I've hesitated posting here, but only because I didn't know how to explain it.
I grew up a normal kid. I had no concept of gender at all. I grew up my young life in the deep country of Kentucky so I spent my time with the two other kids in a 14 mile radius of me and with dogs and horses. My life was animals and my family. When I was 9 I moved to San Pedro California due to my father going back into the military. Until that time I had only socialized with country boys. I met my best friend there, a woman I will call S.
My home life wasn't great. If there are two people who should have never met its my parents. I'm glad I'm here, but really, my folks had no reason to ever meet. I started my period when I was 9 or 10, it's hazy now. I went to S's dad because he was the only adult I trusted. He explained what was happening and that it was normal. I didn't understand but I knew it was... Weird. Not the same as my friend, since I doubt periods ever make sense to any child.
I wore suits in high school and my dad just thought I loved people like Pat Benetar. When left home (for non-trans reasons but more for abuse reasons) I struggled with myself for years. I was 16 when I left and 19 when I heard FTM. I read everything I could. I remember even telling S and her dad who I grew to think of as my Papa. They accepted and told me that was just who I was. My husband was supportive when I started exploring packing and binding. I still didn't get it, but I had people, the most important people in my life, who accepted me.
My father said one stupid comment and I ran so fast back into the closet I don't even think the door was open.
When I was 23, I was struggling, drinking and crying myself to sleep. I had to be this person I was and I didn't know why but I did. On October 28th, after a Halloween party at my Uni my husband and I had a fight. He told me "I know this isn't you. Don't you remember a few years ago? You were so happy. You were you and I could see completely for the first time. That was the person I love. Not what you pretend to be. You need to fix this. Even if its not for us, for you. I can't watch you hurt anymore. And if you don't, I have to leave. I can't see who I love melt anyway into nothing."
The next day was silence in my house and the day after I had that scary thought. I'd rather be dead than see that face again in the mirror. I loved my life and my family and my friends. I remembered telling S's dad, Papa, I said, "this is wrong" and he told me all those years ago "no matter what, you're still you." I'm still me. I never felt more powerful and confident and happy than I did in that moment. Words from a decade previous and my whole life made sense.
Three years later I'm still with my husband, and we are happier than I thought was possible. S is my sister and best friend, and Papa is the best father I ever had.
Does my bio family accept me? No, not most of them. But the ones that matter? Yes, they do. I'm happy now. That's how I know that I am what I am. A few kind words from a man who probably didn't know what I was saying, a woman who loves me like a sibling and my husband who always saw me.
It isn't a clear story, and I guess that's my point. It's muddled and confusing and it turns out, that's just life. It's one weird symphony of absolute chaos. If you listen there is meaning, but you need to be ready to hear it.
Edited for spelling errors.