Attended the second appointment a few days ago: (24/7/2014)
My reflection:
It was not as I had expected, he is a nice person, very professional, empathetic and someone I could easily respect. Although this second consultation was harder than the last as I had to remove another layer to psychic armour. Indeed, I was left confused towards the end as he said I want to meet the real you next time. At first, I thought he meant wear a dress or something. Which I could not do as it would kill me inside at this point to face the world in this manner; in fact, the harm it would do is beyond imagination. I left petrified and had to drive to a nearby side street where I cried my eyes out. A thing I refuse to let others see as it would open the floodgates. In reality, I find talking about my life hard to do as I have trust issues and sadly I struggle opening up to people.
I told him that I had been living as a female when I was homeless and that I stopped because I began to look more and more male in my early twenties. However, there is more to it than that.
I spoke a few months ago about how I lived on the streets in Adelaide, Sydney and in more towns than I can count on two hands when I was 14-15 onwards. It was a dark period in my life. I even learnt a few years ago they had a name for us. They called us "Australia's second lost generation." They wrote articles and even a few books about us. In the late 1990s and early 2000s we lived in the shadows and fringes of towns, moving from one place to the next forgotten and unseen by society. Indeed more than half of us suicided, or ended up dead from drug addiction.
I survived but not without my fair share of scars too.
During this period I was forced to live in situations that were unsafe and to survive, I create new personas to protect myself. It is hard to explain I suppose but in my mind, it was like donning full plate armour so that I could hide behind it encapsulated and shielded from the pain of it all. Indeed the only time I could be "me" was when I emerged at night in my real clothing and untied my long dark hair, styling it and allowing my eyes to look at the world without the haze of his control. I would walk the streets; watch the other children my age with their families and friends hoping that they would save me. I would sit outside restaurants and see them smile and laugh and wonder what it must feel like to be held and told I was loved. However, they never did and it took away my innocence.
One day I met a girl and we feel in love, she knew who I was and she did not care she simply loved me and I loved her in return. She had the bluest eyes, the warmest smile and the kindest words to say about everyone. I never had seen her once say anything bad about anyone. We would walk hand in hand, dance, sing and laugh. It was wonderful even if we had nothing, just each other. Sadly one night we were taken and drove into the Adelaide hills where four men beat us both up for being a cis girl and a transgirl in a relationship. I can remember this 20-year-old man's face and the blood. I remember his screams as I drove the tyre iron into his face and the other men screaming as they pushed us out on to the road near eagle on the hill. We walked into the city and she ended up in the Adelaide hospital for a week. She was never the same after it. When we spoke to the Police, they said they would look into it, but we knew they could care less about two street kids.
She became a drug addict and I lost her to an overdose. Unfortunately, something dark was born inside me because of it, something that I had carried since that day in Ireland. The "traveller" took control once more and Sarah got hidden lost to the abyss. I would hear her voice from time to time, but to live it meant ignoring her and giving him control. It took another ten years silence him and I was reborn as me.
I am sure this all sounds rather silly. Yet I feel I need to be honest and maybe then I can let her free for real. Until then I wear my mask hoping he can never find me again.
