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I don’t know why this always turns out to be a task that is hard for me to complete. I joined CDH and help form TGH so I would have a comfortable place to be myself. I do find my other things to do here, but the main reason I joined was to write.
At sometime in my life, I wrote what I felt. And I didn’t feel judged.. But then something happened, I didn’t like bad or harsh criticism. OK maybe it wasn’t that. Thinking about it, I remember, it got me in trouble. Why? I was to honest. Like I wrote before, I wrote how I felt. And I felt it made me sound feminine, gay, a sissy, and all those other names I could be called.
I don’t know why it mattered so much back then. Maybe just the fact that being different and having to fit in was the only way to be safe. Maybe that is my biggest regret. I didn’t write. I stopped writing, and filed every story and essay in my head, so no one would know me. I would leave no trace of the femininity, the fantasies, the truths that only I know. But not know that doing as I did, would permanently alter my life.
I would become bitter, heartless, and empty of any joy.
Why this matters today, is because, 6 years ago, I held a knife to my chest as I slept. I either was going to us it to protect myself or end my life. One of the lucky times that she left me alone after a fight and a mental break down. In some way that knife killed me. Cause I woke and accepted a reality that only was a fantasy and untouchable. The secret I swore I would take to my grave. I accepted I was transgender, and that I would live this life happy and different.
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