I am taking this week's trigger episode as a heads up to inventory and bolster emergency provisions within my psychotherapy program. It is election year. The They Rants are not likely to let up until November after the ballots are cast. "They" hunting season is on. Verbal sniper shots are everywhere. Everybody is a member of some opposing "They." Even me. I am sometimes amused and more often angered by The Theys individuals who don't even know my name assign me to. These individuals seldom realize they are pushing my military training buttons. These individuals most often AssUMe I just another female stereotype. NONE of them ever spot me as a sex trafficking survivor. A peculiar blend of Rambette meets Dickens?

In my strictly personal herstory of long and fierce paranoid delusions, my breakthrough therapy was, "Defining Them." Making sure all of my "They's" have names and faces. It is allot harder to pull an uzi High School Sally or Bob than it is to pull an uzi on a cafeteria full of strangers and bullies.

The sneakiest of my They Clans have no names and I have to reach past entirely too many traumas to recall their faces. These, of course, would be the Janes and Johns who patronized the kiddie whore houses or set traps for me just outside the door of the kiddie whore houses.

Sorting the phantoms. . . Small bytes and long chews. . .

Support and prayers needed.