Bitch and moan, Okay.
The story of Monkey…
I don’t know exactly when I knew I was different from the other boys, the first clear memory I have of the feeling was once in primary school (I was maybe 6 or 7, so convert for your local school system) when the class was seperated into Boy and Girl groups for some reason, I spent that whole day wondering why I was in the wrong group, but I was smart (or dumb) enough not to talk ask, possibly because I didn’t have the words to really say what I felt.
Move onto Secondary school, I was 13 and was told in (VERY catholic) school about the evils of “The Gays”, I figured that’s what I was, and again, didn’t talk about it lest God strike me down. So I grew up, socially awkward, nerdy and from what I’ve been told since, suspected by many to be borderline autistic. I developed a mild form of OCD, I had to stack things correctly, which I still do from time to time when I’m distracted or stressed, I’d spend hours piling things up until they were exactly right and in order.
At 16 I attempted suicide for the first time. This was no cry for help, this was a concentrated attempt to end my life. I woke up in hospital, I’d been found by my neighbor who wondered why I had been lying in the back garden for an hour. I went into the hospoital, and stayed there for 9 months, it wasn’t until I told them I was never going to try it again over and over that I was released.
I tried again as soon as I could, this time I jumped from a warehouse roof, and broke my pelvis. Back to hospital, this time I said I was with friends, and they dared me, no psych ward this time around.
So I went back to the miserable life I felt was inescapable, and fairly quickly turned to drugs. Manchester in the mid 90’s was a good place for the drug trade, guns too, I thought about buying one to use on myself, but bizzarely I was too scared to, because I didn’t want to break the law.
I was a few months past my 18th birthday when I fell in love for the first time. He was fantastic, everything I wanted, except he wasn’t gay, so I followed him to university like a puppy, and inevitably dropped out when it finally became clear to me that it was never going to happen, this did take 2 years so I was at the very least persistant.
somewhere around my 21st birthday I manage to die for a few minutes, slamming my car into a bridge support going 90 on the motorway, they bring me back on the hard shoulder.
This time I get out of hospital by agreeing to “care in the community”, I get put up in a tiny bedsit, and 3 times a week go for counciling. I actually come out of my shell because of this and make some friends, including Kate who becomes important later.
I go back to university, the same course as Kate, who quickly becomes my best friend and confidant, the first person I tell the truth about me, the first person to punch me in the face for being stupid, and the first person to take me to the support group I never knew about that had been 20 minutes from my house the whole time.
Second year at university I get approved for hormone therapy, and 9 months after that, I go what is called in the Trans-community “Full time”. I start living full time as a woman, except when my family are around, I actually manage to keep them from knowing for a year. I decide the best bet is to write my family a letter, i know, cowardly, but it really seemed the smartest thing to do at the time.
My family abandon me at this point, the few time they do talk to me is to tell me how evil and selfish I am, and that’s it, I’m cast out into the world.
Kate’s family steps in and take me in, an adoption in every sense except legal, when the time comes for me to legally change my name, they insist I take the family name, which made me cry in a good way for a good long time.
I graduate university with a BS degree, and spend the next few years just living happy, my ulcer mostly cleared up, and my OCD slowly went away, and people stopped thinking I was autistic, just a little bit weird.
That pretty much brings me up to date, I’ve never fallen in love again, not sure if I ever will, but I’m happy in myself, with the people I surround myself with, and my collections of awesome things, and I’m going back to university next year to study for a masters degree in English so I can try my hand at teaching.
So there you go, lots of bitching and moaning, but hopefully a happy ending.
Dear lord its almost 1130, timefor bed!.
And thank you for sharing your story. I can’t say I know what you’ve been through, but I know what it is to feel different. None of my family understands my geekiness. I can’t imagine how much harder it would have been for you. My heart goes out to you!