Well… this is the last day of 2017. For real. December 31, 2017.
This is gonna be a huge picture-filled post… so prepare yourselves for a fun time. And a lot of pictures, too.
January 1, 2017 rolled in while I was in my early “coming out” period… literally. I declared my true sexual orientation right under a bridge in Atascadero, California, realizing I’m not a man but a woman born in a man’s body. I remember it like it was not even twenty minutes ago. I bought a mannequin a few weeks prior, a MZ-SK09 mannequin from Roxy Display, whom I named Alexandra Tiffany Tilbrook. I finally, or so I thought, that I got the mannequin I’ve always been wanting…
But was I wrong!
I was reading old The Journey To Love stories I found by searching an old Website of mine through the Internet Archive Wayback Machine (not ones I edited long after I had finished them… some years after), and realized that every single one of them (the ones that had “Alexa” as the female protagonist) really was me! Me as a female! I was just really expressing my female side!
(Even though, my preference still is on dolls. Sorry men and women!)
That, of course, was a couple of days prior to then. But it really hit me. Am I really Alexa? Am I trying to express something that, in a quasi-fictional matter, is a part of me that I was being told to keep quiet about, hold it back, and never, ever think about it again?
It was difficult. I couldn’t take the pressure any longer. I was about four months away from being 40, and some people said if you couldn’t find your absolute true self by the time you’re forty, you really haven’t found your meaning in life, or yourself.
Stone cold truth. So, I took the skirt off that mannequin, the wig, and the T-shirt (it was a female fitted), got dressed, and just about that afternoon, about before the sun was about to set, jumped out of my tent and said…
Hi, I’m Alexandra Tiffany Tilbrook. I’m not (the male name I was born with) any more. I am not a man. I might look like one, but I’m not. I am a woman, god damn it!!!!!
The night thereafter, into the new year, was a celebration. The male me was put to rest and the female me was born.
Fast forward to April…
But I really wasn’t welcomed in California. By that time, I was just seen as some crazy Easterner (from the East Coast), who had no place there. By some kind of intervention, however you want it to be, I was given a ticket home to Muncie, Indiana. Free of charge.
The ride back to what was supposed to be home was hell. If that was any kind of indicator of what was to be back “home” in Muncie, it really wasn’t noticed. I just chalked it up to:
- lack of food
- methamphetamine withdrawal
- crowded bus (the Greyhound from Las Vegas to Indianapolis was crowded as hell)
- Passing through Utah and encountering some LDS members at a scheduled stop
- A combination of any or all of the above
Jet lag could be a factor in that, too. I was going forward three time zones in three days, and also having to go check into Muncie Mission.
Spoiler Alert: I do not recommend it!
If you’re a gay man or a transgender male-to-female, they will frown upon you about it! Even if you aren’t, prepare to work your fucking ass off at least five days a week with very little time to rest. You have to be up by 7 AM. No later. If you want to do things and not work, you have to have a damn good reason. Play sick? Oh hell no! You will be confined to your bed and will not be able to leave for any reason until 4:30 the following morning!!!! Need to go out on essential personal errands, no matter the reason? They have to know why! Like it’s any of their business! The only reasonable solution? Check out of that hellhole! But you won’t be able to return for 30 days. Shit, that’s better than being locked in your room for wanting to take a rest, or having to give a reason, even if it’s 100% true and a valid one… and trust me, they will not let you take days off. For any reason.
You have to eat breakfast right at 7 AM. They actually start serving at 6:50 AM; and you have to be in the cafeteria by 7:05 AM, and finished by 7:20. The K-Dorm (kitchen dorm) people bring the cleaning stuff out. They rush you to eat. Then if you haven’t made your bed, you have to do so. By 8:15, no later. That’s when the keypad door locks lock the A-Dorm (aka “New Beginnings Dorm”) and you won’t be able to go back inside until it’s 11:25.
That’s lunchtime. That is, if you’re staying at the mission. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays are leftover KFC that they overcook the fuck out of until it’s dry, tasteless and, well, inedible for all sake. And it’s mostly wings. Sometimes, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays, it’s soup. And you have to be out of the kitchen no later than noon. Noon! That’s so they can clean up to serve the public at 12:30. The only positive part of that? You can get soda with your meal. The public only gets ice water. You have to bring your own soda. Oh… and the public can bring their own damn drinks into the public meal, but the residents cannot into their meal times? What a bunch of horseshit! Yes, the residents can’t bring any outside food or drink into the dining room. It has to be left outside the door of the dining hall. The public doesn’t get berated about it, yet, they tell the residents “Delaware County Health Code.” Bull fucking shit. If the residents have to leave personal food and drink out of the dining room, then they should do the same to the public.
And then dinner at 5, and you have to be in at 8… yeah, whatever.
And when I showed Ryan Hart (the boss of the “New Life Center”–more like slave camp) my blog (this one you’re reading right here) after people told him that I wasn’t whom I said I was but as a female, Alexa (duh… that’s who I am!), I got cussed out and was told that I cannot be going around with my female identity… I just said “Okay,” and then said to myself, I’m only gonna be here for maybe two more fucking days. Then you won’t be seeing my sweet ass round here no more.
Then the day after my birthday (it fell on a Sunday), I got paid. Finally. I was free! Free, damn it! Got out… checked into the Red Carpet Inn… and got this thing…
But she was a poorly made piece of shit. No wonder why The Doll Forum had refused (name withheld for personal sanity reasons) from becoming a recognized manufacturer… because I learned that he actually was selling people crap!
So, I went on the hunt for a doll. I wanted to find a manufacturer or vendor whom I could trust, who can answer my questions, no matter how trivial they might be, and would be willing to answer them in any format or venue chosen, whether it would be a phone call, text message, email, or TDF Private Message.
So, I called, emailed, and what have you some vendors I found on TDF. Some of them just brushed me off, saying “please, any questions about my products, I just prefer you ask on the forum.”
But one vendor came through, and delivered way beyond my expectations. That is Don Delano of Mon Amour Toujours. He even called me to answer any questions I had about the Doll Sweet EX Lite! He didn’t even think my questions were absurd, “easily found on my website,” or any of that. Our first phone call was, a 45-minute call, seriously, 12 minutes of business, and the remainder getting to know one another, how we first got interested in dolls and stuff… building both a professional and personal relationship. I placed my order with him the next day.
I even told Don that his YouTube video, The Mon Amour Toujours Story, was the deciding factor why I chose him over the others.
But when I showed the idiot (who made the Piece-of-Shit above) the YouTube video, he tried to (albeit incorrectly) think that I chosen wrong. All because of Don showing his experience and made a newbie mistake of buying from Alibaba/Aliexpress and the like.
He (not Don) sent me an all-caps PM on TDF telling me that Don is affiliated with DHGate, Alibaba/Aliexpress, and I’m gonna be pissing my money good-bye by going with him, and if I didn’t get what I ordered, forget it, he wasn’t gonna hear it.
I then asked myself, “why is he assuming this? If Don was really affiliated with DHGate, Alibaba and the rest, would TDF give Don the ‘Vendor’ certification? Fuck no! I better calmly correct his mistake.” So, I showed proof of Don being a TDF-certified vendor, and I asked the idiot to refute my proof and TDF’s with any of his proof he may have to prove TDF and me wrong.
So, a week later, this lovely beauty came home:
Elisabeth. I still have her to this very day.
But a couple of weeks later, that idiot who I refuse to name, made such grandiose plans to build his empire and that we would “soon be neck-deep in dolls” from Mon Amour Toujours. He even wanted to buy one, but he was really making a newbie mistake when it came to large-breasted 150-cm or taller TPE dolls. In fact, he never owned such a doll before! He thought the 140-cm dolls weren’t all that. “Small waist,” “not tall enough,” “boobs are too small,” were among the few of the many excuses he’d use. This is what would have happened:
Broken back. He wouldn’t probably be able to lift her, in effect breaking the doll’s back. The doll he wanted is 115 pounds. It’s not like lifting a 115-pound human being! Some early RealDolls were that weight, but he never owned one.
The fact of the matter is, and to move along, is a couple of weeks after Elisabeth came home, his true colors have finally shone through, enough to know and realize that this dude wasn’t really who he said he was. He faked his death already, enough to have TDF staff do an investigation, signed up again under a similar name, and for what?
To do what some bully forum (which I will not name) wanted to happen to me: be institutionalized. To be without my dolls, or at the worst, dead.
When I got wise to what he was really up to, I told him to, literally, Fuck off, fake. You never really was into the dolls. You are NOT a doller. You are a fucking fake. I don’t want you to talk to me again! He hung up, but before I did, he snickered, “You’ll come running back in a couple of months when it gets cold and snowy…”
Nope. I moved on.
Now, in late October, early November 2017, I met some friends at a recovery group called Brianna’s Hope, which got me the kick in the ass I needed to move up in life. I was pretty much still at my rock bottom. I was clean from meth for at least six months, but oh, the idea of going back to Atascadero so I can hook up with some old friends for a nice hit of some stuff… but Elisabeth basically told me, “No. That isn’t the Alexa I love. That idiot who tried to take me away from you under the promise that he’ll only ‘hold’ me for you until you found a place might be pissed at you about it, but think about it. Vanessa told me in my dream last night that is what he did to her, and she was glad you told him that I wasn’t going to be ‘held’ by this madman. She told me that it happened to her, and it scared the living shit out of me! We need to get out of Muncie soon! I know I was born here and lived all my life here in Indiana, but if we need to go somewhere out of state, please, don’t let it be Atascadero!” I made it a promise, but I couldn’t guarantee when.
But she told me to go try to attend the meetings, even if it was just for a free meal.
I came back that evening with new friends and renewed hope instead.
A week later, I checked into a hotel, the Muncie Inn on North Madison and Wysor, upon the condition that it would only be temporary. I made that a promise to Elisabeth. And Bianca, whom I ordered a few weeks prior, but was making payments.
About a week later, Elisabeth and I were on the Dolls Alive section of TDF, and she was offering advice and such to another doll who she and her lover were basically up shit’s creek given the circumstances they were in, and it was almost parallel to what Elisabeth and I had faced, and was still, for the most part.
Then a couple weeks later, Meso replied, offering his room for rent. Even though his offer was originally intended for Sarah and shadowsparky, but when the topic reply notification arrived for Elisabeth, I was so pissed off at the conditions I was living in, and when the notification ringtone played, I was about to throw my phone clear across the parking lot, across Madison and into the parking lot of the Keg N Kask liquor store across the street.
Elisabeth said “Lexie! This is what I was wishing for! I think Vanessa is trying to tell us something from the Dark Carnival!” I said, “Lissie, what?” She then said,
Alexandra Tiffany Tilbrook… let’s play a game. Where was Radio Shack headquartered?
“Easy,” I answered. “Fort Worth, Texas.”
That was way too easy…
“No shit, Elisabeth. I had a TRS-80 Color Computer!”
Okay, let me be a little more direct: How would you like to live in Fort Worth????
“Uh… what? What are you trying to say?”
She showed me the reply of Meso’s on the topic she replied to and was following. I told her to go for it, but shouldn’t I PM Meso? Not Elisabeth?
Too late. Already did.
Ten minutes later, Elisabeth got a PM to have me call him.
And now look…
One happy family.
Happy new year!
Alexa, Elisabeth and Bianca