tagReviews & EssaysA Transgendered Outline

A Transgendered Outline


This is a re-write of something I wrote a few years back, whilst also been brought update, it isn’t an adult erotic story, its deals with the questions and psychology of been transgendered and also features some of the hardships which I have undertaken whilst my transition has been evolving.

Am I truly beginning to understand the journey, that began 32 years ago, can anyone really understand or comprehend the full impact of a decision which is a 100 % total life changer. Perhaps I find myself re-writing this to explain the thoughts and feelings which still today exist within me and the struggle of everyday life, against what is a relentless onslaught of other people’s thoughts, feelings, abuses and opinions.
This is a factual based story, an account, of one person’s life so far and the struggle of both internal and external influences which are all to frequently made abundantly clear/ perhaps its wrote for my benefit more than others, to clarify, confirm and explain what has gone before and hopefully what shall come in the future.
Every person in this world shares one common thing, we all have our secrets, something or things which both torments and terrorises us, without it, I doubt we would be human. Despite that every person is an individual, a separate entity with their own fears and hopes for their existence, but what happens when you’re fundamental and most profound fear is something you live through day by day. For me without doubt this is the hardest piece of writing I have ever vowed to under take, it is also an update and re-write of something which I began a few years back.
For years my secret has been hidden away, locked up beyond the eyes and mind of those most dear and loved to me, it has brought me to the very edge of where life stops and death per mutates. I have frequently stood upon its edge and looked into the abyss, my thoughts to focused upon ending the pain of a life I can not fully comprehend.
I was brought up to understand each and every person is different, I was taught respect for different cultures, religions, races and persuasions. I was educated at a church school, I can not complain about the education level, but I feel I have the right to complain about their narrow views and bigotry values. It is true at school, I was one of those people who lurked in the corners, saying nothing, but listening and doing the minimum required work. I sought not just to blend into the back ground, but merge into oblivion, say nothing and act with compliance even if my thought process and my mind couldn’t and wouldn’t accept it.
We were taught that every person in life was born with a choice, a reason for existence that all people are god’s creation and his love for them is unquestionable. But in the same breath, those that teach this, those that say they do his work, prejudge those that sit before them. From the age of six I have questioned why I was born, why I was the person who would have to be created for their torture, later on I found myself questioning whether or not I was classed as a human being in god’s eyes, after all, they told me he didn’t make mistakes.
Why then does he create a life that is immediately trapped, smothered and tortured by an existence which can not be lived through? Was I a child of the devil, tempted in someway, because according to many in the church, I can not be one of his children? Have you ever looked around you at others and wondered how many more exist like you, how many more go through the same torturous lifestyle, that have expectation heaped upon them, so a fundamental right of choice is denied.
If I have one out standing memory of my younger days from six to nineteen, it’s that I can honestly say, hand on heart that I understand what the word hate really does mean. Most people have periods of disliking something or someone; very few know the real definition of the word hatred. In my case that hatred was just that, absolute and utter raw hatred, not at just anything or any one, but for just one person, who was me.
Imagine that, growing up hating yourself, living inside a body that didn’t feel right and not been able to do anything about it. How about cringing, feel sick every time you caught a glimpse of yourself, dodging camera’s and not wanting to see the end result of those that you had to face. In those teenage years, not one single picture of me has remained, very few were actually taken, but those that were, were destroyed by various accidents or banished into the bin.
My teenage years were over ridden by a self loathing, a hatred of who, or what I was growing up to become. I used to pray, plead even for things to end, for things to change, but they never did, in fact they got worse. How can a person feel completely different inside to how they look on the outside, when I was forced or happen to catch a reflection of myself what did I see, nothing but total horror. I saw a prisoner, a mistake, an individual trapped inside a shell that nature had condemned him to be in. Inside that shell were all the feelings, the beliefs and desires of a female, yet externally were the fittings, fixtures and shape of a male. In your own mind you begin question things that you shouldn’t, answers that could help, at that age elude you, you try and avoid such thoughts, battle against yourself, waging a war that ultimately can not be won, but leads to deeper confusion and depression.
Through out those years and another decade on top I could never say, not once that I liked who I was, for a while I would build up an existence based upon the gender of what people saw. Many nights were spent alone, isolated, locked away from a world that on the whole pleaded ignorance or couldn’t understand. How can a person go through twenty years or more hating themselves, dreading the moment they woke up, knowing that the torture and the hurt would begin all over again.
When I thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did, by my thirties I had endured two breakdowns, buried a young child who died due to cot death and amazingly survived two incidents which should have killed me. Still at this point not one single member of my family knew, there had been many times I had gone through it in my head, enacted it out with both good and bad reactions, but each time something had either been said or had happened which made me rethink the plan.
I knew I had to tell them, I knew also how the vast majority of them would react to it, most were governed by the rule you are who and what you are born. Transgendered people were those that had a fatal mental flaw in them that either did it attention or sexual gratification that was the majority view, though not all but the two who I cared the most about, were unknown quantities, traditional but capable of understanding I thought.
What I didn’t know was how I would tell them, but all changed by my mid thirties when one night in Manchester I ventured out, my very first outing as a female. To say I was petrified was an understatement, I had planned for everything so I thought, what I hadn’t planned for was a photographer who later published a shot on the web. Two days later came the confirmation that time was running out, when leaving work and almost home, a car mounted the pavement and aimed directly at me, the words pervert rang in my ears, as I jumped over a fence or simply got hit by the car.
Within moments I was home and in the mail box a white envelope, unmarked inside a picture of that night, of that club and me with some friends. “Tell them or we do” was all that was printed on its base, I knew the time had come and I knew within 24hrs most people would know.
I told selected parts of my family, mum and sister/s the eldest was horrified and stopped me seeing her children, my youngest sister took it ok, whilst my mum, accepted it, but couldn’t recognise the female side. By the end of the day those that needed to know had been told, by the time I got to work for my evening shift, whoever had left the photograph had also left one at work.
The York police found it amusing and said there was nothing they could do, within six months, I’d had every insult thrown at me that could ever of been thought up. From abuse walking down the street to strangers airing their views, from work colleagues who would look, to of course the car that almost ran me over.
People who say they can’t comprehend those that are transgendered, need to understand something, my life became so miserable that I dared not even go outside. They only way I could continue living was leaving all those that I held dear and loved, imagine been forced out, imagine been tormented, harassed and abused and then imagine that the local police force do nothing because it’s amusing and they are lazy. People say we have equal rights, but rights are only enforced when the authoratites want to actually do something about it, true you could fight and force them, but then they’d only be involved not because they consider it illegal, but because begrudgingly you have perhaps embarrassed them or made them comply.
I left York devastated, depressed but determined to learn, I knew in order to have happiness, I first had to be happy, to stop living a lie and to stop living a life that was for other people, and start living my own life. I decided the new place would be the home of Nicola, the female that had always been there inside of me, the person with whom I felt more comfortable, more relaxed, more at ease and able to live with. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, in fact I was expecting it to be damn right hard, but then the option was to keep running and always hide, something which I couldn’t do, not again as I firmly believed I couldn’t and wouldn’t survive it again.
I’m now living as Nicola, everyone in the place where I call home knows me as Nicola, the abuse is never far away and yes at times I tone everything down just for a quiet life. I’ve had some disputes, some arguments, especially from those that you wouldn’t expect it from, but despite all the trouble, not once have I regretted the decision to live 24/7, yes its been hard and probably will continue to be hard, but for the first time in my life I feel comfortable and am able to at least look at a reflection without feeling repulsion, I may still feel that things are not right, but improvements are been made.
I would just say one thing though, the understanding that needs to be out there regarding transgender won’t be achieved until government accepts fully their involvement. Education has to be implemented, people have to be taught, not that its wrong to discriminate, but why its wrong and for those that say it cant be done, look to history, in the early 80’s/90’s there was a huge campaign about HIV and AIDS, discrimination against those who are gay/lesbian, whilst it hasn’t stopped has been reduced considerably. Religious establishments need to stop pretending to preach good whilst doing evil, how many of their members have been worse things and done worse things, why is it ok to educate about those that are gay/lesbian, but it isn’t ok to educate about been transgendered. As for employers that don’t want to employ or treat customers of a transgendered persuasion with respect, they should be named and shamed, so that they understand the financial impact of their choices, after all we, as transgendered people have the right to spend money, bank money and if you cant accept the people we are, then you shouldn’t expect trade from us.
As for the government, well they need to look into their own employee’s first, as I’ve had first hand experience of how their laws are put into practice and I’ve had two employees whilst working on the government s behalf tell me, I have no rights, other than to do what they say. From my own personal point of view, I’m not asking for anything other than a chance to exist freely and I wont ever shy away from battling against any one or any company that refuses to let me just that. Respect is earnt not given, earn the respect of those who are transgendered and start dealing with what is a serious problem that affects a great many people.

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