No longer recognize the place that I call home, No longer recognize this face as my own

Something I’m supposed to be doing before my next appointment with my gender counselor is writing a bit of a personal biography.  So I think this is a great place to work on the pieces and I can put it all together for her.

I’ve always had a strange relationship with gender.  Having both a brother and a sister, I had both ideas to view.  My parent’s never really talked much about something being for boys or for girls only.  They would buy my sister different toys to be sure, but I was always able to play with them, provided I would play with her.  So for most of my childhood I could indulge in feminine activites to some degree.  I also knew I loved women’s clothing and wanted to wear it, but I didn’t get my clothes, so I didn’t get much say in it.

Around the age of 13 I had obtained a few pieces of women’s clothing, as well as a couple of dolls of my own to play with.  I would play for hours in my room, me and my only true friends, about being in a different body, the right body.  Eventually my parents found my secrets, and made it very clear that it wasn’t acceptable.  This wasn’t what little boys do, and it wasn’t acceptable.  I don’t recall being physically punished, but I was watched much closer.  It was never mentioned again.

As a teenager I was very into the goth culture.  Sure I loved the music and I felt like an outsider, but a big draw for me was being able to dress different, wear make up, and not be the stereotpyical boy.  I had pretty well repressed any idea of being in the wrong body.  I just had the body I had, and there was nothing I could do about it, or at least nothing I knew about.  What good would it do think about it?  So I just kinda stopped.

I never thought about mysef much in gender terms after that (and not much before really).  I was just a boy, that’s what everyone said.  I stopped thinking about myself in a lot of ways.  At that time I started relying on others opinions of myself to gain identity.  I’ve cycled through some serious depression in my life, starting around this time.  I would meet someone, fall for them, and they became my self-esteem.  My first love I met around the age of 14 or 15.  She and I were far apart physically, but were very close emotionally.  It took a long time before we met in person, and it fell apart eventually.  Her rejection lead directly to my attempts at suicide.

I tried a handful of times to kill myself.  Luckily I never succeeded.  Years passed and I fell pretty back into focusing on not thinking much about myself.  I used to think I was finding a place I would be happy alone.  I don’t know if that is right, but it was what I told myself.  The next several years followed the same pattern.  I meet someone, come to rely on them for my self esteem and identity, become co-dependant, and repeat the cycle.  I never tried to kill myself again, but I became a very bad cutter.

Around the age of 19 I met the first person rumored to have a sex change.  I never asked them about it, and while I’d seen it used as a joke on tv a few times, but I didn’t really understand it was something that could actually be done.  It would be a very long time before I woud learn words like transexual and transgender.  But I developed a bit of a crush on that person, and I wanted to know more.  So I turned like so many before to porn.

I never felt particularly ashamed for being attracted to the trans women in porn, or at least any extra shame.  I’d been made to feel ashamed of looking at porn by my upbringing, but nothing extra.  Through a few active communities I learned about what are called “traps” or passable young trans women usually who enjoy posting themselves on image board sites.  Through places like this a young star was born, known as LineTrap.  She would go on to become Bailey Jay, a very famous porn actress now.  But as she gained visibility and fame, she used it to help spread understanding, at least she did to me.

These “traps” rekindled my desire to be a beautiful woman.  At first I thought I just wanted to be a cross dresser.  My then girlfriend was very supportive.  So with her help I started to explore what I wanted from myself.  I knew I wanted to appear female, and the thought of going into public and having the world not know I was “really a boy” became a very strong one for me.  And I started to hear stories about other trans women.  So many feelings I had pushed down, struggled to hide from myself, told myself weren’t real were brought back.  I would listen to their stories, to what they had always felt, to how they knew.  It mirrored so many things I’ve felt my whole life.  They were telling my story, but how could they know what I felt?  That’s how I knew finally who I was.  But I didn’t know what I should do about it.  I liked the idea of transition, but I was dealing with some serious depression, I was losing my sense of self in a strained relationship and I was unable to really even take care of myself.

Surprisingly it was her dumping me that helped me begin my transition in earnest.  I could not rely on her for my purpose, my worth, and I’d already learned who I was.  Knowing that is what allowed me to step forward and make my first real progess.  This is how I got here, and why I cannot turn back now.  I wouldn’t want to even if I could.

I died at the age of 33.  I was born at the age of 33.  Hello world, This is me.