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I made, to me anyway, profound changes from the start - mostly education sparking my introspection.
My first 'lessons' were high school psychology classes during 11th Grade (1972 - 1973, age 16). The teacher distributed his mimeographed hand-outs one day during Spring quarter. The discussion topic right there - 'sexual perversions' and 'deviants' - especially transvestites and transsexuals. I read that in his lesson plan. I began trembling with mixed emotions; I had to hold back tears to prevent me from crying aloud.
I am NOT a 'pervert' or a 'deviant'! I hold no impure thoughts toward others. I am me, a girl, a teen-aged young adult female. One of these days, I kept telling my self, I shall be a full adult female. That is neither 'perversion' nor 'deviant'.
I had to hold my tongue throughout these lessons - I knew they were all wrong but I kept it to myself because it was what we had to do during those dark, oppressive days only a few here at Susan's can remember first-hand.
After high school, I attended college and completed numerous courses in psychology and sociology as well as medical sciences.
Outside of class, I also read what little sociological and psychological books that I could find at my small-town Public Library. I read about gender and the rare find that maybe commented on gender identity and transsexual issues of the day - including the topic of feminine and masculine protesting.
Introspection continued into knowledge. You see, abusive parents raise children who themselves become abusive and then abusive parents - that vicious cycle. Meanwhile, I was improving my personal behaviour and attitude. My growing awareness helpt me deliberately decide that I must break that cycle - dangerous for my health regarding my family relationships. My devolving attitudes created additional division and conflict within the family - them against lonely me.
My mental adjustment did not sit well with my abusive father. My rebellion against him continued while still living at home financially dependent upon him as a college student. He snooped in my room finding my books and evidence he may not have understood was of my stealth transition. There he was the elementary school principal and lay director of our Catholic parish's education program, finding ways to become more abusive to me, frequently beating me and assaulting me with impunity.
I felt trapt. There were no domestic abuse hotlines as there are today. There were no police available for my protection. If anything, if I dared called for any help of what little existed at that time, then I would have been the one targeted as the violator, not my dad, this well-respected man of the community. The police would have put me in prison or worse - involuntary and indefinite commitment to the psycho ward.
About a decade ago, when my Catholic parish faced legal troubles during the exposure of the pederast priest scandals, I learned my dad was a co-conspirator with the parish's youth pastor. My dad died in 1989 at age 62; he evaded that scandal in life but his legacy persists in his death.
I suppose among my more notable changes is my loss of quick temper. I am easy-going, mellow, and deliberative. The absence of abusive family is a great load lifted off my shoulders. I discovered my path to be who I am. I would say that I am who I always was.
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