Parents passed away some time ago without making any final peace with me. What can be expected of a father who was born at the time of the Wright Brother’s flight and a mother whose father was wounded in World War One? See, I’m still making excuses for them. They were Victorians and had a family quite late for reasons I won’t go into here.
My father went first. Years later my mother. It was only after her death that the family healed almost completely and the hatchet was buried for good. The family had scattered and the siblings wanted nothing to do with the parents and I heard how much they despised the parents, which set me aback. I heard a lot of behind the scenes stuff. One said of my difficulties, “It was the elephant in the room. It was so obvious!” And here I thought I had them all fooled I was a boy. Back to acting school for me!
I heard how they had pleaded for my mother (my father had passed away) to lighten up and think about someone else besides herself. I heard through her my siblings hated me. They heard through her that I hated them.
And so it is over. A Pyrrhic Victory all around. The irony was that I believe I had no choice in the matter. My brained was wired as it was wired. But they were scared and filled with shame that they would have a variant (deviant?) child. They could only be happy if I did not transition. I could only be happy if I did.
A cis friend advised me in words I will never forget as I struggled to make everyone else happy, “Your primary contract is to yourself.” I could not change the fundamental self. There was only one outcome. It just took me longer than I wished to transition, which fully knew I wanted to do at 15. I guess I had to wait a little longer until there were surgeries available to do that.
Start at minute 15:00 and see my doctor (Norman Spack) who helped me some years ago, explain how this works in young kids. It's a shaggy dog story how I was one of his oldest “pediatric” patients, but he is a mensch.