My earliest memory was sometime between Head Start and first grade (I don't have much memory of anything or a coherent sense of time before second grade), the teacher was trying to teach the words male and female I think. She asked all the females to stand up first, so all the girls stood up, but so did I. When she told me specifically to sit down, I was confused and worried I did something wrong. Then she told all the females to sit down and the males to stand up. All the boys stood up. And with a look that makes me feel like a retard even today, and a voice filled with frustration, she told me specifically to stand up. A sudden realization hit me and I cried.
Another time I wet myself during naptime and the teacher (not the same as the previous story) had a spare pair of purple girls underwear. I remember wondering why they were so much nicer than all the underwear my mom bought me, but I didn't think too hard on it. My mom freaked out over it when she found out later at home. She threw them away and made me wear the bland stuff she bought me. I think this is before I understood the difference between boys and girls, so I didn't understand why she was mad at me.
Another time I remember was at Christmas, my grandma bought all three of us baby dolls. I opened up the box and as soon as I saw it, I was horrified. I thought "But boys aren't supposed to play with dolls! They're going to hurt me if I get caught playing with this." I remember looking at my parents trying to figure out what they thought about it, to see if they were mad at me. It never did figure out that the kitchen set wasn't for boys either.
I was always sad that the other girls wouldn't have anything to do with me when we played at school. The schools counselor wherever I went usually had to pair me up with other boys in class because they were so worried about me lurking in the shadows alone. In the 6th grade I hurt every part of my body trying to make friends at lunch, because everyone else was playing soccer. After that failure I just went back to finding some secluded shadows to sulk in.
Most of the time I wouldn't let myself think about it. A few times I had a dream where I was a real girl, and I would be so happy until I wake up. I fell into a few minor depressions like that, trying so hard to think about something else. I couldn't be a girl, it just wasn't possible.
My mom took me to the doctors who diagnosed me with Bipolar disorder the year before, their reasoning was my "high" moods and "low" moods, and the fact that I would usually break into tears "at the drop of a hat". I saw a therapist for about a month, but since I had no idea how to articulate what was wrong with me without sounding insane, I never really talked to him. I was on this drug called Depakote for a few years. I hated it, nothing ever felt right and I was just going through life on autopilot. I stopped taking it once in the 5th grade (I think) and suffered horribly for it. I eventually figured out how to ween myself off of it sometime in the 6th grade.
My biggest depression was in the 7th grade when I got my first computer made from dated parts that my dad replaced with his constant upgrades. I had got onto the internet completely unrestricted. I came across pictures of girls doing things I knew no boy could ever get away with. Cute things, girly things, things I so desperately wished I didn't have to specifically avoid doing by accident. I was in bed fantasizing about the life I should have had, and crying for the rest of the month. If I had just Google'd "I want to be a girl" then, I could have saved myself from that, asked for a therapist who specialized in gender stuff, I may even have been able to go through high school as a girl. Instead I chose to repress it again, put it out of my mind because it's impossible.
It wasn't until my sophomore year I had my first awakening. It was already too late to see a therapist. I wasn't covered on health insurance anymore, we lived in Kentucky and the school's counselor and my mom both agree'd the kids at school would give me trouble if I showed up as a girl. I had to wait until I was 18 and could do stuff for myself.
18 came and went, high school was over, and suddenly my mom's signing me up for college at the place she works. No way could I embarrass her at her own job like that.
So here I sit with a degree that still can't find me a job, no money, no progress beyond my long hair, once again feeling the debilitating dysphoria. Still living with my parents because I couldn't manage a job and still get straight A's in college.
Now I need to find a therapist on my own and hope I get lucky with no money. And I just hope I can get on HRT without having to go full time first. My parent's will never notice, and I don't have to fear being kicked out on my own before I've found a job.
I think I got carried away here...
Yeah, I guess I did "know" as a child. I wish that I understood instead.