When I was 4 (1958) I told my mum I was a girl. She chuckled and told me I was silly because I was a boy and boys can't be girls. I continued to have dreams where I was a girl.
When I was 7 I was upset, and mum asked me what was wrong. I again told her I was a girl, but this time, there was no argument from mum. Her face was showing her concern. In that time, and in my neighbourhood, it was dangerous to be seen as anything but stereotypically straight, so, almost in tears, my mother hugged me and told me the nobody can hear what I just said or I would be in serious danger. She told me that if anyone found out, I would be taken to an asylum and shocked until I got that idea out of my head. (And this was a practice at the time).
I still dreamed I was a girl, but now everyone was chasing me to catch me and lock me up. My dreams became nightmares for the next couple of years, and it imbedded a deep fear of exposing myself in daily life. My mother and I never spoke a word about this topic ever again, but after I came out in 2019, my brother told he and my mother spoke about it often. Not being able to share this part of me with my mother through my life is one of my biggest regrets, and always makes me sad.
Hugs,
Allie
