Transgender Journey

I wish I was a boy. I wish I was a boy. I wish I was a boy. I remember being on my knees every night as a young child through to college hoping and praying that my prayers would be answered. Every morning, however, I faced the unfathomable heartbreak of being TRAPPED for another day in the body of a female.

This article begins to describe my journey from a young child wishing for a miracle to a post op male.

I hope it will inspire and motivate those who think becoming a male is impossible.

I hope it also brings a few laughs and tears to those who share the same struggle.

Lastly, I hope it creates empathy for those who surround us.

I cannot remember a time when I was happy being a girl. For as long as I can remember I have always wanted to be a boy. I couldn't help being jealous when my parents took me clothes shopping and I looked over in the boys' department at all the happy boys. I wanted jeans and a plaid shirt and shirts with Transformers on them and Superman pajamas and a suit for church and trunks for swimming. IT ISN'T FAIR!!

In grade one I remember having my first crush - on a girl! I didn't know what was wrong with me or how to ask my parents if they knew what was wrong with me. I just knew something was definitely not right.

I liked being called a tomboy because it had the word boy in it.

At least I could pick the toys I wanted to play with - guns and trucks and He-Man and Transformers and GI Joe and Super Heroes. Except for my dad's work's Xmas party where Santa would give me an age appropriate girl toy. My sister always got two presents from those parties cause I sure as hell wasn't going to use an EZ Bake Oven!

I can't even begin to describe the humiliation of having to wear a dress or a skirt or pink!

As I grew older my life became increasingly difficult . . .

For the first few grades in school everyone I met simply called me a tomboy. The worst part about school was when we got separated into boys and girls for various reasons. Unfortunately, I would be amongst the girls. Whenever I was separated with the girls all I could do was daydream about being on the boys' side. Sometimes my jealousy of the boys took over my thoughts and I HATED THEM! WHY WERE THEY SO LUCKY TO BE BOYS!

Whenever my parents took me out of the house, I stared at other boys and their families. I could only dream of what it would be like to be called "son" or "brother" or "he" or "him".

I remember my mom and dad taking me to buy a new outfit for school before I started sixth grade. That year they let me choose for myself and I picked an awesome blue sweatshirt with matching sweatpants. To say I was extremely excited to begin the school year in those clothes would be an understatement. It never crossed my mind that I would have problems because I was wearing boys' clothes and had a short haircut and was starting a new school . . .

Journey with me www.ftmjared.blogspot.com