Trans-Related Life Experiences:
So, where to start? I guess with one of my earliest memories. At 4 years old, I told my parents I was a girl. They "corrected" me and I ended up throwing a tantrum. At that age, I also pretended to be a girl when I played alone, even wearing a blanket like a dress while I talked to my stuffed animals (of which, my parents said I had too many). I often prayed when I still believed, wished that I'd wake up the next morning as a girl.
As I grew a bit, I learned that displaying feminine traits would often get me bullied by my peers and even by my own parents. So, with that, I began repressing my femininity. Repression led to self-hatred around the start of puberty. It felt as if my body had started to betray me. The first day of school after the summer my voice dropped, some of my friends made a big deal out of my voice changing, saying how I sounded like a man. I did my best to not cry in that moment.
As I entered my teenage years, puberty continued to make things... weird. Gender dysphoria was becoming harder to repress, and it led to a confusing era of identity experimentation. I first started crossdressing at 14, starting with a pair of my mom's heels.
I remember the night it happened, too. On the computer at midnight during the summer, and I saw the pair of shoes out of the corner of my eye. I remember not knowing why, but just wanting to try them on. One Google search of, "does crossdressing make me gay" later (because, y'know, this was the early 2010s and I didn't know I wasn't a guy) and I decided to try on the shoes. Size 7 pumps with I think a 2.5" heel; the brand was Madden Girl, I think, and they were a reddish brown, shiny pair of my mom's work shoes (she was a bank teller), and they were on the floor next to the coffee table, and then they were on my feet. They actually fit me comfortably, so I stood up and tried walking around. It was suprisingly easy to get around in them. I went into the bathroom, to look in the full body mirror and I thought to myself, "I have feminine legs," which... immediately threw me into a confused state. I kicked off the heels and tried to distract myself from the thoughts.
As time went on, I wore almost every dress, skirt, blouse, and pair of shoes that my mom had, I experimented with makeup, and I started painting my nails - all in secret, and all only while I was home alone. With this gender experimentation came a lot of research. I learned about a few terms: "transgender," "gender identity disorder," etc. I began to really question my identity in full, constantly wondering whether I was "really trans" or just "faking it" (aka imposter syndrome).
I came out to some of my friends around age 16, one of which ended up giving me a pep talk, helping me work up the courage to tell my mom how I was feeling. Despite some confusion on my mom's part, that conversation went pretty well; thanks, Ethan. After that, I was worried about coming out to my dad. I knew I had to, but I was fearful of telling my Republican father that I was trans (I had read a bunch of horror stories about conservative parents abandoning their queer children, or worse).
I eventually did tell my dad, but... not how I planned to. One day, after getting off the bus like usual, I noticed my dad (who was picking me up, as usual) was focused straight ahead of him, not looking at me. Then I noticed his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, and the almost blank expression on his face. All he said when I got in his truck was, "We need to talk." I panicked internally, wondering what was about to happen. He pulled away from the bus stop, but went in the opposite direction of the house. My panic grew as he pulled off into an area most hunters park in during hunting season; I knew he had a gun in the glovebox, and knew we were about to enter state game lands; I legitimately thought he was going to kill me. But... when he parked and finally turned off the engine he just took a deep breath and looked at me with a worried expression. He asked me, "Is there anything you need to tell me?" And so I spilled my guts. Turns out, my mom told him and he took it upon himself to research everything before I got out of school. He knew what the trans flag looked like before I even knew it existed.
Side note: My father is not a good man. I'll get into that as I post more here.
I ended up coming out publicly in May of 2016, as I had stopped physically attending school (long story, but I still graduated, just didn't attend for the last 2 and a half months. It was tough at first. I didn't pass very well, plus I was in a small town, so I got a lot of stares and such in public. I started HRT in July of 2016, and it was definitely an improvement.
Now, here I am. Almost 8 years out of the closet, almost 8 years on HRT, and... the changes have been very welcome. I pass in daily life, I'm beautiful, and I've really found out who I truly am. Life's gotten a lot better, and I'm hoping to be here for plenty more years.
Shh... don't wake her up.
