I created this blog to discuss and explain the world as my damaged little brain perceives it. Therefore it is important to me to share one of the most difficult realizations of my life. When I was 15 I began to have a crisis of gender. There are very few people in my life that I have talked to about this time of my life.
I have always been aware of my sexuality and accepted is as I accept that I have beautiful feet and awesome finger nails. It simply is a part of me. However; I do have a strong masculine side. I like to hunt, camp, get dirty, do hard labor, bicycle for hours (how I miss the freedom), and I'm an ogler. I like to check out the ladies and fantasize where I am very male. In my younger days it caused me to question my gender. Maybe I'm a boy. I sure was fascinated by the equipment and often fantasied what it must be like. I began to hate myself and be very angry. I clung to any shiny person that would call themselves my friend. Personalities stronger than my own I could hide behind. I cut my waist length hair to an asymmetrical pixie cut. My life was consumed by the personality I created to keep everyone at bay. I was confused my hair was short but I never really had a desire to change anything more than that.
Some days I was butchy with cargo shorts and baggy Ts and some days I was punky and pigtailed. Keeping my appearance at what makes me happy has to be the most important thing I could ever do for myself. Even on days when I think I have gotten too pudgy I will still dress in what is comfortable to me. In the midst of my anger and confusion my wardrobe stayed the window to the rainbow colored girl inside. I began to think that maybe I was a boy that just happened to wear girls clothes. I had several friends like that identified as boys, but wore girls clothes all the time. I questioned everything about myself and hid it from everyone. Often times I told people I was an old school french aristocratic gay man trapped in a girl's body, but also liked girls. I was a confused mess. There were no support groups or trusted friends to confide in and my family? Forget it. My mom still had raging issues with the fact that I might no be a virgin, maybe. I totally still was at the time. Being accused of things is never fun. I felt alone, but did have friends that helplessly watched the spiraling mess with no idea what to do. I am so thankful to those that have hung on through the storm that I once was
My nightly walks and bike rides were my saviors. I spent my nights dissecting and reconstructing my insides. I learned to listen to myself and I learned it was ok to talk to myself and understand everything about me.
At the end of my crisis I was certain I was girl. I love being a girl. My diversity, my femininity, my lady parts; I love the whole package. Besides boobs are awesome and I have my own. In the end it came to this: I had to work at being a boy, but being a girl was my natural gift and I love it. I feel so very blessed to have had a couple of years in gender confusion. I understand that some days I can be a dirt covered gun slinging hunter and some days I'd rather be a glue gun wielding house mommie.
Love the skin you have. Love the mixed up confused mind inside you. Love the unique person that you are. At night you are only obligated to go to bed with yourself and through it all you are the only person you have to wake up to.
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