I would have to go with the brain-sex theory, 'cause the doctors of the past tried to "fix" me with therapy and it didn't work.
As a kid, I went to therapy for my "gender confusion," and it didn't work. In those days, it was believed that you could -- especially if one was a young child -- reverse Transsexualism if you caught it early enough. That theory, since then, has been debunked a lot.
As a teen, I did some therapy, especially 'cause I'd cut myself, tried to commit suicide, and would keep trying to wear make up. I didn't know anyone else like me, and I was told that I was a nut case. The only exposer was once watching a talk show where you had to "spot the ->-bleeped-<-" and the over all tone was ridicule. Seeing that further drove me into depression, and the feeling that I was a "freak."
During my childhood and teens, I was beaten and even tortured 'cause I was so effeminate. I grew up in very poor conditions. My mother was a drug addict, hooker, and her boyfriends were often dangerous. We were the ones living in the abandoned house with no power, water, or food. I'd be locked up for days in a borded up room. I'd be beaten. I'd have a gun to my face, and told how awful of a person I was.
My grandparents, who were involved in the church, introduced the church to my brother and me. My mom figured it would be good that we got some good influence, and we could also use the church for food and outs.
In our eyes, to have someone tell us that were were loved and wanted attracted us. Looking back, I still can't believe the bruises on my face were left ignored; and instead the church used our situation to sell us religion. Instead of doing something -- like getting me out of the situation -- they told me to pray, and to work hard at trying to prove my worthiness to the church and god. I never felt 100% accepted, although, 'cause nothing I ever did was good enough. I found I was working to be loved, and longing to be loved, but I was only being sold empty faith.
I tried, although. The trans issues kept coming, and so did the confusion. No matter how much I prayed -- how much I begged -- god, it wouldn't be taken away. I felt a sense of great guilt and believed my abusive and troubled home was punishment from god for me being a transsexual. I believed the blind eye as confirmation, and the scolding from the church leaders about my gender identity issues as a testament to my punishment.
I thought if I was only good enough. If I only tried hard enough, someone would love -- god would love me. I'd be some how saved from the hell I was living in. But nothing happened. In my mind I was still a woman no matter how much faith I bought and how many punches I took for god.
I was surely the devil with the black dress on. Sent to hell the moment I was born, and there wasn't anyway I was getting out.
At 19 the church convinced me to go on a mission for them, where they would also put me through therapy to get over my transsexualism (a sin in their eyes). I partook in a lot of psych testing (3 hours worth) which confirmed that gender identity was the root of my other psychological problems (namely, depression). I took therapy for a year, and during that time a private psychologist who worked for the church attempted to use medication to "cure" me of my transsexual psychosis.
At the end of the year, I was taking 32 pills a day in drug cocktail. I tried getting out before, which included a suicide attempt and two times that I ran away. A year being on heavy medication and therapy, I was pretty messed up and they sent me back home.
Back home, the docs from the mission sent a letter to my doctors telling them how I was a borderline, and was schizo-affective and borderline. I continued on the medication (but with out anti-trans therapy). I was extremely messed up and ended up on the streets ('cause I told my family that I refused to go to church). I then ended up in a youth shelter and then in a group home for the mentally ill.
Then, after another suicide attempt, I was sent to a psychatric institution for a little over a year, and then back into the group home after that. I barely even remember those times, I was very out of it and extremely damaged mentally.
Yet, my brain still told me I was a woman.
After a while, my medications were slowly lowered and I was deemed to be able to live on my own (with disability aide). I moved to a bigger city, and there they finally got me off all of the medications. I lived with my brother in the city, who still was involved in the church. I refused to go, however, 'cause the anxiety was so great.
I tried to transition once again, but my brother decided to bring the church over and also make fun of me. This threw me back mentally and I went into hermit mode. I was damaged so badly psychologically. Again, I started to cut myself, went back on meds (but a lower dose) and wish that I would die.
My brother got married and moved out, and I tried to move on with my life some how. I knew that I couldn't transition in the state that I was in. I worked hard to heal myself. I tried working part time jobs and also went to college for a few months. I worked hard to make friends, get me out of my shell, and heal myself. I also went without medication.
It wasn't until I was 26-27 that I finally got to the point where I started to transition. Where I could stand up and be mentally sound and not resort to suicide attempts or shutting myself out from the world. It took a lot of time to heal, to recover and to be who I knew I was inside.
I'm now 30, and I ain't looking back.
Although I still sometimes struggle with depression due to the psychological trama I've experienced most of my life -- I'm more happier and content then I've ever been. I feel whole. It's a feeling I've never felt before.
My gender is definitely hard-wired. No therapy, beatings, or faith could remove it. I think if it were a choice, it would have been much easier to take the well worn path, than the road less traveled.
--Natalie
