There is of course nothing unwell about the many people who have not wanted to know me, many of my so-called friends, some work colleagues over the past three decades and even members of my extended family. I hardly see my four nieces and nephews, none of whom are interested in the slightest about the real me and what I do (such as writing this Femmosexual Blog) and that includes my only remaining sister…the medico, now retired, who other doctors all believe BECAUSE if I no longer want to know her, or for that matter some of these so-called friends, then according to them, I am going through another ‘episode’ and am obviously unwell. The sad reality of their complete lack of interest in me or who I really am, what I think, how I feel and what I might write, let alone how and why I wasn’t well in 1980, has me believing they are NOT friends, just mere acquaintances passing some time in exchanging the superficialities of life. They’re not friends as I believe real friendship to be; sharing the good times as well as the bad times, and certainly, caring about really knowing who you are spending time with instead of thinking you’re engaging with a character straight out of my books as many of these people think. They’re convinced the books I wrote are me, and certainly, that’s how the psychiatrists, psychologists and the medical professionals I consulted many years ago treated me. No one has been interested in my truth. But for me to reject these people means I am UNWELL, I am manic, psychotic, and possibly violent and out of control as my own sister thought 30 years ago (I gleaned this from my mother afterwards). Moreover, if I DARE once more to talk about myself for a while in the possible hope they might really get to know and feel the REAL me, I am such an egomaniac that it’s always about me! I do have a couple of friends who seem more interested than these acquaintances, but only a couple and I treasure them for standing by me in the face of the stigma shroud that too sadly envelops my reality. But I still love life however I have to struggle to survive, and always say at night before I go to bed ‘there but for the grace of God go I!’ This Femmosexual is still glad albeit luckto be alive!