Story of the Woulfe

I have been called quite “unconventional”. I am the black sheep of the family so to speak. I am the only California born and raised from a family that comes solely from Texas and the Southern states as well as Pennsylvania apparently. But me? Well I would probably be shunned if I were to ever go where my blood family is. But that’s okay with me. Your real family is truly chosen right? Anyway. It took ALOT to get to where I am now. I’ll start off with this. I’m a Pansexual Transgender Man. For those of you that may not know what that means, it means I was born biologically female, but as I grew up I realized I was not, despite my efforts to conform. And being Pansexual means I do not care what’s in your pants, it’s your soul, your aura, that attracts me.

Anyway, since I was little I have been through more things than anyone that age should probably have dealt with. Do I regret it? No. Everything I’ve been through has made me into the man I am today. But that’s why I love working with and serving others. I get to give them, to the best of my ability, things I never had when needed. A safe space, a shoulder to cry on, somewhere to go, someone to simply talk to late at night.

When I moved back down to the Los Angeles area (born and raised in Ventura County, CA) from the East Bay Area I felt like a stranger, I officially was an LA reject and living in the Bay Area was a dream! I left Southern California never wanting to look back, but life happened and well here I am once again. But that’s okay. It has been so healing for this blocked off and blackened heart. I realized how many people are actually here for me. And then I drove halfway across the country at the beginning of June 2020.

So I drove to Colorado June 3rd around 10pm California time to meet my current partner for the first time. Was it the smartest decision? No. But we had talked every day and I didn’t feel like I was in any danger staying with him. So I left. Got to Denver around 1am the next day. I planned on only staying a few days but I was having too much fun. I didn’t leave until a week after I originally planned. This is where things get heavy.

(MULTIPLE TRIGGER WARNING.)

Everything was going perfectly and wonderfully. I had some elevation sickness but what was actually going on was that I had contracted HIV due to being raped the night of the party. I didn’t know that until driving back home to California and getting tested after the time needed. I knew I was exposed but was hoping/(praying?) with some sliver of chance that I didn’t get it. But here I am. That’s what support groups are good for. And did I want to fall back into my bad habit of drinking? Oh yea. Did I? Almost… but Nope. I am determined to keep sober. I am working on keeping healthy and keeping my levels undetectable.

(TRIGGERS DONE.)

Anyways, living back down in SoCal has been so healing. Kiddos are the best medicine for healing. You help them but then they help you. They truly are the future. I didn’t realize how many lives I've touched until I moved back down here and have seen the “kids” I used to care for become full grown adults. Now helping them navigate adult life advice has become abit more difficult since I can barely do it myself sometimes. But hey, you learn something new everyday right?