Submitted by Melissa (6/6/2004)

The beginning....

My first memory was of being 4 or 5 years old. I cannot remember my exact age. It was the dead of night. I had gone into my sister's trailer, which she had left unlocked, and I was rummaging through a pile of clothes of hers. Most of them were too big for me, but I found some pretty things that could fit. I even thought to myself "I'm a girl. I SHOULD wear pretty things." Once I got back to my room, in my parents' trailer, the shit hit the fan. Not for the theft, but over WHAT I had stolen. You see, at that time, the world considered me a boy, and what I thought didn't matter. Thus came the first (that I could recall) of many situations that threatened to destroy my very self-identity. That night I asked a question that would define the course of my life.

"Mommy, why ain't I a girl like I'm supposed to be?"

The corruption begins...

As a child, I was extremely violent. The fact that I was not allowed to express myself, combined with the small amounts of testosterone poisoning my brain, and the constant ridicule I endured, made for something that could better be described as a powderkeg, rather than a human being. I would destroy things without a thought. Outside, I looked as though I hadn't a care in the world, but I was crying almost constantly inside. That was the last straw for my parents, and they decided to admit me to a mental hospital for my so-called "behavior problems." While there, I entertained many thoughts of escape. There was a seperate girls' dorm, and sometimes, they'd put me in the isolation room in that dorm. They never locked it, though. I guess they figured a boy would be too intimidated to wander around in that dorm. However, I wandered around a lot, and immersed myself in the examples there of childhood femininity. For those brief moments, I was at peace, and almost whole. Soon, I was out of there.

The cost.

Puberty hit me like a ton of bricks, and after a couple of years where I had not noticed how I felt, it was all there again. My body was becoming this malformed thing, and time was running out. Somehow, my body escaped being fully masculinized. My face was surprisingly feminine, and still is to this day. The rest of my body was not so lucky. I had a linebacker-type build, and my weight balooned to 300 pounds. Every day felt like the end of the world. The ridicule was ceaseless, even in thse days, and I felt as though I wanted to die many times. Once I got into high school, the worst thing that could happen DID happen. My mother passed away. In those younger years of struggle, she was the only one that understood. In the years that my father was jailed, she allowed me to dress as a female. Those brief moments of freedom were the absolute best. My only regret is that I did not treat her better while she was alive.

The risk...

At that moment when I realized I could not get her back, something snapped. The boy I was pretending to be seemed to die at the same time. All of a sudden, I was alone. The feelings of wanting... no, NEEDING to be a girl, were so strong at the time, there was no holding them back any longer. I came out to some of my friends, and shortly after that, I did not go fully feminine, but in an androgynous way. I was starting to become more stable again. But, as usual, the world was again trying to force me to conform to their ideal of what they thought I should be. This time, there was no turning back, and in my struggles, I had an unexpected ally; my father, who in my younger years, would ridicule me for liking anything "too girly." Now he was willing to fight for me. The school had finally had enough. This was at a time of school shootings, zero tolerance, and rampant fear. They decided I was to be removed. The reason they gave at the time: Making a death threat to another student. The real reason they got rid of me: I was transsexual, and nothing they could do would put me back into the "male" box.

The end that wasn't.

Years passed, as I wondered just what to do with my life. I had heard of the surgery I would require to be as close to complete as I would ever become, but it seemed to be an unacheivable goal. For that reason, I did nothing, and slipped into panic attacks that to this day still keep me from doing anything that needs to be done. By now I was "out" to my therapist, and a lot of the friends I had remaining. I was also slipping into drugs, alcohol, and depression. It came to a head on January 29th, 2003. I was finally about to end it. All seemed hopeless. I saw where my life was going, and I didn't want to go in that direction. Instead, I was committed again. This place was different. Finally, I had to put up or shut up. I figured, if anyone could possibly help, it'd be someone there. I outed myself, to the shrinks, to the counselors, and to a girl there who I felt a strong connection with. Not a romantic one, though. On the day she left, she christened me "Zoe." Turns out outing myself there did no good otherwise, and I was slipping again as I was released. I was no better off than when they had brought me there.

The last straw.

I bought a computer in July and was online again by August. I roamed around IRC, looking for a place with others who felt the way I felt. I found it shortly after, I even chose a first name for myself, from then on, I would be known as "Melissa." However, in real life, things were coming to a head. I was at the end of my rope. In November I decided that if I was not able to live as myself by my next birthday, there would BE no next birthday. But how, when I could not pass to myself? In early December, I had started on hormones. Late December saw me moving out to Colorado to live with someone I had met through IRC. It was a huge risk, but at the time, there was either reward or death for me.

The reward!

On December 29th, I arrived in Colorado Springs, and was taken to that Candice's apartment. I hopped in the shower, and washed away the last of the person I pretended to be. I walked out of there, seemingly unburdened by the baggage my precursor was carrying. I breathed the air, and looked around, seeing through my own eyes for the first time. The scenery was beautiful, but not as beautiful as the peace I could feel within me. I had needed to go pick up some things, so off I went, free at last, the last chains holding me back lying broken at my feet.

To this day, I have never looked back, never relied on that person to get me through a rough time... I have friends of my own now, and also have a few of "his" friends as well, they have accepted me as they accepted him at one point. I'm engaged now to a very wonderful, albeit tortured woman, something I could never see happening while I was living as "him." I've even accepted that I might have a few personality traits that could be considered masculine by others. Life has turned around completely for me. I write this now as my body goes through puberty yet again. It is an agonizing process, but at least this time, it is occuring the right way. No longer do I have to ask why I'm not a girl like I was supposed to be.

Now all I ask is "Why'd I wait so long to live as the girl I am?"

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