It’s not hard for me to see where I fit into this world now.
If you had asked me not four years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to give you a clear answer; I was a confused girl stuck in a predominately male body, and feeling very lost. I wasn’t sure that the place I am in now was going to be any better, and although the snow-covered Turkish Delights of Narnia seemed easier, reality had to kick in. Unfortunately for me it wasn’t just a swift kick though the trees and clothes out of the wardrobe.
My doctors at the time made it harder by asking open questions about the possibility that I might just be gay, or just different, and suggesting that being a girl wouldn’t change anything. Well, I have to say that as treacherous as much of the journey out of the closet was, I am much better for it. If I had listened to the psychiatrist I had at the time, I know I wouldn’t have been as happy as I am now. I would still be stuck in the make-believe world I had created to shelter myself.
I — like so many gender questioning teens — was stuck in an unfortunate position where I was scared to come out to everyone because, in my mind, they wouldn’t understand. For some, that was true; and for others, it wasn’t. It was an eye opener though and it showed me who my real friends are and who was only interested when I was fitting into their mould of what every boy should be.
At this time I probably should mention that my sister was the first person I actually came out to. She was probably the easiest and best case scenario anyone could ask for.
I told her over Skype and although a little taken back she managed to ask, “Are you sure?” a few times and then she said, “Okay if this is what you want. You’re my little sis”.
I guess I should have known that she would be great with it, and she really put me at peace with it all.
The hardest thing I ever had to do was tell my dad. Dad and I had always been reasonably close and this made everything harder because I knew how much he loved having me as his son. My brother wasn’t always around that much and, until I started to transition, he was always the black sheep of the family.
Because of this, I had always been the one that Dad took everywhere and did all his manly bonding with, and as much as I enjoyed his company most of the time, I didn’t enjoy the stuff we did or the places we went. I was on my way back from holidays in the US around Christmas time and, because of the length of the flight, had a lot of time to think about coming out to Mum and Dad when I got home.
Dad picked me up at the airport on Christmas Eve and decided that he needed a coffee, so on the way home we stopped off at his favourite coffee shop. After ordering and sitting down he asked how I was doing, seeing as he hadn’t seen me in over 7 months.
I gave the standard “alright” kind of answer and then asked him the same. Sensing that I had something on my mind he quizzed me if everything was okay, and let me tell you it was only a matter of seconds before I broke out in tears.
I blurted out “I can’t handle keeping it to myself anymore.”
Viola’s story is continued, here.
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