There’ll come a time when you hear it and you’ll wonder “Where in the world have I been?”

Have you ever thought you knew something only to find out you had no idea what it was really like? I’ve had so many of those in this last year.

Just over a year ago I started my transition in proper. I claimed my name, I started seeing a counselor, and begun my road towards being myself. Each day I’ve been more and more sure of how right my decision has been. If it even was one really.

Coming out as poly has been a similar experience, and my two wonderful, loving partners are the best things to happen in my life.

I’ve been exploring my return to spirituality, letting go of the anger and ignorance of my atheist days much like i let go of the hurt and ignorance of my Christian days. I believe in magic. Not just the great game my girlfriend and I bonded over, but in something greater than just us. I don’t know that I believe it’s beyond human. In fact I believe it comes from inside us, in the words, the music, the art, the science we create. This is my magic, my runes, my spells. And I’ve adopted the title of witch because of the historical context relating to trans womanhood. I’m young in this but eager to learn more.

But the point of this post is to talk to something else. All my life I thought I knew what a home was. My life with family, with partners, with friends. It turns out I had no idea. Much like being a woman trying to be a man, I thought I was home when I was really a stranger.

I spent the last 9 days in Las Vegas with my star, my princess, my love. I called her Peace at the post about 2015 in review. It has been a truly amazing experience. In those 9 days I experienced great joys and love. In those 9 days I never once questioned my womanhood. I never deadnamed myself. I had no doubts about who I am and how I feel. I was with people who love me and I love. I found my home.

Months ago I mailed a symbol of my love, of my heart to my love Peace. I have a personal story of how I heal my heart from being broken, wearing it on a chain. I sent my chain to Peace, knowing full well I already had given her my heart. These past 9 days I was united with my love, and reunited with my heart. And in that time, my heart had come to know where I belong. I felt only right in Las Vegas in a way I’ve never truly felt in Kansas.

The coming months will be hard. I’m attempting to return for more trips, with plans to move and be together with both my loves. I cannot wait for that day.

I fought back tears in the airport, just minutes after watching my love drive away. On the flight (where I’m writing this) I finally broke down and cried, climbing higher and higher as I watched my home shrink into the distance. Once again I’m a displaced soul, who’s heart resides miles and miles away, going to a place of some loving friends and family, but mostly a false family who don’t support or recognize their love is not unconditional. I will miss people I love when I leave, but I will not miss a home, for I have never had one. “Home is where the heart is.” My heart, my home, is with Peace, in Las Vegas.


Walk away me boys, walk away me boys and by morning we’ll be free. Wipe that golden tear from your mother dear, and raise what’s left of the flag for me.

Two Thousand and fifteen. 2015.  I’ve had major years in my life before, but I don’t think anything can ever come close to just how big my life has changed in 2015.  Strap in, because this could take a bit.

I started 2015 in so many closets and I think I’ve come out of each one in some way this year.  I didn’t just come out of the closet, I burnt most of them to the ground.  May the light of those fires guide my way.

At the start of the year I had a partner I did love, but there wasn’t a real chance for us I think.  She was wonderful and I’m still glad to call her a friend, but she doesn’t love women that way.  And I respect that fully.  I was working a job I didn’t hate, and I started going back to school.  Funnily enough, these things sound great but turned out to be very not.

After my partner ended things, I started to really consider what it would take to transition.  I needed to do it, as the thought of not was building to unsafe levels in my head (up to and including suicidal thoughts.)  I began looking into local counselors who have experience and discovered a place called The Transgender Institute.  Turned out the price ranges were so high I literally cried.  But one of the counselors was willing to work with me on a sliding scale, and to do more condensed sessions to help ease costs.  This was incredibly helpful, and I believe she,  more than the TI’s founder, is interested in removing the gatekeeping for trans people to get the medical care they deserve.  If anyone is in the Kansas City area and would like to know more, I’m happy to suggest seeing her.

She was able to give me a letter to see a local doctor with a long history of working with trans patients to get HRT (hormone replacement therapy) and after a few months of waiting due to her highly in demand help, I was able to get my first dose of hormones and start HRT on May 4th, Star Wars day (yes, I am that big of a nerd.)

During my early days this year I started seeking out other trans women for companionship, and I did so via an online dating site.  I was seeking friendship, and maybe more, so I thought it was a good idea.  I met one person who was very nice, but cut contact suddenly, and I never spoke to her again.  Then I met a wonderful woman who I went out with a few times, but she became very busy (she’s probably one of the busiest people I’ve ever met) and we grew apart. I still call her a friend, but we’re not particularly close.  The third person I met made some pretty big changes in my life.  She is still a friend, and we even spent xmas together with other friends too.  She introduced me to my local support group.

While all this was going on, I was starting this blog.  I used to be much more active, posting almost daily.  I really like using this as a way to work out when I’m dealing with big ideas, but it takes a lot of spoons (mental energy) so I now only do it when I’m really needing it.  But I don’t intend to give this up.  At the same time I started this, I joined an online transgender message board.  I made a few very good friends there, and even when I stopped going, I was able to keep being close to these friends.  One of these friends became my closest friend for a time, but we had a falling out, and she doesn’t speak to me anymore.  I also started getting close to a very wonderful woman who I care for very deeply.  I’ve loved watching her grow as she’s come into her own this year.  She will always have a special place in my heart.  Thank you for everything E.

When finally started HRT, I made a plan to come out.  I gave myself a month to come out to my close friends, 3 months to come out to family, 6 months to come out at work, and a year to socially transition.  I thought it a decent pace.  I just didn’t anticipate how quickly it would change.  I was out to friends in a month, but by 2 1/2 I was living part time out, and it was too hard to keep going.  So as I prepared to go on a trip to an anime convention, I knew I was going as myself fully, and there was no way I was going back in the closet.  So I came out to my family the only way I felt safe to do so, via letter.  People have told me I did it wrong, but there is no wrong.  There is only what I did for my own safety, mental and physical.   At 2 1/2 months of HRT, I walked out the door as myself and didn’t look back (mostly.)

My extended family has been really good.  They don’t seek out to spend time with me, but they’ve been open with inviting me to things, and they try to use the right name (all of my xmas gifts had the right name.)  My brother is still one of my closest friends.  But my parents have been mixed.  My dad has been less active in talking to me, but will look at me, and doesn’t call me by any names.  My mom refuses to look at/directly interact with me, only speaks to me via text messages, uses the wrong pronouns, and dead names me.  My sister refuses to even be in the same building while I’m there.  I didn’t know who I would lose in my family, but I had a feeling I would lose some.

I’ve also become extremely more aware on social issues.  I now understand so much better things I was kinda a piece of shit about before.  I know that antagonistic atheism is not much better than the things it’s fighting against.  I now see how ingrained racism is in the system, and in turn people.  I see just how shit good people are when it comes to trans issues, issues they don’t learn about because they don’t care.  It doesn’t make them bad people, but it does just further the system of oppression, and makes them complicit in it.  I’ve learned how to spot shitty allies, and how to be a real one.  I’m not perfect, I screw up.  But I’m learning, and I’m trying.

Coming out as trans has just been part of my coming out.  I also have accepted my mental illnesses, and am actively considering using disabled as a label, as mine do inhibit my ability to care for myself.  I need to seek disability, because I need help, and I cannot do it on my own.

I used to identify as pansexual, that I had no physical preferences of any kind for people I’m interested in.  I’ve since started to identify as demisexual, because the thing that matters to me in attraction is an emotional connection with someone.  When I don’t have that, I’m pretty much asexual now.  But when I care about someone, when someone touches my heart in that way, that completely changes.  I use the label queer, as I’ve tried to make it clear I’m very not straight.  I have recently started to use gay a lot more as well.  I definitely find I have a preference for other trans women, followed by non-binary people.  This isn’t a physical preference though, but has everything to do with being able to relate to them.  I would go out with a cis person, even a cis guy, but it’s going to have to be someone extremely special for me to relate to them and find them attractive anymore.

I also came out as polyamorous this year.  I have a pretty detailed post about this, and you’re welcome to go back and read it.  The truth is a lot of the jealousy I’ve had in my life with former partners stemmed from an unhealthy requirement of them fulfilling all my needs exclusively, and me to fill theirs.  I’m not cut out to do this, and honestly no one is, but for me the love, the emotional connection for romance and more doesn’t work when forced onto a single person.

It’s been an interesting year on that front.  A few people have touched my heart in a few ways.  There’s this foxy girl who’s beautiful, playful and fun.  If she’s ever in a place she feels comfortable and able to, I think we could be good together.  There’s a mermaid who’s become a big part of my stability and I want to see her stand tall, by her side.  There’s the mysterious alien lover who captivates my attention and speaks with an authority on issues I find amazing.  There’s my dear friend from so close yet so far, who needs to escape her hateful wife.  There’s my British rocker girl, who’s so full of life and fun, makes me feel young at heart, even if I can’t give her what she wants all the time.  And then there’s Peace.

Peace is a special one for me.  Peace changed my life in a way no one would have seen coming.  We met through twitter, when a blogger I follow retweeted her.  I saw a young, trans woman who was smart and outspoken on issues I cared a lot about.  So I clicked on her profile to see a little about her.  The first thing I noticed was a banner for lesser known game that was part of a series I loved.  I knew then and there I needed to follow this girl.  So I did, and we messaged a little, and she even offered to let me follow her locked account.  Through her friendship, I’ve met directly or indirectly most of my new friends, my online support network, and 3 of the others listed above.  Peace expanded my world and I am forever grateful to her for it.

Peace and I have gotten closer as time as gone on.  There have been some rocky points, as things have not always been easy for either of us personally.  We both have known hurt, we both have our problems.  But she’s got a way of looking at the world that I relate to on a core, fundamental level.  I connect with her in a way I have with very few people before in my life.  I think things are progressing in a way I would like with Peace.  She has something small, but very special from me headed her way in the mail right now even.  I’m hoping she will get it before 2015 is over, because I want next you to start with her having a real idea of just how I feel.

Life has had its ups and downs this year.  I’ve lost loved ones, two best friends, and faced open discrimination.  But the truth is, I wouldn’t change any of this, because I am finally learning to love myself, to like myself, and I’ve met people I wouldn’t trade for anything.  I will gladly remember my hardships faced, because they all brought me to where I am today.  Life isn’t perfect, the world is a mess, but there is goodness still.

If you read this monstrosity of a post, please know that I love you all.

07 15

Love is a sword, wielded by men. It’s an extension of one’s heart and of one’s cries. The Bed is a battlefield, home to the dead, and the weary don’t make it out alive.

Strangely calm.  That’s how I feel at the moment.  There are a large number of things that are so far beyond my control at the moment, normal life has become strange.  Everyday things have become like the movement of objects in space.  So far beyond my grasp, so far beyond my control, they’re not even considerations in my mind.  My life is in a very strange place.

I had a burger for the first time in… months? I haven’t eaten more than about 800 calories is a day in over a month I know.  Things have been that tight money wise.  I eat high protein, high carb and good foods at least, and I’ve lost over 10 lbs even! I just wish it wasn’t at such a cost.  I broke down and when I got a little money used it to eat something beyond my normal meager levels.  I knew I needed to, as my brain has been getting extremely… hazy lately.  The world goes gray, things wash out.  I haven’t been getting enough something, and I am hoping food will be a help.  A couple days ago I cried over the idea of a full meal.  Like literally broke down sobbing so hard other people heard me.  That’s how little I’ve had to eat.

The big thing that’s been going on with me has been my love life.  I somewhat recently came out as poly.  I actually came out months ago, but tried to only find a couple to join as a triad, because I’d always had issues with jealousy.  But like all things I don’t tend to just let thoughts lie anymore.  I started to break down my life to this point, and the honest truth is, I think like being transgender, I’ve always been polyamorous.  I’ve had more serious relationships than most trans people I’ve known.  I’ve talked about those a bit in the past, and while unhealthy, there was love in all of them.  But there’s more to each of those that I don’t usually talk about.

My first love I met as a teen, and we were long friends before anything came of it.   I loved her for a while, but never worked up the nerve to tell her, so I figured nothing would come of it, and when I met this other awesome girl, I started dating her.  Now I don’t know if I was in love love with this second girl, but the first told me she had been afraid to tell me she had feelings for me, and by that point I was pretty into the second girl, and she with me (as is clear by how things went after.)  Now at this point no one had ever told young me about the idea of things like being poly.  Hell, I didn’t know much of anything.  So of course I only had a cis/het normative view of the world, of life, of love.  So being in love with two people was clearly “Wrong!” And I ended up making one of them (the one who wasn’t my first love) break up with me, because I couldn’t do it myself.  It was a super shitty thing to do, but it was also because I couldn’t reconcile in my head why I had to choose between being in love with both of these women.  But I had been told it was the only way.  So I forced myself into the mold that had been forced upon me again.  This would not be the last time this would happen.

The next woman I loved wasn’t quite so messy on the falling in love aspect.  There was another person I had strong feelings for, but she had none for me.  So when I started to see the second love of my life, there was no complications on that end.  But at the outset there was a level at which I was having feelings for multiple people

If the first one was big, the third one should have been the eye opener.  My third love started about as messy as you can.  Before we even got together, when we were first getting to know each other, I was in love with one girl (who was having a good time but not interested in more), had feelings for another (who was dealing with a bad break up), as well as a third person (though I wasn’t sure what I wanted with them, I did like them a lot), and another girl who showed interest in me (and had I been less trying to be a “cis/het normal dude” at the time I probably could have had something with.)  All of those are in addition to this woman I was having a sexual and intellectual relationship with, that would turn into a full blown romantic and loving relationship (with a lot of problems.)

So now that I’ve finally been really unpacking my gender, most of my sexuality, my mind, on so many things, something happened.  When I started to fall for a woman a couple months ago, I was okay.  But then I started to have feelings for another woman, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do.  I also had a moment where I got really jealous about something that happened.  That gets to the second part of this massively long post.

Jealousy has always been a serious problem I’ve had when I’ve been in love with someone.  I’ve done some serious unpacking of that baggage in the last couple months.  If I was only supposed to be with one person, wasn’t I supposed to be enough for that one person?  Shouldn’t I be the only one they need in their life for serious support? (Now this isn’t unique to poly people, just even more more conflated in me since I was suppressing a lot of stuff.)  And after a lot of thinking on it, a lot of emotional and mental energy spent on this, I think I’ve figured out what I really want and need.

I will not being going into details on any of the following relationships, just the base level of where I stand on each of them, with one exception.  I am currently in love with a woman, I have strong feelings that are developing for another, I have interests with a guy who’s not uninterested, and I’ve got something starting with a enby.  In addition I’ve been talking with a couple who may be interested in either one or both going out some time.  And for me, this actually feels wonderfully natural.  This feels like a lot more what I should be trying to have with people.

The exception I mentioned was to addres the concept of jealousy.  Now of these all but one are openly poly (and the one who isn’t isn’t sure yet.)  The second person I mentioned in the last bit, the woman I have feelings developing for, she is in a very early place in whatever is happening between us, and she’s also has a couple of partners.  The me who was trying to make her be the only thing I cared about, would have lost my shit about this.  But as I am now, I’m super happy that there are other people who make her happy.  I just want to also be someone who makes her happy.  That’s what I’m looking for with her.  To be happy, and to make her happy if/when we do things.  For me this is a new place, and it’s… calm, peaceful in my mind.  There is turbulence over things like uncertainty of where we are with each other, but not over if she cares because she has other partners.

So many hurt feelings, so much jealousy, so much anger, so much self hate, and it all breaks down to once again trying to fit a mold that wasn’t me, because the world told me that was the only way to be.  Well fuck you world, I’m out, I’m a queer, poly, trans woman, and I’m starting to actually like myself! Who you tried your best to kill me, it didn’t work.  Life, love are finally things I can understand, and I will go forward, head held high, and ready to face this as best I can.

Why can’t I just listen? I create my prison, I’m chained by my own heart and mind

[CW: Abuse]

Today it is time to talk about something I’ve mentioned a bit before, but haven’t really gone into in detail.  That thing is a big part of my own identity and the way I used that to abuse people.  It’s something I can never take back, but now that I’m aware of it, I owe it to myself, and to all those I’ve hurt to address it fully and move forward.  I can never unhurt those I did hurt, but I will go on being awake and ensuring I don’t do this ever again.  This is just a part of the ways I was unhealthy with the people I cared deeply for.  And I’m still in the process of unpacking all this, but I feel it’s a good thing to finally talk about in detail here.  I will be discussing mostly details my longest relationship, and that partner, as she received the majority of these, though it’s not been limited to only her.  I just have the most clear and easy to show examples with her.

I used to seriously attempt to colonize the body of my former partners.  I had such a major disconnect from my own body, I couldn’t process my own identity in my body, and I’d no idea about transgender as an identity yet.  Even once I started to do so, I was already in the process of fucking over someone I cared deeply for.  I had a fucked up sense of ownership on her body, partially from the perceived man’s identity that encouraged ownership over women partners our society has toxically taught us, and partially from my own identity being tied up in her physical form.

One clear example of this was an attempt to police her time, when she was spending time with friends.  I would get frustrated, mad, even attack her about how she spent time with other people.  My jealousy was rampant.  I needed her to spend time with me to value myself.

Other examples include literally getting mad at her the first time she dyed her hair without telling me ahead of time.  How insane is that?  I wish I could say I cannot fathom how I would ever think that was a proper response, but the truth is, I know I was possessive of her body.  Similarly I attempted many times to persuade her to not get more tattoos because I did not want the tattoos she wanted.  These attempts to control her are literally insane!

A bit ago I shared an old poem, linked here:
At the time I wrote that, it was and wasn’t about this ex.  I was already starting to feel a serious connection with her, and starting to feel entwined with her.  But the language, the message, it shows just how much I was connecting myself to her.  It’s because for most of the time we were together, I wanted to be her.  I wanted to be with her as well, but if that had been the only thing, I never would have been as abusive in this way.  I may have in some of the others still, but I can’t deny this was one of the ways I was to her and others.

So that poem will always be tied to some not good behaviors of mine.  But I can also reclaim it, and show it as a way to see myself finally as me.  And doing so I’ll never forget it’s original intent, and I can use the reminder so I never forget what I’ve done to so many I have loved.  So I can hold myself accountable, and try to never fall back into such horrible, abusive habits.

I’m now glad each of the people I’ve hurt were able to break away from me.  I know they did so for their own safety.  I’m sad at what it has cost me, but knowing that they are safer away from me is a big deal.  I hope that each of them is healthy and happy with their lives.  I can never undo what I did to these people, but I owe it to them, and to myself, to go forward aware now, and to call out these kinds of abuses when I see them.

All because of you, I believe in angels. Not the kind with wings, No, not the kind with halos.

This is a post I have no idea how to write.  I’ve got this feeling, an idea, an emotion, something, and it’s inside me.  But I honestly have no clear idea how to express it.  My life has had major changes in the last 9 months.  I’ve fully accepted my gender, I’m working on my gender expression, I’m working on accepting my body more as it is for things beyond my ability to change.  I’m accepting my disability, my mental illness, my sexuality, just so many things about myself I was not ready to deal with before.  Now I have been making serious work on undoing the things I’ve done to myself all my life.  I’m not perfect, I still fuck up.  But I’m making progress.  Steps.

So what does that all mean in relation to this ball of… I-don’t-know I have growing inside me?  Well, it’s complicated, and it’s very related.  So here goes.

I like someone.  Now that’s not uncommon.  I like a lot of people.  I have many great and special friends who I wouldn’t be able to live without.  But the truth is this is different.  It’s more than high fives and hugs and hanging out.  There’s something deeper forming here, at least in me.

Now I’ve had serious and loving relationships before.  And they almost exclusively turned bad, and I always held at least part of the blame (if not most) for that.  Before I started to accept myself, I would only date women, and only women who had traits and features I wanted.  I lived the Cure song “Why Can’t I Be You?”  It’s funny, to say, but the truth is, it’s been incredibly unhealthy.  I was co-dependent and relied on those wonderful women to get any real sense of self worth and identity.  And I hurt those women.  Bad.  I can never take those things back.  I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for what I did.  I don’t think I deserve it.  But I will take that forward, and I am learning from it.

But this is different.  For the first time in my life, I’m moving forward as myself.  I have a real sense of my own identity.  I know who I am and who I want to be and what I want.  I’m a whole person finally, and while young and still learning, I go forward with the knowledge that I am someone with something to offer and with wants and needs that aren’t a sense of self.

I’ve been thinking about this person a lot lately.  It’s not uncommon for them to be on my mind regularly.  I find myself wondering how they’re feeling, what they’re doing and if they’re okay.  I want to know how it feels to hold them and be physically close to them.  And I know that I like them as more than a friend.  They’re extremely important to me.  Someday I hope I might be able to show them, and maybe, just maybe, something more can come of this.  I can think of no one I would rather let see the whole, true me.   I know that while I am definitely nervous, I’m not scared of how I feel.  That is a first for me.

To this person I just want to say I like you, and I can’t say more than that right now, it’s too soon to know anything else for sure, but I hope someday to be, and to maybe be in a place to act on this.


There is a yellow one, That won’t accept the black one, That won’t accept the red one, That won’t accept the white one. Different strokes, For different folks.

Racism is a concept I will never be able to fully understand.  Sure I can see the twisted logic that goes on inside someone’s head to justify that kind of belief, but I’m lucky in several aspects of my life that kept me from ever learning that way of thinking.  For example my parent’s never spoke about ethnicity, about people by their ethnicity.  My dad was military, and after that a blue collar worker, and mostly sees people by how they act, not skin color.  My mom is mostly reserved, though seemed rather surprised the first time I dated a non-white person.  She never said anything disparaging, I just think she never thought about it.

Looking back I had some pretty helpful experiences in my life to understand and even embrace diversity.  For starters the neighbor hood I grew up in was pretty mixed.  Lower middle class White and Black families were about equal, with several Latino families, as well as various mixed as well.  The kids all played together, and if anything has the power to destroy racism forever, I think it’s just letting all kids everywhere play together and learn just how much we’re all the same.  Even when my family moved to a little bit “nicer” neighborhood, it was still pretty mixed.  My parents always said it was about the quality of the schools, and it seems this wasn’t just a code they used, like I’ve heard others use those words that way.

The other experience that I feel is on the same level for me is High School.  I’ve clearly had the benefit of White privilege in my life.  Looking back it’s pretty clear.  I couldn’t really understand it as a child and a teenager, and honestly didn’t even know the concept existed until I was in my late 20s.  But the simple fact it, I have had advantages not earned because of my skin color.  But that hasn’t always been the case with me.  The first thing I was ever told by a high school principal was that I would be in the minority.  I didn’t understand at the time why this even mattered.  I still think it says much more about the man than anything else I could say about him, except maybe the fact he only was there on year, and got beat to hell by a pair of female students for some things that were never made fully open.

But he told me and my parents that the student body of the school was about 60% Black, 30% White, about 8% Latino, and the rest was everything else.  So in one of the most formative places and times of my life, I was a minority.  Looking back it seemed dumb to think of it that way, and I mostly didn’t, but now I’m actually very grateful.  I have an experience many white kids never will: I got to see what happens when I don’t have so much privilege.  In spite of having extremely messed up self identity, and possibly because of it, I also had a wonderful high school experience.

All of my friends tell me stories of how high school was like the movies.  The cliques, the bullying, all the stupid tropes of every terrible (and even the good) teen high school movies that are apparently alive and well.  I never understood those because I never experienced them.  There were cliques, sure, but they were different ones.  There were the free-stylers, the dancers, the skaters, even the nerds, but most people were more focused on what they enjoyed and even had plenty of overlap.

I was just enough of an outsider to never be drawn in completely to any one, and just enough of a chameleon to be able to move through most.  I have very little in rhyming skills, but I’ve always loved a good beat and could make some great ones for my free-styling friends.  There was no real goth clique, but there were enough to let me express myself a bit more.  I played video games, and even took up Magic: the Gathering in high school with the nerds, but I excelled at dominoes and spades.  There are few things more fun than slamming the last bone (domino) and taking $20 off your teacher.  To this day when I teach someone to play bones, they always set them to stand on their side, a rookie move, and I have to resist the urge to slam the table and peek at their hands.  Never once did I feel unwelcome, and the handful of times I felt someone judged me for being White were the outliers, the exception, and those that did were never people of import.

I had lots of friends in high school.  Several of the most popular kids were people I hung out with at lunch and enjoyed their company.  But being the outsider and as mixed up about self identity as I was, I didn’t connect most people very deeply.  I don’t have high school friends on my facebook.  There are only a handful I really remember very well.  There’s only one I’ve ever tried to look up later in life.  A couple others I’ve thought about doing so.

My experience are why I think I can never really understand racism.  I’ve spent too much time, especially of my formative years, being around people of all colors and many different backgrounds.  No amount of telling me someone is wrong for their skin color can overcome those experiences.  I was also lucky that I never heard that shit really either as a child.  That would come much later and from people I would know I didn’t want to associate with anyway.

In writing all this, I’m also wondering just how much being trans plays into it.  I was always trying to understand myself (even when I was actively repressing the biggest part of me) and that drove me to be more and more empathetic.  I’ve sought better self understanding by understanding others.  Maybe one influenced the other, or maybe it’s all connected, and flows back and forth, both influencing each other.  I’m not really sure.  I just know I’m grateful that there’s something I cannot ever really understand, because it’s something I never want to.

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.