I always felt different. Since age eight I disliked my mom’s pseudo-Jewish religion, being homeschooled, wearing hand-me-down clothes, not having normal parents, our family, consisting of my mom, myself, and 20-odd cats, living in a mobile home which often needed repairs and living off the charity of our friends and church.
It was a tough life. There were good things about it. I learned to like school. I learned to work hard and be responsible and not complain. I learned to accept challenges.
But I also felt like a freak of nature. From age 8 onward, I would look at other families with kids, families of different races from mine, families with more than one child, and I would wonder what it would be like to be one of them. And then I would wonder what made me. Why was I born a girl and in my particular family? And then I would wish I were a boy and that I had a different family.
At age 10, I learned to clean the house, and wash the dishes, and take care of things. My mom started having mini-heart attacks on a regular basis. She doesn’t like hospitals or doctors, so she never went to one. I had to take care of her. And I became very afraid she would die.
Around age 12 was when things began to change a great deal. Because of a big mess with the septic system at our house, my mom and I began staying at my dad’s house. They fought all the time, and I really hated it. I started thinking about things which I had seen about my mom’s personality, about how she spanked me a lot, about how she threatened me, sometimes. About how I hated the work I had to do to take care of our house. I wanted to live with my dad. I wanted to go to public school. I wanted to be able to do the things I liked to do, like read and write and draw and eat all the sweets I wanted, and to watch TV. I didn’t want to be a part of my mom’s religion, anymore. I said that I wanted my mom to die because I became afraid of her.
So I lived with my dad for two months. My mom and dad divorced. I realized how much I missed my mom and how insecure I was.
I went to public school and loved the classes and teachers, but hated the kids. I kept to myself and enjoyed my books and studies. I hated the group projects. I loved PE because then I could be competitive. I hated being pitted against the guys in girl-versus-boy competitions. I always played with the boys on the playground.
But then my mom got custody rights, so I lived back with her. I told her I was wrong about everything I’d said about her and I stopped going to public school. I pretended to be all my characters. I stopped trying to figure myself out. I started being very girly and religious and trying to do all the “right” things. I really had no clue who I was or what I wanted to be. I had always said I wanted to grow up and have my own place and be a rock star and go to college and be a scientist. I didn’t have the internet or know how to use a computer so I couldn’t learn about who I was or wanted to be.
At age fourteen I went to a summer camp in Missouri, where I met my best friend. She was a writer, a science nerd, loved to watch sci-fi and all the cool shows and movies, and was very progressive and liberal minded. I found her and her ideas awesome and I wanted to be just like her. My mom thought she looked like a boy and that she must have terrible parents because of her strange ideas.
The fall after that summer camp I started learning how to use the computers at the library, and I took up fencing after having seen my new best friend’s skill at the sport.
It was awesome. Fencing was something I really enjoyed and was able to get pretty good at. Computers became my obsession, and a few months after first learning how they work and how to type, I secretly set up my first email address and facebook account. I used fake names and ages for both and started talking to my cool best friend. I never let my mom know what I was doing. I felt like the ultimate super spy. It was great.
I learned of my love for music at age 12, after my dad gave me a pocket radio. I learned how much I loved hip-hop, pop, and rock. At age 15, I became obsessed with music. My dad had given me a video camera for my 14th birthday. The camera he gave me for my 12th birthday, which I loved and learned to take great pictures on, had been stolen at the park when I was 13, so my dad thought I needed a new one. I used my new video recorder to record the music I loved through my dad’s car speakers so I could listen to it later. Then I found out I could, using headphones with the volume turned loud, record music off of youtube online. So I started making lists of the songs I liked by their lyrics, then finding them online and recording them.
About age 15, I started three things. I started becoming depressed and generally unhappy with my mom’s treatment of me, I started using all that music I had recorded on my video camera to dance to in stores when I went there to shop for my mom (I am quite good at dancing and I felt so free while doing it, so I thought I could achieve fame by dancing in public), and I started writing to my cool best friend about how helpless and futureless I felt.
I loved doing the dancing. I had so many people cheer me on and record me. I was even kicked out of Walmart a few times for doing it. But it was fulfilling. I only did it for a year, before I realized the possible negative consequences of my public displays.
The depression only got worse as time went on. I felt I had lost my identity. I thought it was because my whole personality was based on my characters imaginary ones and what my mom wanted me to be.
I talked to my best friend about my feelings. She sent me books and other things so I could begin learning all the science, technology, and culture things which I had missed out on, living with my mom. This really helped.
At age 16, I ran away from home and went to live with my dad. I got a computer and the internet, and an mp3 player to put all my music one. I started making dance videos and put them on youtube. They received no views, so I took them down. After two months of living with my dad, where we fought constantly, I went to live with my best friend’s family in St Louis.
I had a lot of fun, took several trips, flew for the first time, first discovered the word “transgender”, and discovered a lot of things about myself while living with my best friend’s family. I also went to a private school for ninth grade and learned a lot of things about dealing with other people.
However, I was still depressed and began to miss home, so in August 2015, I came back home to Texas.
I got a doctor and dentist, took antidepressants for a few months, and went to a counselor. I was then finally able to get back to feeling normal, being creative, and thinking about my future. I lived with my dad for a year.
I also started public high school in August 2015. I was able to complete three years of school in only one. I graduated with a 95.2 GPA. I made some friends, showed off my dance skills, and really enjoyed my classes, to the amazement of all my teachers.
And, in August 2015, I started conducting massive amounts of research into transgender lives and experiences, into the science behind trans people’s identities, and into how to transition into a female-to-male transguy. I started wearing more male-associated clothes, I kept my hair short, and I began expressing myself with much more confidence. I didn’t come out as trans to myself until January 2016. I came out to my dad and a few of my friends in March 2016. I came out on Facebook, in August 2016.
This is most of my story. More about this past year, my goals for 2017, and my personal hobbies and interests, next blog.
See you then.