Hello everyone.
My name is Raven. It's been a while since I've joined an online community. I just felt the need to talk and meet new people.
I'm a trans girl living in Ontario. I'll be twenty-one years old as of the twenty-fifth of this month. I'm quite open about myself, so
here's my story for those of you who would like to know me better.
I was originally born in Edmonton, Alberta. I believe I moved from Alberta to Ontario when I was thirteen and half years old. From what I was told
by my mother, I was a very social and happy kid. I would walk up to anyone just to say, "Hi!" and make them smile. Apparently my dad wasn't too
fond of me walking up to strangers to chat everywhere I went though ha ha. From the few things I can remember I knew that I was female despite my body.
It never really occurred to me that something was off back then though. I was more interested in having fun. When I was eight years old, my father was killed in a motorcycle accident. I don't remember a whole lot about it. I can recall a few things like answering the door late into the night to talk with a police officer. I remember my Uncle being there at our house the next day to tell us my father had died. My reaction to that was to essentially just shut down. I would hardly speak to people. I wouldn't smile. I stopped taking care of myself almost entirely. I was just transferring to a new school at this point. I guess being a really quiet, unkempt kid in a new school wasn't the best combination for me. I was bullied a lot. Constantly. I tried to tell my mother that I was being bullied but she just thought I was exaggerating. I would literally cry and beg her every morning to not make me go to school. This went on for a long time. Up until my mother had decided it best for us (my brother and I) to move to Ontario where most of her family was. She felt it important to help us get to know the rest of our family just in case anything ever happened to her.
I had actually had some pretty high hopes for this change of location. I was thinking it would be a great chance to start over; possibly even make some friends at the new school I was going to. Unfortunately, I had not exactly developed social skills at my last school. I wasn't bullied as much, but I definitely wasn't making any friends. I was severely depressed at this point. Starting to go through puberty and silently struggling with my hidden transgender issues. With loneliness and bullying. As I continued to struggle through high school other things began to crop up. Not long after moving to Ontario my mother was diagnosed with a particularly aggressive form of breast cancer. She was bedridden and sick most of the time. It didn't make things much easier for me. Sometimes when I talked to her she had tried to encourage me to talk to a therapist. My depression had gotten a lot worse. My moods were extremely sporadic. I had even begun to hear voices and hurt myself. I didn't really want to talk to anyone for a long time. I felt like no one would really understand how I was feeling. I had eventually gone and spoke with a social worker. Though after only a few meetings, she had broken the confidentiality agreement by calling my mother at home and telling her about what I had spoken to her about. Things were getting worse for me, and I started to develop some trust issues. I had went to see my family doctor a while later and he had referred me to a psychologist. This so-called "psychologist" wasn't very good at his job. He sat with me for a total of twenty minutes. He had started laughing at me during the meet because of something I said. After that, I had left the room. He told my mother that I was extremely depressed and "very psychotic". Gave her a prescription for me for a bunch of medication and never bothered to see me again. I had had it with psychologists and therapists at this point.
My mom had survived the breast cancer (or at least had completed her treatment). Things seemed be getting back to normal for the most part. I had dropped out of high school by this point and was planning to kill myself. Before I had though I decided to try coming out to my mother about being transgender. A sort of last attempt at getting the help I needed. I didn't think there was anything that could be done either way though. Once I had come out to her, she was very supportive. She told me that there was things that I could do that would help me. I didn't know that I could seek medical help until then. I sort of felt relieved. Finally, something was going to go right for me. My mother had helped me shop for new clothes and taught me the basics of applying make up. She even helped me find out where to go to get the help I needed.
So I had did a bit of research and asked my family doctor for advice. He told me about a place in Toronto called CAMH. I found out that the Ontario Health Insurance Plan would cover costs for my surgery should I go through CAMH and have them recommend me for surgery. My family doctor sent in a referral for me, and after some agonizing months of waiting I finally got my appointment. The first appointment seemed decent enough. I met with Dr. Zucker and some others and talked to them. Basic things. Why I was there, where I came from, what I wanted out of all this. They told me about a few things I was going to need to do. Explaining I would come in for a psychological evaluation for my next appointment. They also told me I should try and get a name change, get my high school.. just generally prove that I could still function in day to day life as the person I am supposed to be. To "prove" to them that I was serious about this. I did this and waiting for my appointment. It took a lot longer than they told me it would, but I eventually got in. I had gone to see an endocrinologist soon afterwards, and he talked to me, asking me similar questions to what CAMH had when I first got there. I was supposed to have my next appointment with CAMH a month later. I never got a call telling me when it was. I called constantly nearly everyday for eight months with no response at all. I had to have my family doctor start calling for me in order for them to actually give me some sort of response. Dr. Zucker had contacted my mother after my family doctor contacted him. He told her when my next appointment was. He wouldn't even bother to tell me himself.
Once I arrived, I of course questioned why my calls weren't answered. Why it took so long. Dr. Zucker wouldn't give me a straight answer. Preferring to dodge the questions entirely at first, and then just flat out dismiss them after I continued questioning. The appointment didn't last long. I was told that he was going to send in my referral to the adult clinic at CAMH to continue along with my transition. Nine months later, along with a few unanswered phone calls from me, I found out he hadn't bothered to do anything. I jump through all their stupid hoops, and they can't even take it seriously. I had gone back and got my high school diploma living as my true gender, I had got myself a job, I had grown confident going out by myself, I had applied to college and got accepted and everything. I did everything they told me I had to do and more. And Zucker can't take two minutes to send in my referral like he was supposed to. My family doctor had to get a referral for me. Since the referral isn't coming from Zucker himself, the shortened waiting period I was promised for going through Zucker in the first place doesn't matter anymore. I'm essentially being started over completely because of his negligence.
I was so hopeful when I found out that there was "help" I could find out there. Only to find that the people who are supposedly supposed to help and care for me do not care about me at all. The months of waiting for absolutely nothing under the impression that someone was doing their job. The years of suffering going through all this mostly alone. I just couldn't care anymore. During all of this, my uncle was diagnosed with cancer and died not long later from it. I couldn't care less. Hardly a year ago my grand mother also got cancer and died. I couldn't care less. I feel numb most of the time. My mother had told me she wanted me to go with her to her mothers funeral service with her. I had asked her why I should, and she said it was because I don't have any feelings. She saw that as me being a voice of reason during her emotional time since the situation had no effect on me. My mood has been less random lately. I usually feel burning hatred for everyone and everything around me or I feel hopeless and depressed. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about killing myself. That I don't wonder if this life is even worth living. I won't kill myself though. Not after coming this far. I still keep going. I'm still in college. I'm taking web design and development and getting excellent grades. Sometimes I go out and try to feel happy, beautiful, normal. I take pride in the pain I've endured and know it shows just how strong I am. How strong I can be.
Sorry for the novel. I just wanted to share. I've never really shared my 'story' before.
If you did read all of it, I thank you for taking the time to do so.
Raven
