Growing up, me and my brother were in church every Sunday. My mom always told us, at night to pray before we went to sleep, and God would listen. I prayed, every single night from around 4 years old, I'd wake up as a boy. I prayed my body would look like my brothers. Yet would wake up, disappointed, every morning. I obviously didn't know what being Trans was back then, but I did KNOW I was different.
Like you, I'd lock myself in my parents closet, put on my dads suits, and his cowboy boots, and check myself out in the mirror. I too, put shaving cream all over my face, and remember my mom walking in on my laughing, and helping me wash it off. Scream, yell, and kick my way out of my Grandparents lake cabin, when my mother tried to put a one piece on me. I'd take off in my shorts and run all the way to the lake, knowing once I was in the water, I was safe, and she wouldn't make me get out.
Luckily, I have an absolute angel of a mother, and by the time I was 11-12 she was searching the internet, calling random people, and reading books on subjects she knew nothing about. She introduced me to the term "transgender" around 13-14, and finally things started to make sense.
