Short form of my backstory...
...at least I'm going to attempt it.
Stepping into the way back machine finds me as a three year old, beginning to ask questions. I noticed, but did not fully understand tha differences between my folks, and my younger sister and I. I could feel a difference in the way my Mom interacted with my sister in contrast with the way she did with me. Yeah, three years old and I'm already becoming aware of relationships, language and even in a rudimentary form.
Mind you, this was not a case of being an older who felt cheated by the new baby. Not hardly. At the time I loved both my parents dearly, and they were both fairly close to me. My Mom much more so than my Dad. I also loved my little sister and did everything I could to help out, and be close to her. We grew up over the years to be really close, for the longest time, my sister and I were best friends.
Things started to come to a head one day while my Mom was giving my sister and I a bath, and I asked he why my sister got to be a "good girl" and I didn't. I was four, my sister was two, and along with a bath I got an early biology lesson that honestly didn't really make much sense to me. Come on, I was four, and while very advanced for my age, anatomy really didn't mean anything to me. My Mom went on to explain that my sister would grow up like my Mom, and I would grow up to be like my Dad. I was heart broken. "But I don't want to grow up to be like him!!!" I asked he if I was really good, and behaved better, could I grow up like her and get my girl parts? She did her best to try to explain that I was being good now, I didn't have to be any better, I was the best little boy in the world and she loved me very much. Yeah, thank's Ma, so not what I wanted to hear then...
I set about to be better, more helpful, quieter, out of the way, not demanding, not misbehaving, nothing. I was working hard on being the golden child. September of the following year I got to start Kindergarten, which my Mom assured me would be fun, I'd meet more people like me, be able to have friends and play. I was looking forward to it. I hadn't mentioned the whole gender thing any further because nothing big had really cemented things for me, and I was certain if I was patient, and a really, really good girl, things would improve.
Yeah, then there was the first day of Kindergarten... Oh, that went SO well. Whole bunch of kids in a room together, a certain amount of gravity and attraction brought groups together. Girls and boys still didn't make 100% sense to me, but I was hanging out with the girls. Until the teacher set about organizing us into two different sides of the room for activities. I of course got stuck with the boys, and I didn't understand. Teacher assured me everything was fine, and I'd get to play with my friends later, but right now, the boys were doing on thing, and the girls another. I didn't get it. I knew by then which group I belonged in, and didn't understand why I was being punished. "What did I do wrong? Why do I have to be over there with them? They are different, not like me...
Didn't go over well, but after some crying and hystrionics I found myself in with the boys. "Okay, I'll deal with it for now, but I'm not coming back. When my parents come and get me, I'm not coming back!" Things got a bit out of hand and I hit a boy. With a big (it was then, I was five) block he was trying to take away from me. I was taken to the principles office, my parents were called, and I got sent home. First day of kindergarten and I was kicked out because I didn't play well with others.
We drove home in silence, me fumming the whole way, and when we got home I tried to have a calm, rational conversation about what I saw as the problems. I'd calmed down by then, so it was an attempt at a rational conversation. After all, my parents had gone out of their way to assure me that no matter what, they would always be on my side, protect me, and listen to anything I wanted to talk about.
Upshot of the conversation was while my Mom tried calm, patient explanations, questions and support, my father bellowed "NO SON OF MINE..." and the rest was lost to hit beating the crap out of me, putting me in one of my sister's dresses and hissing nastiness at me the rest of the day. I was, needless to say, traumatized by the whole thing... It began a long period of me hiding, and a vicious cold war with my Dad until he threw me out of the house when I was 16. All I wanted was love and support, to be who I was, not some strange alien creature, and to have my folks love me, hug me, listen to me...
My Mom was great, and within certain limits allowed my gender variance some out let. I learned to cook, clean, sew, knit, crochet and got to hang out with my Mom and her friends when I wasn't at school or Dad was around. The women in my family, knew something was up, and amazed an confused at how my sister could destroy pots and pans trying to "cook" and got wonderfully tangled in yarn, showed no interest in traditionally girl stuff, yet I excelled at all of it. I even got to bake pastries and serve them and tea to the Majhon group once a week.
When my Dad was around I polished my Starfleet Officer and Vulcan logic to a fine, sharp edge. He'd get short with me, frustrated, argue, or attempt to and I'd give him that cold, hard, Vulcan Logic. He'd beat the crap out of me, I'd break down his madness with reality and push all his buttons with Logic. Never dawned on me that I was only making things worse, plus it just drove us further apart. He wanted me to be the perfect little soldier and grow up to be a real man, I wanted him to love me, give me a hug now and then, a word or two of encouragment... I didn't want much, I got less... I got mental, emotional, verbal and physical violence from him.
Became clear over the years that NO MATTER WHAT I did, nothing was EVER going to be good enough for him. Became really good at Art and Photography, he said I was a sissy and that was never going to pay the bills. Made my own fireworks and a box fed, automatic rocket launcher, grenades and more. Became a techno wiz. Nope, not good enough. Took a year off high school to stay home and take care of my Mom btu still got decent grades AND passed the regents exams two years early. NOT GOOD ENOUGH. Colleges offered ME early admission and free tuition because I was taking AP classes in high school. NOT GOOD ENOUGH.
Got a job after school, started making decent money, and was one of the youngest Assitant Managers ever in the franchise I worked at... More than not good enough, PURE EVIL! I'd gotten a job with out his permission and was saving money. He was out of work taking care of my Mom so I OFFERED him the money I'd saved, and that pushed him over the edge... More bellowing, accusations that I'd stolen the money and more finally he said those famous words: "Don't let the door hit you on the way out!"
So I left and never looked back...
My Mom died two years later.
I went on with life, but was doing the whole Officer and Gentleman act terribly seriously and I thought, pretty well. I was dealing with life, and getting done what I needed to so that I could survive and prove what a complete horse's arse my father was.
In '92 all the gender stuff came roaring back when one of the women I was working with at MCI headquarters called me on it. Gently, and carefully she started asking questions, getting me to look at my life and pointing out that I really wasn't one of the boys... Yeah, right. I KNOW that, so long after she had figured it out, I admitted to her that I'd had problems with it my whole life and didn't thing there was anything I could do about it.
I promptly came up with this monsterous list of reasons I couldn't do anything about it, but the cat so to speak was out of the bag and I was slowly spiraling down. I'd only moved to Colorado the year before because in '89 when I was there on business I knew I'd meet HER there and had to move.
I was still looking for love, for the one right person to share my life with. All the woman I'd dated up until this point had left me with a broken heart, one because I was too much a lesbian for her, and didn't want to be outted to her folks yet... I stood there shocked as she walked out the door. We'd been engaged at that point. He last words to me were you should just go have the surgery and get on with your life. I hadn't told her a thing...
It was an odd life I was living. Right before I'd moved to Colorado I'd dated Pat, who insisted I become more human, have some emotions, show them, look like a person instead of a block of stone. I faked it, fairly well I quess, we were together a year and a half before she started making noise about wanting to see other people. I was crushed. But I was looking and seeming a little more human... Yeah, right. Human, just not very stereotypically Male...
So I kept on with life, traveled some for business, didn't have many relationships (or really any) for the longest time because I'd been hurt so much. I'd become terribly successful in technology, wsa making plenty of money, spending it on friends and family, and trying really had not to think, all while hoping I'd fall in love and who I was wouldn't matter...
Well, almost. In '96 I met Earl. Mind you at the time there was still only a handful of people who knew my secret, more strongly suspected than I'd ever imagined, and of course one my sisters, well she was sure. Anyway, I met Earl while I was still living and working in Colorado, just as my hunch had said. He lived and worked in NY of all places. Couple miles east of Wall Street where I'd been working when I went to Colorado on business in the first place.
We hit it off really well, really fast. He still didn't know my secret, I didn't know his. I flew out for a long weekend to finally meet him, but I was already head over heels stupid in love. If he'd have me, I'd marry him...
Four months later we were engaged and started planning our wedding. He and his folks were amazed at how involved I was, and wanted to be with the wedding. One night, during the YEAR it took to plan the wedding, HE came out to me. Said he' couldn't keep living the lie, hiding, not being honest with the person he had fallen in love with. He was living this horrible curse, and it was going to be hard for me to here... Preamble, long, painful for him winding up and when I was finally certain where he was going, I saved him the trouble.
"Look, I love you, and it doesn't matter what you've been hiding, because at this point I know and it's okay. I'm a girl, woman, I just have an excellent disguise."
We both started laughing. "You mean you know? You know and you still want to marry me?!?!?!?" he said in some shock.
We stayed up talking until day light, and we hatched our terrible plan.
We'd be ourselves with each other, and the people we were expected to be with everyone else.
Little did I know that meant he'd turn into my Dad.
For too long I put up with the mental, physical, verbal, emotional and sexual abuse because "If I just worked a bit harder, and was a really good girl, he'd love me, he'd hold me again, he'd cuddle and send me flowers. He'd be that guy I fell in love with and gave my heart, soul, mind and body to."
Yeah, pathetic. I know. But it was what I knew, it was the way I worked on the inside, it was that five year old girl wanting her Dad's approval and killing herself to try and get it. The more he abused me, the more I worked harder to be better... Women we knew wanted to have me cloned. Everyone around us thought I was the ultimate man, because Earl didn't have to ask for anything, I did for him, all the things I wanted and needed from him. I was being abused and ignorning it. Everyone knew I was being abused, AND STUPID in love.
Finally I asked him for something. That's when all hell broke loose. Things got significantly worse almost over night. I broke, and then again, and again... I'd been trying to get him into counseling for almost six years. His parents were also abusing me at the time. I was maneuvered into being totally dependant on, and controlled by Earl and his parents. He was terribly ill from stress and I was litterally keeping him alive while trying to get him to grow and help himself and work with me.
I hadn't been allowed to talk to most of my family or friends for years, and some had lost me all together. People who'd been at my wedding didn't know where I was.
I was existing. Barely. I wanted to die so the pain would be over. I lived in constant fear he'd kill me, or worse die one night while I was asleep... I started getting two hours of sleep a day. I was on call pretty much 24x7 so I "slept" with one eye open... We'd long since been sleeping in different bedrooms, but I was his "Beck and Callgirl" until I started to ask for something...
That's when it got really horrific...
(End Part one...)
posted by Samantha Shanti @ 5:36 PM
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