of myself that was so shattered. And I leaned into this.

The person I allowed to break me because I depended so much on and expected so much of her is the very person I leaned on to inspire me to heal that brokenness. Loving her so deeply for so long, she became my way of life, and that way helped me move forward out of the devastation that came upon my world. She was my darkness & my light, my joy and my pain, my despair & my hope, she’s the one I clung to so desperately for so long and the one who taught me how to let go. The one who brought me to ruin and my savior who pulled me out of that ruin. There was a beautiful irony in all of this that wasn’t lost on me. It’s a true story that she would have read and found so beautiful.

To keep dwelling on her and stalking her (lol) was keeping me in agony and doing me no good. The pain had more of a destructive effect overall than the joy had a positive effect. The pain was about not having her as my own but also the fact of being rejected and not understanding why. I know everyone doesn’t like everyone, especially not in a deep way, but she did not even want me as an online friend anymore.

It was hard to cope and understand. I had very good self esteem, always have, and this rejection was a blow to it. The fact that she responded to everyone else, even strangers, and loved everyone, but rejected me, made it so much more difficult to cope. One of my messages to her was about my s*icidal depression, something she talked about very frequently, about herself. She was very very open about her struggle.

I told her about my own struggle, which is very similar to hers. I’m open about it in general but told her more than I ever told anyone because I felt this deep connection to her in our similar struggle. I told her that I too sometimes come close to ending myself. It cut me so deeply because shortly after I sent her the message about my depression and sometimes s*icidal thoughts(I sent this a while after the love letter), she posted, “To anyone considering s*icide, please remember this world needs you.”

And she posted the s*icide hotline. To see her care about everyone else and not me was devastating. I felt like it was a slap in the face. Not that I was entitled to her love or a response but that did not make my pain any less to see my own pain ignored and me rejected but that she cared about other s*icidal people. It’s hard to explain without sounding entitled. I in no way felt that she owed me anything(I even remember feeling guilty for my pain and sense of rejection, telling myself she doesn’t owe me a thing, that I’m the one who found and came at her), but it did not make me want it any less. I wasn’t angry or bitter but devastated.

I felt that I wasn’t good enough for anyone after the rejection and took a while to recover. I couldn’t cope knowing “the most amazing person who ever walked the face of the Earth” did not love me. lol It was a matter of “If I can’t have her, I don’t want anyone.” It was like we were made for each other and if I can’t have her what’s the sense of having anyone? It was one of the deepest, most intimate loves I have ever known and I was sure I would never feel it again. I thought I would never get over it. I couldn’t understand why she did not feel the same.

She was so out of my league in every way, but I know that’s not why she rejected me. She wasn’t arrogant and dated/was friends with people of lower status.

Everything was so perfect and compatible, even our location was close(this is one of the main reasons for my pain, it was so tantalizing to have her so close in location but not have her, it would have been perfect). She loved women, so not like she was creeped out that another woman was in love with her. Also, she, like me, was very social and added strangers to her account.

And she was promiscuous, hooked up with lots of women and men she hardly knew and did not know at all, and was very open about it, even going into detail about her usual hookups, how she cheated on her now ex husband with a married man and it ruining both of their marriages, and drunken hookups and abortions and stuff, so I don’t think she cared that someone she hardly knew messaged her, probably all my sap creeped her out(it was a long love letter of nothing but praise and how I understand her completely and how we would be so good together forever – I’m laughing now lol I probably sounded desperate and clingy).

Her rejection did not weaken my love for her at all. It made no sense to me how, why we both existed in this same life together, so so alike, so compatible, my love for her so strong, yet we couldn’t have each other or have any interaction at all with each other.

I felt like the uni-verse made us for each other. And I couldn’t make sense of the fact that she did not like me even just a little bit. It made no sense. On top of my amazing self esteem thinking I was the shiz just in general and that anyone could like me (oh how this has changed), the fact we were both so similar, and that she basically loved everyone, I thought she was bound to like me. So I was totally confused and shocked to be rejected even as an online acquaintance. The devastation was debilitating.

We were similar in even ways that can’t be explained, like quirks that you think only you experience, or just little things that you think make you you and no one else can be like that. I was amazed! I never send friend requests, but I did send her one, and she accepted. She was more active on Insta, which I did not have, and her blog, and YouTube channel. She never liked or commented on any of my posts or pictures on social media. But she did occasionally respond to my comments to her or like them. We did not really interact much as friends, though.

Just out of nowhere, for some reason, I chose to be bold and tell her that I loved her. Have no idea what possessed me. LoL I remember my heart was pounding in anticipation as I was sending it and expecting a response that she would love to meet me again.

I remember waking up one morning and on the spur of the moment thinking “I think I’ll tell her I love her today.” I jumped out of bed, literally. LoL I sprung up and jumped with joy at the thought of connecting with her. I worked all day on the messages and poured my heart and soul into them. It took me days to get everything written out and edited and then finally I sent two messages and waited.

For days I waited and she wouldn’t respond. I would see her keep posting on social media and not responding to me. Actually what I remember is, she was very active on social media/blog/YouTube… posted every single day, all throughout the day. And after I sent her the messages, she stopped posting everywhere for a few days. That was extremely unusual for her. Then she came back and began posting everyday again but not responding to me.

Then finally she unfriended my account. Imagine the initial sting of clicking on her account and seeing “Add friend” and then the deep deep pain of all that entailed and implied, of everything it meant. I hoped so much she would change her mind and held out hope til I finally had to accept she wasn’t going to respond and did not love me. The first thing I thought is that I came on too strongly.

I only did because she was that kind of person, herself. If she was more reserved, even if I liked her, I wouldn’t have sent messages like that. She talked about how she scared men away who she was dating or into because of how much emotion and love she had. She was kind of clingy. And she talked about how she overshared about everything, way too often, with everyone, even strangers.

And I saw that in her YouTube videos, and she would stop and say “Wait, was that too much information?” LoL It would make me laugh. She said the more we share about ourselves, even ugly and awkward things, the more people have the opportunity to know us and therefore love us. And also that it empowers others to be themselves and feel less alone. I wholeheartedly agreed. I wrote to her one day that there is no such thing as too much information or too much love.

Maybe she just couldn’t handle being the recipient, herself.It absolutely k!lled me wondering why others were good enough for her but not me. She had many lovers and friends and acquaintances and even strangers who she expressed love for through the years. She was a hopeless romantic and was sad to be single but she couldn’t get a relationship to work. I would have been overjoyed even to be a casual acquaintance and have even a fraction of her love.

Suddenly, a man showed up in all her pictures and blog posts and videos, constantly talking about how amazing he is. She said he wasn’t a boyfriend, but a very close platonic friend, and they were always holding hands and kissing on the cheek, and going to weddings and restaurants together. He was always calling her his girl and Babe and posting pics of her on his own account(I stalked his account, bitter at him for stealing my woman and the nerve to call her Babe 😆 I thought of her as my babe and my sweetheart, my girl) and she called him “my guy” and “my man” and posted pics of him on her account. It destroyed me because it was like the relationship I wanted with her.

But I focused more on my love for her than the pain after a while and was able to be happy she found a true friend even though I still experienced such deep pain for myself. It was hard not to be jealous of him. Like come out of nowhere and get the girl of my dreams. Like gtfoh lol

I remember them celebrating her birthday together and I was torn. In one way I was happy someone was being good to her and she was happy, but another part of me was jealous that I wasn’t included and angry at him for being to her what I wanted to be. It was so difficult. The pictures and posts they would share while out celebrating all night would bring me pain, yet also joy. And I was happy she was happy because I knew her birthdays were difficult for her because she couldn’t stand getting older.

So it was good to see him keeping her uplifted and happy. She also lost her job after a while and he was there to bring her comfort. I was happy but sorry it wasn’t me. I was concerned she would go into an episode of depression and hoped he was keeping her safe. I longed to reach out to her with some words of comfort but knew I couldn’t because she did not want me. I hoped so much he knew how to take care of her like I would.

I remember her posting a picture one day, New Year’s Eve, of her and him cuddled on her sofa together, her head resting on him. Her caption was something like “My main man{and his name}, I couldn’t have done this year without you.” I had mixed emotions about it. Part of me was thankful she had someone helping her through her difficult year. But so much of me was in anguish that I wasn’t in his position. It was an inner struggle of true love being happy for her but a selfish pain that it wasn’t me making her happy and giving her love and receiving her love. I experienced both gratitude and resentment for him. I would so so much prefer her to have him than no one and even have him over me if it’s what she genuinely wanted. But I wanted her to want me.

I was so pissed when he changed his Facebook and Instagram default photos to a picture of just her.

“I see you driving round town with the girl I love, and I’m like fuck you.” 😆😆

I was in so much pain every day and night. Emotionally and physically. The rejection triggered the two months long depressive episode to begin with. But through the years every once in a while I would go into another episode, usually lasting a month, about it. It would lift, and I would go back to the regular pain about it. I lived a regular happy life in general, just carried this pain with me that would flare once in a while.

Sometimes I would go a while without looking at her content or thinking of her much, then would look at her social media account, and a depressive episode/wave would be triggered. Or sometimes I would be in a low mood that I call a gateway state to depression; it’s not depression itself or even necessarily unhappiness but a tender state where I can feel if I’m not careful, I can become depressed. If I would think too much about her or check her social media accounts/blogs in this state, a depressive episode or wave could hit. This happened off and on til I was no longer interested in her.

My head throbbed relentlessly and the heartache was unbearable. I clung to anything I could for any bit of consolation. The main thing I found solace in was reading. I threw myself into books and read more than I ever read before. Mystery thrillers that kept me guessing what would happen next, intellectual readings to keep my mind active and thinking, personal development books that gave me tips for coping… anything to take my mind off her and my depression.

It was a mixture of grief and depression and it was Hell on Earth. Everything I read I would wish I could tell her about. She loved to read, too. I wanted to read books together and have hours long discussions. Every love song, I thought of her.

She had very low self esteem, body image issues, and bad luck with relationships. She dated people of any genders but especially men and had no luck. This is something that was getting to her. She said she felt lonely and left out everywhere, and I wanted to run to her rescue. I felt that I could make up for all those failed relationships of hers with all the love I had to give. I’m not this arrogant anymore.

She knocked me down a few pegs and I never quite got back up. Today, I don’t feel I have anything any woman could want or need. I don’t feel I’m loveable and think any woman can do better.

I used to be very arrogant, way back when. I thought I was all that and a bag of skittles. I remembered constantly feeling that arrogance, wearing it like a badge. I cringe now. I thought anyone who truly knew me, the real me, would love me. I thought I could heal people and make up for what they lost or have been lacking. To be this arrogant and show someone I would lay down my own life for, the deepest parts of myself, the authentic me, and being rejected was more than I could bear.

It shook my sense of self. Suddenly, I felt good enough for no one. I stopped complimenting people as much, stopped offering hugs, stopped showing up for anyone, feeling like I had nothing to offer. I’m glad she put me in my place and knocked me off of the pedestal I placed myself on because no one has any place being that full of themselves. I only wish it just humbled me, but instead, it gave me some self-esteem/worth issues.

The rejection of someone I loved with every fiber of my being and was ready and willing to love wholeheartedly, it just cuts so deeply and hits hard. She was a very emotionally unhealthy and complicated person when I think back, full of insecurities, and I longed to put them all to rest. I wanted to make her better so she wouldn’t have to suffer anymore, because I loved her and she was a good person.

She was a trainwreck, and it probably wouldn’t have been all rainbows and butterflies to get to love her, though I still would. Love isn’t supposed to be all perfection and happiness. (It shouldn’t be toxic either though, and thinking back, I have an inkling it could have been, with her, but I thought I would be able to calm her and make it so we have an easy love and life together) I loved her unconditionally.

I felt we were made to belong to each other. Like we were written in the stars. Sometimes on very rare occasions I have a feeling like there was a glitch somewhere in the uni-verse and we were made for each other but that glitch interfered. I don’t actually believe this, just a metaphor or something for a feeling I have.

Sometimes I wonder if there was some freak string of coincidental glitches in algorithms or something and she did not receive my messages and also accidentally got off my friends list. This can happen. Someone can accidentally get unfriended/unfollowed on social media. It has happened to me before. When I was sending her the e-mails, they wouldn’t go through at first. It kept saying there was an unexpected error, and I had to keep resending. But they did show up in my sent box, eventually. So they seemed to have gone through. It’s more likely she did receive them and unfriended my account. It seems too coincidental to get unfriended so close to after sending e-mails.

Sometimes when I think it could have been a mistake and she never received it because of a glitch in e-mail systems, and FB had some glitch, I experience a physiological reaction, a clenching in my gut, a dizzy sickly sensation, a fear sensation in my chest, an almost sweating sensation in the palms of my hands, to think it’s possible she could have loved me and we could have been together forever but it was prevented by a glitch. Though sometimes this thought has thrilled me, thinking there could still be a chance. Maybe I’ll run into her on the streets one day and she’ll send my heart racing and she’ll remember me and approach me first and all the stars will align and we’ll finally be together for the rest of forever. And one day I’ll tell her and we’ll laugh about it. A girl can dream.

But other occasions I was so mortified at the thought of rejection and looking clingy and overly sappy, that I preferred that she just did not see them than rejected me. For the most part now, I’m indifferent. It’s like either way, whatevz. Though it seems a bit unfortunate if she just did not see my messages. What a potentially beautiful thing possibly destroyed before it ever came to be, all because of a couple online glitches.

It was probably just all my sap was a big turn off lol 😆 Or it could have been the age thing, I guess. I’m her age when we first met, and I wouldn’t give a 21 year old a second glance either lol

So much of the obsession and pain was about not getting to have any contact with her but seeing her whole life displayed across my phone screen and along with that, knowing she did not like me, even just a little bit, when I found her to be so amazing. She was so open about herself and life and constantly shared. Even if she was just a customer at my job back then who chatted with me once in a while, I would have loved it. But we weren’t in each other’s lives at all, never even talked online much.

Last year, 15+ years since seeing her in person, and just less than 10 years after last seeing her social media content or hearing anything about her, I decided to look up her Instagram account. Writing that story about her just rekindled some interest. I know a lot can change in a decade. But I knew her so well all those years ago, that I knew her account would still be public. We both have always said we would never have our accounts not public.

My hands trembled as I searched her name. My body felt like jelly. My mouth dried up. My heart raced. I was terrified of what I may find. She was so s.uicidal so frequently, I feared she may have taken her own life at some point through the years. I begged the uni-verse to not let it be so, even though I did not believe it has that power. I also feared what emotions & love may come flooding back to destroy me. Even though I haven’t seen her in years and we were never friends, the fear that she could be gone, was the same as if I was waiting to see about my close friend or family member.

Her Instagram account was still public. And she was very much alive and doing well! It made me so happy. At close to 60 years old, she is as beautiful & youthful as I remember, now rockin’ some beautiful grey hair. It was surreal to see some of the same old posts of hers I saw 10+ years ago and remembered like it was yesterday.

Memories came back but no longing. Seeing snapshots of her life and pictures of her now did not affect me. There is one post I saw, though, that felt like a hard slap in the face. A picture of her with lifelong friends and a caption that says “Some people are meant to be in your life forever.” I couldn’t help but wonder all over again why not me, what do they have that I don’t, what does she not see in me that it’s not worth being my friend, or what does see she in me that she doesn’t like yet loves everyone else. That was just a fleeting thought.

I never looked again after that once last year. No point. We’ll never be friends, she set a boundary with me when she unfriended me all those years ago. I was afraid also of accidentally liking a post of hers or Instagram start suggesting to her that we be friends lol I would die. She’s the kind of person who keeps tabs on people she ghosts or hardly knew, so she could still be looking at mine.

But recently, something strange happened that rocked my world. It affected me more than I imagined it would. And i can’t seem to shake it. There was a moment where I thought “I am not ok.” I was doing research on Philadelphia history, a topic we both love. I was looking up a particular topic and saw a news article come up. The preview was inspiring & heartwarming. It hit me in a tender place and tugged on my heartstrings. It gave me a feeling of “home.” I felt connected to whoever wrote it. I felt like we knew each other. There was a familiar knowing. Like in a “spiritual” sense. Or a soul connection way, not necessarily like we met before in the flesh.

I was going to use it in my own post, giving credit to the author. Then I noticed the source. I remembered she was once a writer for them, and this topic was something close to her heart. I felt a surge of fear. I just knew she was going to be the author. I clicked on it, and sure enough, it was a piece she wrote some years ago. She always added a deeply personal touch to even her professional pieces, pouring her heart & soul into them. It could be the most professional, cold, clinical, official topic, and she would make it human.

I read it, and remembered why I loved her all those years ago. I began to mourn all those years we weren’t friends. I have buried them deep within, but still, their ghosts haunt me. All that wondering why came flooding back. We were so intellectually & emotionally aligned and compatible. It ripped open old wounds to see that article and the author’s name. I felt a dam deep within, threatening to break, unleashing all that old love and pain. And I felt the lack of that kind of connection with another woman in my own life today. I miss her. I miss loving her when there was still potential to be loved back.

Finding her again, out in the wild, sort of, was bittersweet. She’ll always be one of my soulmates, and a place in my heart will always be reserved just for her ❤️

I desire you
more than food
and drink

My body
my senses
my mind
hunger for your taste

I can sense your presence
in my heart
although you belong
to all the world

I wait
with silent passion
for one gesture
one glance
from you

Something Stupid – Frank & Nancy Sinatra

Xoxo Kim 💚

It’s a…..BOY!! 💙 {I’m not preggo😆}

Random recent photo of me ❤️

“The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where
Who knows where
But, I’m strong
Strong enough to carry him
He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother
So, on we go
His welfare is my concern
No burden is he to bear
We’ll get there
For I know
He would not encumber me
He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother💙

He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother – Bill Medley

I did not want to trick anyone for a few seconds but couldn’t think of a more fitting title to this post. Lol

OMGOMGOMG!!!

I received some HAPPY news!! It made my heart skip a beat, literally lol. It’s like something inside me shifted in a deep way, and I’m not the same me I was before. And, I just have to share!

I’m not having a baby, but…

It’s a……BOY!!! 💙

And I’m glowing!
🤣😂

I just found out I have a kidney brother!!!

I’m overwhelmed.

It’s the most heartwarming thing, to find out about the person I share a set of kidneys with.

This must be the same feeling expectant mamas feel when the ultrasound tech/doctor says “It’s a boy” or “It’s a girl.” (Yeah, I know they can’t actually know til the gender identity develops a few years later, but it’s still a happy moment) A surreal, awe-inspired feeling. And, it doesn’t even matter the personality or anything or if it’s mutual, just unconditional love.

Last year, I volunteered to give my kidney to the next person on the waitlist in the U.S. who I matched with.

January 2024 💚💙🫘

It was given to a fifty-something-year-old man in Minnesota.

I just found out!

I knew he’s in Minnesota (I’m in Pennsylvania) and that his transplant was a success (our kidney began working instantly after it was connected to his body), but did not know the age or gender.

I had a feeling all along that my kidney would go to a man. It was like a gut feeling.

I did not care about the gender or age of the person who would receive my kidney; everyone wants to live & be healthy, no matter our age/gender. But, I was slightly curious. At first, I was a little bit curious. Then that curiosity began to fade to where I was almost indifferent. Then after almost a year, the curiosity came back and more intensely. I thought I would never know.

I feel like an identical twin missing my other half as if we were separated at birth, a feeling that just crept up on me after around a year. Lol (I guess we’re not identical though as we don’t have the same exact anatomy 😆)

Now, I learned through my transplant team that he’s a 50-something-year-old man. We’re anonymous strangers, so that’s all I know.

It made me so happy to receive even just that little bit of information. Like an indescribable feeling. Happiness & warmth. Awe. It adds to my experience and makes the person less an abstract concept and more human in my mind. Just to have a general idea in my head of the person who traveled this journey with me and laid on an operating table the same morning I did, a few states away, so our destinies became one.


It made the whole experience really sink in.

To receive this news makes me even happier than I realized it would. 💙💙💙 It’s one of the most amazing happiest experiences of this whole life of mine. I did not know just what I was missing til I found out. There’s no way to even put it into words.

It’s like having a long-lost brother out there somewhere. He’s a complete stranger to me, yet he’s my own flesh & bl0od. He literally has a piece of me inside of him.

Now, I want to meet him 😆😭😍

I have two kidney brothers now because my kidney voucher recipient is also a man. Lol When we donate our kidney to “the next person on the waitlist,” we get to choose any specific person in the country to also receive a new kidney through our donation (we can choose five people, and the first one to receive the kidney, the others get canceled out. I made sure to only choose one so as not to get someone’s hopes up, then someone else gets it first, or so he wouldn’t have anxiety all along that maybe someone else would get it first and cancel out his place).

I looked for another stranger in need since I did not know anyone who needed a kidney transplant. I heard about a man who lives close to where I do who was in urgent need. After I donated my kidney to an anonymous stranger, he got his new kidney through my donation. I did get to meet him in person, and we’re friends on Facebook! 💚

Two new (kidney) brothers. How lucky am I?! 😁 Never had a brother before! 🫘

Xoxo Kim 💕

Sometimes people are beautiful ❄️

“Sometimes people are beautiful.
Not in looks.
Not in what they say.
Just in what they are.” ❄️

In January 2024 when I was in Penn hospital after my kidney donor surgery I had a very special visitor. A stranger. She was like an angel.

I was laying in my hospital bed so sick and couldn’t even sit up. I had a catheter and IV’s in. My body was exhausted and super sick feeling.

A woman walked into my hospital room and introduced herself as a retired nurse named Donna. She was grandmotherly and had the most loving presence. She was going around to the hospital rooms to cheer up the patients and give us gifts. Coloring books and colored pencils and magazines and crossword puzzles, and journals and stress balls. And just various things to distract & uplift us.

I lovingly think of her as Nurse Donna.

The moment she stepped into my room and said hello my exhaustion & severe headache, that even IV pain meds/anti nausea meds wouldn’t touch, disappeared. I instantly sat up because of the surprise of how my body suddenly felt completely healed. She asked me if I minded her company. I said no. I was so thankful for it. I told her how her just being there seemed to heal me and that her presence & energy was just so warm & healing. She said she felt the same about me. I was surprised. It sounded so sincere. I wasn’t even telling her to flatter her or be kind or get a compliment in return. I was truly surprised and baffled.

No one else, even people I liked and the most uplifting people, made my body feel completely normal. I couldn’t even sit up when anyone else came into the room. I was so sick I had to stay an extra day in the hospital and have an extra IV because I couldn’t get up or drink anything.

Nurse Donna gave me various gifts. Then she held up something else. This bookmark in the picture here. She told me her young granddaughter, Turner, made it and told her to give it to someone special at the hospital, whatever patient she thought should have it most. The holidays were over so Nurse Donna wasn’t sure anyone would want it. She was hoping someone would because her granddaughter was so happy to have made it for “someone special.” She asked me if I would like to have it. She said she had a feeling I would.

I LOVE the holiday season & Winter. All year I wait for it to return. I told her that and that I would love to have her granddaughter’s bookmark. She was so moved and said she found the right person and was thrilled to tell her granddaughter later how much I love it. She told me some things about her family. It was so uplifting. I hope her granddaughter never outgrows making her beautiful gifts.

After she walked out of the room I experienced a sad feeling and sense of loss. I loved her presence and energy and felt like our conversation ended too soon. I felt there was more to know about each other. But she did not work there, she was only a visitor. So I knew I would likely never see her again. I just had this overwhelming feeling that I was “meant to” share more with her.

Not long later she returned to my hospital room. She apologized for the “intrusion.” She had the same feeling I did and felt the need to come back and express it to me before I even told her I had the same feeling. She said she felt like there was more to know about me. She told me she doesn’t usually ask too much about the patients, that she just gives them gifts, says a few kind words, and leaves. But me, she said she felt like I was “special.” I was so pleasantly surprised at the coincidence. She said something drew her back to my hospital room.

She told me she knew I was a transplant patient. That’s all the hospital staff was allowed to tell her. She asked if I would mind telling her my story but that she would understand if not. I was delighted. She is the very first person I had the honor of telling my experience to after my surgery.

I told her I just donated my kidney earlier that morning to the next person on the wait list here in the U.S. Just thinking about that gives me chills. It was the most amazing thing to get to say that out loud for the first time after almost twenty years of it being my dream. It was (still is) surreal.

Instantly her eyes filled with tears, and she just stared at me as if awestruck. She said it was the most amazing thing she ever heard and that she never met someone who has ever done something like that and that she couldn’t wait to tell the ladies in her group and her grandchildren. I remember her saying “You have no idea who has your kidney, and I bet you don’t even care, do you?” I said no.

She said she was so honored to be standing in my hospital room. Her grandson could have needed an organ transplant but thankfully it was prevented. She said she knew he would be so moved that she met a living organ donor.

She told me she hopes I live a long happy healthy life and have everything I ever dreamed of. That was so kind of her.

I just pulled this out to look at for the holiday season. I will hold onto it forever. It holds so much meaning and was made with love by a little girl who knew someone out there somewhere needed it. She signed her name on the back. How honored am I that of all the people in the city/hospital I’m the one to have received it. I wish so much I could find Nurse Donna and tell her I still have it & love it so she can tell her granddaughter.

Maybe one day I will. 🎄

After that encounter I never came across Nurse Donna again. But she’s one person I’ll vividly remember for as long as I live. I have a feeling we may cross paths again someday. I know she’ll remember me because it’s hard to forget an altruistic kidney donor 😆 The chances of meeting one are negligible, on a podcast episode I heard that we’re “statistically no one.” We’re less common than people who can wiggle both ears lol And I’ll know & recognize that loving energy & warm smile anywhere.

I love Nurse Donna the same as if we were friends. It doesn’t matter that I only knew her for less than a half hour and never saw her again, it feels like I know her whenever I think of her. Some people are that remarkable.

It’s amazing how one person can impact someone for life in just a few moments of knowing each other. And not because of anything they do or say but because of the pure love they radiate. 💚

Anyone who wants is welcome to share your own experience with a brief encounter with a kind stranger who touched your life for the better. I love stories like that.

(If anyone knows {retired} Nurse Donna who volunteers with Headstrong cancer foundation and gives sweet gifts to the patients at HUP, or her granddaughter, Turner, please direct her to this post. Thank you in advance lol)

Sending love to all 💚

Xoxo Kim 😘❤️