(written March 7th, 2010)
So, what do you do when the things your soul and destiny is pulling you toward do not make sense in pretty much every way, yet, make sense in perhaps the only way that matters?
I have always wanted to be a boy. Let me correct that. I always thought I was a boy until I was forced to adjust to dress and act like a girl. Even as a young kid, I loved my family, my friends and society – there was no sacrifice I wouldn’t make to keep in harmony. But as we all know, there are intentions and then there are things that are simply your nature that seem to seep out no matter how much your heart is in the right place. The older I got, the more depressed I got. It all started with having crushes on my girl friends and resolving to never act on them to the point I was not comfortable enjoying the physical and mental closeness friends are meant to share. This made life so much lonelier – not to feel like I could hug them, sleep in the same bed or touch their hair without this utter fear of being perverted (even when there were no romantic feelings involved on my end at all with the person). This is one of the reasons I am so easily affectionate and natural with guys. I have never had to stump what is natural with guys… in fact, with guys I have done the opposite: stretching it in hopes of getting to the point my role would be no longer a role but genuinely become the core me.
If I were just lesbian, that would be one thing. But… then I started growing breasts. I have been hunch-backed ever since then (most of you still have to correct my posture every time you see me). My teacher in elementary school even called in a parent-teacher conference with my mom about this. I was too afraid to tell them the full truth – that I didn’t feel like a girl and didn’t want these breasts. So, I only told them that I was ashamed of them since I was the first one to grow them in my class. She gave me these exercises to do with my arms and shoulders for a straight back and told me I would grow out of feeling this way and that there was nothing to be ashamed of.
Growing up with a sister who is totally into being a girl was one of the biggest reasons I put so much pressure on myself – everybody looked up to her and I wanted to in the same manner as well; but I never wanted to be like her, in truth. I always just wanted to be her little brother who was there for her like a big brother, lol. Then I got my period for the first time at age 11. I remember my mom telling me what to do with the pad and my sister saying how she could not believe my maturity and ‘okayness’ with having periods. She didn’t know that it was nothing compared to what I had already been going through – what is another weight on my shoulder? I was resilient because this was just another burden to bear and unlike the breasts it would at least be temporary in its reminder of how the body I am in is not the right gender/unnatural.
I allowed her (sis) to give me makeovers, put lipstick on me and one day I even wore a tight top with short shorts to school (yes, still in elementary school). One thing I had never lacked was courage to fully insert myself in what I want to believe to be right. This has probably been the root of all the misery throughout my life. My life has been a tug-of-war, a see-saw, a total DICHOTOMY because of this very struggle between who I feel I am and who I ought to be according to the principles of the things I care more about than myself: God, my family and certain friends. There were things I could get away with as a child when I was extra young; like, my interest in sports, playing with cars, boy haircuts and dressing like a boy. Some of these things I got to continue to do like sports, but so many things that I had to start behaving differently with publicly, felt like I had to choke 50% of who I am. And if anyone had to ever do something similar, you know that cutting half of yourself out makes the authentic leftover half nearly worthless in the sense of ability to be fully joyous and functional.
We are made perfectly in our souls – though our bodies are imperfect. When I watched this documentary and heard Scott say how there is nothing he wants to change about his soul, it was for the first time that I felt someone truly experienced all I have and feel. The outside does not match the inside… it can be the prettiest shell, but I will always be unhappy (and I will admit it: suicidal like I have been for most of my life) if I don’t find a way to reconcile this issue. I significantly and satisfactory tried everything I possibly could: be straight, be a lipstick lesbian, be a dyke lesbian, be celibate, forget about it all together and focus on other things in life for years, etc. I always told myself that the reason for my depression was my ‘logistical’ status, finances, and or simply being gay. But what you guys don’t know is that this rut has been going on since I was a child in Holland. I can say that I started being depressed over my gender as young as at age 6-7 and knew I was a boy ever since birth.
We (my family/friends and i) have been wracking our brains wondering why someone as ‘beautiful, talented, intelligent, courageous, energetic, social, etc’ as me cannot get her life together. What is there to be sooooooooo depressed about to become this dysfunctional when it is obvious that I am not mentally or psychologically challenged/damaged? I am a complete person. Yes, I have it harder in some really big ways that other people don’t due to my ‘that’ issue and trusting a lot of the wrong people to help me, along with a few other things I could mention… but still I am extremely happy and enthusiastic and realistic. The ONLY issue is, again, the physical does not match the soul – the person and personality that is my born and core and true self, which makes my place in society and pursuit of love and intimacy nearly impossible. The closest to being happy as a child is when I would go get my boy haircuts. I vividly remember how happpppy, centered, full of light and ease I was each time.
Funny enough…. The genuinely happiest I have felt since then was when I had my hair cut short like a boy again October of 2009. Those that were there and those that have experienced it after the cut… how much more fun and real and relaxed and ME was I to be around once I did this? I was beaming. I could wake up in the morning again, my depression was subsiding. Until… I decided that I have to grow it out again. You see, the hair alone made such a huge difference, but it wasn’t enough…. I was still struggling with two things: my voice, and, my breasts. Even when I TOTALLY looked and felt like myself… a guy… the second I would have to open my mouth like to the cashier at the grocery store, it (my joy) would just all crumble and I would almost feel like a freak. Like a Domino-effect from the voice thing, the breast thing started to burst its bubble for me, as well. Even putting on the tightest sports bra wasn’t good enough to make me feel like I could walk tall and proud and happy again.
So, I gave in… even though I had prayed and found peace with God about being gay, then willingly tried being straight for God…. thennnnnnn I reverted my beliefs and the truth, again — I got wigs, started growing out my hair and thought to myself… I am not a dyke-lesbian, I am not very good at being a lipstick lesbian, I have gotten really good at this feminine bi character and look. The dyke lesbian made me happiest albeit the joy was short-lived, then the lipstick lesbian, then the bi girl let alone straight Shae. The point is that being that feminine bi Shae gave me the best chances at fitting in with society. I still get to be with girls, I still get to try and become straight, and I look and act the farthest from a ‘freak’ as I possibly could while retaining some sanity. You guessed it – I got it wrong again.
There has only been one thought throughout all of this that made sense to me and clicked in an unexplainable truth in my heart: transgender surgery. At first I didn’t want to consider it because of my height. Then I realized how so many in love do not care about such imperfections as height, looks, dick size… just so many examples. I have seen guys as tall as me or shorter getting married and having their wives be totally in love with them. So, I said ok Shae(y) what are you going to do? Are you going to wait until you are 30 or 40 to finally start being functional by dealing with this depression and stress of a double-life? First of all, I don’t know how on earth I am going to get the money… but where there is a Shae (or Shay as I will change it!) there is a way – not like I am stuck in a 3rd world village.
You know that question they tell you to ask yourself? “If you could do anything you wanted regardless of money or any other obstacle, what would make you happy to do in life?” My answer is 1million percent a sex change surgery. Remove these breasts, give me my testosterone voice and body and my penis. Just let me go through life being able to stand tall, shine without having to, then again, imprison my shine. This on and off, happy-unhappy, energetic-lifeless… this switch is not healthy and I am no good to God, myself or anyone or anything in this world. I can’t believe I finally found the root, the answer… and how impossible it seems. But it has been done and people have manifested more outrageous dreams. I choose to believe. I am releasing this into the world and may God’s mercy bring it to a beautiful, healthy, successful reality. Imagine how hard and dysfunctional life would be for you if you had to go through it wanting to physically be another gender? I used to beat myself up for failing at things… now I look at everything as: wow, I am proud of my persistence and courage to try and try and tryyyyy under the most strenuous conditions I never gave myself credit for until now that I am no longer afraid to acknowledge the truth of it: sex reassignment surgery is right for me. The question now is only when will i make this completing transition?
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