I guess I'll begin by telling a little bit about myself:
I'm transgendered, but I guess that's to be expected. I've always known I should have been a girl. From the time I was in the old country at the age of six to now, I've known something was wrong. I have just been to afraid to say anything, but also because I didn't know what was going on. Being raised Catholic in isolated place was not the best thing to help a little kid make sense of things, so I was left to figure out what it was that I felt. Those were confusing times. To be honest, I don't remember much of them. All I know is that I knew something was wrong, and that I really wished I could be a girl. I didn't know why, nor did I think it was possible any other way other than magic. So I would pray. Pray that I could be the girl I wanted to be, just like my cousins. But that never happened. Eventually, I guess I kinda lost faith that it would, so I erased the feelings from my mind completely.
But they never left. Once situated in the US, I had time to think. Among the many things I had to face, new culture, language, guardians, the issue of my identity came up once again. But I kept it down. I didn't want to disappoint my mother, whom I just met. So I kept pushing through school, trying to do my best. Almost subconsciously, I began to think about suicide. I still did not about practical approaches, so I knew my feelings still seemed impossible. So when I unknowingly told a teacher about my will to die, this prompted treatment. My mother was not happy. At the time, she blamed me for forcing her to drive twenty minutes to see someone whom she did not agree with. Seeing her reaction to this simple thing reinforced the notion that I needed to keep my feelings secret. So the visits to the therapist revealed nothing and, just after three visits, stopped altogether. Needless to say, the years that followed were miserable. But it was around those times that I finally found out that there were others like me. That a thing such as sexual reassignment surgery actually existed. Granted I was young back then, so I didn't know about the specifics, but that gave me some hope for the future.
A few years later, however, my mother caught a bundle of female clothing that I had acquired. I knew then that I had disappointed her once more. At first, she just laughed it off. She would make fun of me, taunt me, and later insult me with it. That was the way that she coped with it, to make it seem my fault, so she would not bear any of the responsibility. But that did not last overly long. By the following year, it was almost as if she had forgotten about it. But I had not. And once she forgot, I began to have some hope once more. The internet and the things that people did amazed me. I knew I had to be more careful, however. Thus, I did not try to dress again. And so the years went on. I would appear normal on the outside, and the internet gave me some solace, but that would not prove to be enough. I began to slip into depression once more. To make matters worse, I find out just how impossible it was for me to attend college, even less afford other things, with what we made. Moreover, I couldn't simply work since no one would hire me. Alone, I faced all of these issues. No parents, friends, or others to talk to. There really did seem to be no hope. I had but one last chance to try to make something of myself. If that didn't work, I knew it would only be a matter of time before I quit.
Something that I had completely written off as impossible turned out to happen. Against all odds, I was accepted to college with a full-cost scholarship. For a little while, I was ecstatic. I really believed that perhaps this was my chance. But soon enough, I knew that while this was important, it did not compare to my real life goals. So, after months of deliberation, I gathered enough courage to come out to my parents. To my surprise, they had completely forgotten about the previous incident. Regardless, they would tolerate me enough to continue living in the house, but there was no way I would put this into action. It seemed like a pity win, but I knew I at least had something. But depression is a hard thing to get rid of, and I could not get out of the hopelessness I felt, despite the fact that I had a much brighter future. Suddenly, four months became an eternity. Luckily, we finally saw a professional. This not only helped my mother know what being transgendered means, she began to fully support me. Once again, this did not seem very convincing due to my step-father's continued refusal for me to act any other way than I previously had. But time showed him otherwise, at least for one day. And for that one day, I was allowed to be myself, to be who I truly am at my senior prom. Without a doubt, that was, and to this day, is the happiest day of my life.
That's my story.
TL: DR
So here I am, more than a month later, ready to head off to college. I can't say I've had it easy, but I know it can only get better. I still have not started transitioning, in terms of hormones, mostly due to financial reasons. However, I plan to do so as soon as possible. But this is why I'm here. I still don't know what to expect, much less what to do. I do know that I am excited about joining this community. Never before have I had interactions like this, so this is a new experience of actual sharing, rather than me just observing. All in all, I hope to make the best out of my time here.
By the way, if you actually read all of that, I'm sorry. I love writing, and I guess I can get carried away at times.
