Queer Writes Project

It probably wasn’t until my first year in high school that I accepted the fact that I was bisexual.  In my middle school years, I wasn’t sure how to handle it, forcing myself to say I liked boys and only boys because that’s who I was supposed to like, and to be honest I wasn’t happy with that. I hadn’t really gotten any attention from any guy at that point  My bestfriend Paige, who had come out as bisexual, ended up going to a different high school, so I thought I was to brave it on my own.  I knew Paige wouldn’t have a problem; she was pretty, she’d have plenty of boyfriends, and I was her best friend who was pretty much invisible to guys in our age group.  It took me a while, but I started to make my own friends, beginning to get comfortable around them, but I still couldn’t tell them that I was bi. I started to go to a church down the street from me, getting involved in the youth group. I was accepted and loved there, and it felt good, but I still felt like I couldn’t tell anyone.  Throughout high school I had one boyfriend, and after dating for some time I found out he didn’t actually like me, awesome.  After going through the healing process I told some of my closest friends that I was bisexual, and they supported me.  When a friend of mine introduced me to Tumblr, I was borderline ecstatic.  I could meet other bisexuals and lesbians all around the world, and maybe find someone in my area to date! I was really shy and I thought since I didn’t mind talking to people on the internet, and I was so shy in person, meeting a potential girlfriend on the internet would be easier.  But then it hit me, I still hadn’t come out to my parents.  I wasn’t worried about telling my siblings, it was my parents I was worried about. There I was, 20 years old and scared to death to tell her parents that I was bisexual.  Another year passed and I didn’t think much of it, I was talking to people and I was beginning to get comfortable outside of my comfort zone, and I began to realize that I was pansexual, gender didn’t really matter when it came to people that I was attracted to. That’s when the coming out panic returned, I wanted to tell them but I didn’t know how. My friends supported me, they said they were there for me when I was going to tell them, which made me feel better

And then there was this girl…

I met Eve over Tumblr, and we started to talk to each other on Facebook, and she actually lived in the same area as me, woot!  We met up one night at the movies, and afterwards she kissed me, and thats when I knew I had to tell them. That one kiss changed me, I was assured and confident in my sexuality, and I was ready to tell them. Did I tell them right away? Hell no! I took my time, planning how I was going to bring it up…Is there a pamphlet for that? I wished there was. 2 weeks into me and Eve  dating, I wanted my family to know that we were dating. I wanted to be with her and not have to hide it. My sister knew, she accepted me and she told me it would be easy to tell my mom, but wasn’t so sure about my dad.  One day I went up to my mom and said ‘Hey mom, I’m gay and me and Eve are dating’ just like that. No beating around the bush. And she replied with ‘Okay, you’re bisexual just because you hadn’t gotten any attention from a boy, thats okay’ I guess she’s still trying to hold out that I’m going to marry a guy and have her grandkids, at that point I didn’t want to argue, I was just happy I told her. I didn’t outright come out to my dad, I just assume he knows.

Don’t  be afraid to say anything. I found out I wasn’t alone, no one is alone going through this. My name is Kristen, I’m 22 years old from Fort Lauderdale, Florida. I’m pansexual and I have the most wonderful girlfriend in the world, and I’m so happy.

Reading through all these posts has made me realise something I wish I’d had whist I was coming out. I am not alone. I’ve known this for some time now, but it’s easy to forget in the grand scheme of things. Especially when you’re surrounded with societies heteronormative ideals on a daily basis. 

I’ve known for as long as I can remember that I liked girls. What I didn’t know was that there was a name for it - Gay. At that time I didn’t know what being gay was. Heck, I didn’t know what gay was. I had no idea that anyone else like me existed. All I knew was that I believed I wasn’t ‘normal’. I would lie there at night staring up at the ceiling feeling upset and alone. Wondering what I’d done wrong. Why wasn’t I like everyone else? I guess that’s what you want when you’re twelve or thirteen? You look to those around you - your peers - to help confirm who you yourself are as a person. I wasn’t mirrored in those around me. I looked and looked and looked, but I never saw. 

I remember the first time I did see. I was fourteen. I remember feeling on top of the world. I’d met this girl and she was like me. It took a short while but gradually I began to feel happier. My self-confidence was back, and it felt great. There was just one problem. Even though I felt happy I knew deep down that I couldn’t tell my parents. I don’t even know why. They’re not religious, they’re lovely and they’d never made any comments about anything ‘gay’ related. Come to think of it, knowing they’d never said anything that I could relate to in this way is probably what scared me off mentioning anything. That and the fact I’d never mentioned ‘boyfriends’ I’d had. So what was the difference? According to me there was none. However, according to my friends there was everything.

And that’s where it all began. My coming out story wasn’t even mine. My friends had decided they’d better tell their parents about me and J. To this day I still don’t know exactly why. I’ve heard that they were ‘worried about me’. But little did they know what they’d started - a pretty crappy chain of events. I felt like my recently found security blanket had been pulled from under me. I denied everything to my parents for a month but it seemed luck just wasn’t on my side. My Dads friend – a cabby – saw me kissing J goodbye in a bus stop one night and immediately pulled over and informed my now mortified parents.

My Mum would frantically check my phone at night before deciding I wasn’t allowed to keep it in my room. I would have to lie and say I was going to see friends if I wanted to see my girlfriend. I felt like I was being forced to become something I wasn’t, and I wasn’t about to let it happen.

The one thing my parents had always told me was that I should always be myself and I should never let anyone stand in the way of my happiness. It just now seemed that there were rules to this advice. Heterosexual rules. Why wasn’t I allowed to be with this girl if she made me happy?

Eventually our parents met and we were given a set of strict rules. No public displays of affection. No mentioning of our relationship anywhere on the Internet. No mentioning of our relationship anywhere at all. We would grow out of this and nobody would be any the wiser.

Seven years later and everyone’s the wiser. I never backed down and I never let anyone else control my happiness. Having had conversations with my parents about everything it seems they’re sticking by a ‘we were trying to protect you’ story. My Mum still has issues with the word lesbian, but my parents have become a lot more supportive. My always-supportive fifteen year old brother now shouts down anyone who uses the word ‘gay’ in a derogatory way and so do a lot of his friends.

I wish my parents had understood that instead of protecting me they were in fact isolating me. I didn’t need saving. And at a time when I needed them most, they weren’t there. However, pushing all of this aside – I am happy. And most importantly in my happiness I now know that I am not alone.
 

Submitted by http://lezcapades.tumblr.com/

Since I was a little girl, I’d been attracted to women. No one believes me when I tell them that. They say “you can’t be born gay,” or “something must’ve happened to you when you were young.” But no. I’ve been this way for as long as I can possibly remember. At the age of 14 I had my first girlfriend. My family still hadn’t known that I was gay. She and I didn’t last very long. She couldn’t put up with the teasing at school, and she didn’t want to break her family’s heart. One day, she had written me a note in class, telling me that we needed to talk. Instead of talking to me after class, or after school, she had broken up with me right there in my Algebra class. About a week later, I decided to go out with some friends. When I came back home, I realized that someone had picked up my bedroom. Shortly after, my mother had called me into her and my father’s room. Awkward silence passed by after what felt like a lifetime.

“Are- are there rumors going around that you’re bi?” my father asked. I said yes, “there are rumors.”

“They are just rumors aren’t they? They aren’t true.”
Once again, I said yes. My mother wouldn’t even look at me. I knew that she knew something. Suddenly, she threw a folded piece of paper at me and exclaimed, “What is this, then?” It was the note that she had broken up with me in. My mother had snooped through my belonging’s and read that note. They kept telling me it was just a phase, they kept telling me that it’s not true, that I like boys, that this is not who their daughter really is. My mother started to cry. I had to lie. I had to tell them that they were right, even though they were all wrong. She wouldn’t look me in the eye, or hardly even talk to me for days.
Two years later it was proven to them. I kept dating girls. Arguments would carry on night after night sometimes. Eventually they realized, this is who I am. And there’s nothing they could possibly do to change me. They don’t approve. They still wish I would marry a man, and sometimes even push it on me. But they’ve become more accepting of me. They are happy that I’m happy.

It’s hard at first, coming out. It’s not fun to keep that secret buried inside you, to date people you’re really not happy with. But in the end, after most of the tension’s settled, you’re much happier than you ever could have thought. It gets better.

My girlfriend Jessica and I have been together for 4 months now. My parents and siblings love her almost as much as I do.

Before I could even fathom that I was transgender, I thought I was gay.  I was sure of this by the time I was twelve. I was more than ready to come out to my parents, family, and friends and to my teachers.  Unfortunately, it never happened. I never came out in middle school or high school for that matter, because of what happened to me when I was 12.

I had a strong desire to be a girl.  Unfortunately, the only way I could was sexually. When I was 12, I would come home every day after school and take a shower.  That was my poor excuse to play with myself.  Each time, I was disgusted with my penis.  The first time I masturbated I didn’t bother jacking off.  I instinctively tucked (an ability that was easier at the time) and I would proceed to “penetrate” myself with anything I perceived as penis-shaped: Shampoo bottles, hairspray cans, cucumbers, bananas, you-name-it.  

Eventually my mom noticed. The first time my mom found out she asked if I knew anything about a hairspray she had found in the shower. I lied and blamed it on my sister.  I became more vigilant after that to make sure to never forget a hairspray can in the shower again.  

One day, before I left for school, my mom told me we needed to have a long talk when I got home.  I knew she found it a second time and I was nervous that whole day.  I had been anticipating this moment every night.  I dreamed about coming out and everyone accepting me.  I struggled with my religion (at the time I wasn’t atheist) and overcoming the duty of impregnating a woman and giving my parents a grandson to continue on the family line but I overcame all that.  I was ready to come out.  

At school, I was preparing myself mentally.  My dad was always the disciplinary one. My mom would always calm my father down when he would spank me. I thought my mom would be the one to still love me and convince my dad to not beat me senseless for being gay.  Then the next day I would come out at school too. No more secrets and no more hiding.

When I came home that day, my mother called me to her room upstairs. Immediately when I entered her room she started yelling and cursing at me.  My dad is notorious for having a temper among our family.  My mom was angrier than my dad ever was that day.  Her eyes would not stop staring at me and whenever I tried to avoid contact she would point at me to listen.  She asked me if I knew what I had done.  She was mad because I had devastated my father because I would no longer bring him a grandson.  She asked me what I used the hairspray can for. She asked if I would put it between my legs and fuck myself like a girl. She looked at me with disgust. Somehow she knew.  Somehow she must have seen me while masturbating.  I still don’t know to this day if she did.  I don’t want to ask.  

My father arrived home shortly.  He didn’t even look at me when he walked into the room. He was crying.  He was crying more than when my grandpa had died.  He looked sadder than the day of his funeral.  I felt I had murdered someone.  For the first time in my life, my mom was angry and my dad was crying.  I had hurt my father simply for being myself. They kept asking me if I was gay.  But I was so terrified of their faces to even say yes.

I panicked and lied. I said some kids at school showed me how to get high off hairspray. They believed it and calmed down. Now they were concerned I was doing drugs.  After it ended I was still in the closet and more confused than ever.  I never came out the next day at school either.  I became reclusive, quite, confused, and homophobic.  

To this day, I still don’t know who to blame: myself for not having the courage to admit who I was, or my parents for suppressing me.  I learned to never trust my parents again.  I learned that I could be a pot-head or druggie, just God forbid I was gay because my parents wouldn’t love me if I were gay.

Yes, my entire story is about being silenced. It’s a testament on why parents shouldn’t suppress their children and how fucked up it makes us.  It’s about struggling to be heard. I’ve decided that no matter what, for the second part of my life, that I will be heard.

submitted by http://elinkors.tumblr.com/

Telling my Mother I was a “lesbian” was easy, I knew My mother would love me no matter what, I was 14 and cruel.

She asked me softly if I was pregnant (I was becomming alittle chubby) Outraged I scoffed “Don’t be SILLY you have to have sex with BOYS to get pregnant and I only like GIRLS” and our conversation dropped to awkward silence.

Years later I have to tell her that I’m persuing Gender Transistion, I want to live as a Man … And I know my Mother will love me, No matter what. But I’m 27 and filled with long silent shame.

I can’t find the words and stand infront of her crying and afraid … It was so hard to say… she drags the truth out of me and hugs me and tells me “Don’t be SILLY I’m your Mummy, you know I will Love you no matter what”

Telling My family was such a relief, My family is very important to me … here’s a picture of me with My Step Dad and Best Mate, I’m on the left. My Friends and Family will allways stand beside me NO MATTER WHAT!

          This post is about one tiny aspect of my identity and life. I’m a queer girl, just about to graduate high school.  I’m not sure yet where I sit on the romantic and sexual spectrums, but I identify as gray-ace, which for me means that I don’t want to have sex, and I’m really unsure if I’m actually sexually attracted to anyone. I find people of any gender/gender expression to be aesthetically attractive, and experience sensual attraction as well (“I just want to cuddle you and touch your faaaace”). As for romantic attraction, I seem to be demiromantic, which is an identity so small and invisible that it hardly has a definition. The most widely accepted definition is “experiencing romantic attraction to people to whom you are emotionally connected.” I tend to fall for my best friends.

Now, a lot has been written on the term ‘friend-zoning’ and why it’s unfair to women. When I first heard the word, I was speechless, actually. I only crush on friends. If you’re my friend, you’re one step closer to being in a romantic relationship with me. I seriously don’t understand how people date. It’s alien to me. I get to know people as friends first, and get crushes later.

I want to talk about my relationship with my ladyfriend. A few years ago, she proposed to me with a twist-tie ring, and I accepted; more recently, we’ve used “fiancée” as our label for each other. “Friends” lacks nuance. “Girlfriends” implies romance and sex. “Zucchini” is incomprehensible to the general public, and also an icky vegetable. It’s important to us that we don’t appear to be heterosexual best friends, because we’re so much more than that. We’re pretty fiercely affectionate in public. If I had to explain our relationship, I’d say it’s a queerplatonic, borderline-romantic, epic codependent tangle. We go on dates and take turns paying, we plan for the future, we watch romantic movies and hold hands, we email each other porn, for god’s sake (whoa tmi sorry). For me, that is pretty much as sexual as I’m going to be with another person. I find this hilarious.

Sometimes I junt to reach over and kiss her, and I really don’t know if this is an extension of our cuddling and hugging, or evidence of romantic attraction, and honestly, I don’t think it matters. As much as I want to pick every emotion apart and analyze it and label it, I think I can let this relationship speak for itself. What I feel towards her is love and  connection and kinship and dependency and admist waration, and a little bit of what most people seem to describe as romance. 

As I type this, I’m thinking about how today was so lovely, and how the trees down 32nd street are in bloom, and how much I love her and how lucky I am that she feels similarly about me. I’m hoping that this relationship will last through college, that we can actually get an apartment and maybe a publishing company and maybe a house filled with books, because we’re just idealistic enough to follow through with that plan. I’m hoping that in twenty, forty, eighty years I’ll turn my head and she’ll be there.

submitted by http://civilwarlock.tumblr.com/

every since i was in like 7th grade my dad has know there was something “up” with me, so like every month id be minding my own business and my dad would come out of nowhere and say stuff like “i know, youre not fooling anybody” and “i love you, no matter what” and “as long as youre happy” and id always be like “what are you talking about?” denying it… then in 8th grade he started saying stuff like “i cant wait to see you when you grow up with your boyfriend, girlfriend, boyfriend, girl, girlfriend?” and still i acted like i didnt know what he was talking about. he was SO consistent lol…. in 9th grade i lived with my mom so there wasnt really anything he could say to me… in 10th grade i moved back with him, then like in october or september, he was in the livingroom and this is exactly how it went

me: hey dad

dad: what?

me: im gay

dad: okay

there wasnt really any huge change in anything, actually the only change there was after i came out to him is that now he likes to make gay jokes, my dad thinks hes funny lol :)

http://carinecarinecarine.tumblr.com

Being gay is unique, it’s a journey which not many people get to experience. As old fashioned traditional values (1 mother 1 father, marriage before kids) start to die there is a lot more acceptance of gay and lesbian rights such as marriage and adoption. People are finally starting to understand that it’s not a choice and it’s not something which should be judged but merely something that makes someone more unique. It’s no different to eye colour, gender, race, build. It’s because of these reasons that I found the strength to come out.

When I first realised that I liked girls I was 12 years old. I had a huge crush on a friend. At first I thought it was admiration, that all girls went through it, that it was just me finding someone who I really clicked with. Months passed by and as our friendship got stronger, my feelings started getting stronger. I had no idea what was happening to me all I knew is that It wasn’t normal any more and that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. Our friendship was almost like a relationship, doing everything that a relationship would do apart from we labelled it ‘best friends’ which was a load of rubbish. We started arguing very regularly and I was constantly distraught and found myself crying and neglecting my school work. I was a real mess and the problem was that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it so nobody could understand why I was so upset. When I reached age 15 I had been through 3 years of pain and simply couldn’t go through it anymore. I called off the friendship and just in time somehow managed to get myself a decent set of GCSE’s even during heartbreak.

I still refused to believe that I was gay. She’s the exception I said. I still like boys I said. 2 years went by where I saw quite a few boys and it just felt like I was going through the stages. I felt no emotion, no connection, no passion…nothing. I loved the boys but simply as friends. It was when I was 16 and sat in my IT class at college where I was doing a mock exam paper but I was distracted and felt my eyes glide across the room. My eyes fixated on a poster in front of me. It was from the college LGBT group. On the poster it said things such as “Accepting your sexuality” and “Confronting the denial” and “You’re not alone” It was that moment where I leant back on my chair, put my head in my hands and said to myself “Oh fuck…I’m gay”

After that moment, things started becoming a lot clearer for me. Feelings were more justified, but I still hadn’t told anyone. There was such a strong stereotype about butch lesbians that I felt like I didn’t have my place. I started researching on the internet and it gave me answer to my questions and fears. Where I’m an only child I’ve always been worried about what people think of me, I’m not used to confrontation or difference in opinion so I thought that everyone would judge me and treat me differently. I thought I’d never be able to come out. It took me another year to build up the courage to tell my best friend Faye. We were sat in the park having a picnic when I told her I was ‘Bisexual’ which I knew was a lie but I felt like like it was easier to cross the ‘bisexual bridge’ than to come out straight away as a lesbian. She was surprised but incredibly supportive and it gave me an ounce of hope for the next few months. I was 18 now and I wanted to progress more. I joined Tumblr and started speaking to people all over the world who had been through what I had been through and who were better off at the end. I talked to feminine lesbians which helped me personally kill the lesbian stereotypes of all lesbians being butch. I felt like what I was feeling wasn’t wrong and that it was justified and I was allowed to feel this way.

Still nobody knew I was a lesbian. In October 2011 I told my other best friend Abbie that I was in fact a lesbian. She was relieved more than anything as she thought I’d been tense, anxious and upset for more serious reasons. She said that she’d help me through it all and this is around the period of time where I told Faye I wasn’t bisexual but a lesbian. They both were the support I needed to get through the rest of the coming out process. Christmas was quiet and I was busy with coursework so I didn’t have time to tackle my sexuality further. I remained in contact with other lesbians and bisexual girls on Tumblr to help me not feel so alone. I saw all of my friends get in relationships with boys and I started to yearn for the same but with a girl. When we went out I’d often get upset about still being in the closet and Faye would always have to give me pep talks to help me feel not so alone and one day Abbie and I were sitting outside of a club and we were playing a card game. She said “Carine, you’re going to come out this year” I quickly hushed her in case anybody heard and said “haha I wish” 1 month later in February 2012 I had a dream where I had a girlfriend and woke up to the reality that this could never happen if I was in the closet. All of a sudden something clicked. I’m going to university at the end of this year and I can’t go on getting upset whenever I’m drunk because I’m not out of the closet. University is a time to have a fresh start and I wanted to be ready for that. For me I believed the first stop was to tell my parents. Now as I’m an only child my Mum always wanted me to get married and have lots of kids. As she’s half French she had this dream of me marrying a French politician so she could have debates with and the fact that I had to break this to her was something I was not looking forward to. I had planned to write a long letter to my parents explaining everything and asking for them to accept me. I had planned it to be this way so that I didn’t have to confront them face to face but 1 week later, bottling it up after 5 years became too much and I broke down to my Dad telling him everything. He was shocked, but supportive and he said that he still loved me and was proud of me. He then went on to tell my two days later. She was surprisingly supportive and wanted me to experiment to see if my feelings were justified. But she mentioned again and again and again and again her need for grandchildren haha (no pressure). That night was the night before Valentines Day and my friends and I went out for a night out. After having a few too many drinks and knowing that my parents now knew the truth I was more confident than usual. One of my friends who was a guy had a crush on me and he had already gotten in a fight for me that night keeping another guy away from trying it on with me. When it struck valentines day he declared his feelings for me and as I’d had too many drinks I told him straight up that I was gay, we had a huge argument which involved me screaming ”I’m gay” multiple times As I turned round all of my friends were stood around in shock.

Word soon got out at my recent outburst and rumours started flying around friendship groups. People were immature, they though that me being gay somehow affected them in their lives. They thought it was okay to spread around something so personal about me. I found out it had got to a group of girls who I didn’t even know that well and that it was spreading further. Since when has being gay been such a huge gossip I said to myself. I found the whole period extremely difficult knowing that everyone was talking about me. Throughout this difficult period I could feel myself gathering more and more strength. I was gay, there was nothing I could do about it and these people are very sad for making it the headline of their current month. I started confronting everyone one by one. “Yes, I’m gay” the rumours died down and everyone started accepting it. Some people found out from my Tumblr blog because I’m very open on there. What I don’t understand is why people would lurk on my blog and then spread around what they saw. Why were they on my private blog in the first place? What gave them the right to tell everyone? It’s then where I realised that I was hanging around the wrong people. Later I told my other group of friends who were completely different. This group was made up of a couple of friends from school and some lads who I’d been friends with for a few years. They were so mature and so accepting and supportive and wee had banter about it straight away. None of them treated it as a taboo nor did they treat me any differently. This was the group of friends who truly accepted me. The months went on and I told more and more people including those from work and I got to a state of happiness. No I wasn’t in a relationship, nor were people closing their mouths about me but I didn’t care. Everyone I wanted to know knew. The ones I cared about were so supportive. Being very feminine myself I had helped kill stereotypes of lesbians to people who had heard. I started telling people at work of who had mature responses. Lots of drama surrounded me coming out but through the hardest period of my life which was coming out I am so much happier after it. It’s hard but it’s been character building. I’ve felt myself get stronger, maturer and I’ve become open minded to anything. I no longer care what people say about me because the ones I love, love and accept me back and Faye and Abbie have helped steer me through all of it. I’m no longer in the closet and I’m no longer bottling things up. I’m now ready to go off to University saying “Hi I’m Carine, I’m 19, I’m studying Business, I like dresses, make up, XBOX, Foo Fighters and I’m a Lesbian.” (not that any of that should change peoples perceptions of me ;))

http://carinecarinecarine.tumblr.com

 There was this monotone expectation in my early years of a child. I was very interested in the male parts when I was growing up. It wasn’t unexpected though during this age- I was going through a common phase called Penis Envy. I wanted one, I wanted to be a boy and I should have been a boy. The part of my youth that I wanted to be a boy I was very close to a mute religion that I didn’t understand anything about besides what my parents told me. If you pray you get what you want. So- I did. I prayed, and prayed, every night I would pray to wake up one day with a penis. I would cry myself to sleep for a part of the night, and wake up in the morning to be truly disappointed. This caused plenty problems with my mind. They wouldn’t be expressed until my later years.

                3 years had passed and my first suicide attempt had come across. I felt so out of place from my peers. I didn’t want to sit with the girls, I didn’t want to be a girl and I was just as ‘boyish’ as I could get at that age. But it wasn’t good enough- I tried to take my life in those years of first/second grade.  I was not aware of ‘dying’ though- I only cut myself with a safety pen- just enough to look like a domestic animal paw scratch. I begged that I die that night writing a note even to my parents placing it under their bed to hope they understood why I killed myself. I did not die that night, nor was there any hope for the future after this.

 I finally turned 9 when I gave up the false religion. I never woke with a penis; I never woke with a boy’s body. I was so upset by this I began hurting myself as much as I could.

Turning 10 was a realization that there could be some sort of hope, I created a persona that  I would follow- though just saying I would. His name was Eric and he was the perfect person. I wanted to be him so bad but I pretended instead. I would lie my way into what I wanted online- and even when I sat alone in my room I would be happy as ‘Eric’. Somewhere in this time I began smoking.

Transgenderism was a blind art until the age of 13. I can’t recall how I came across such a thing- TV maybe, it could have been ‘The Real World’…I can’t say. Though when I realized you could get surgery to become someone else I was only more excited. Eric became a person now he was me. Though only online where my mask was high up and no one could see the real me. I was attacked those years though- being caught as a ‘liar’ ‘fake’. People insisted I killed myself and of course I did. I downed a whole bottle of pain killers- I woke up a day after perfectly fine. It made me sick to know that something wouldn’t allow me to be dead.

I told my parents finally who I was on December 24, 2010. We were in public eating dinner and I just couldn’t stomach to wait. My mom was disgusted with me and I left the building crying. That night I felt nothing and once again tried to end my life. For the next five days I would be vomiting everything that touched my lips, water, food. Anything.

From 2011-2012 I quit my job, got a new one, got fired, went back to old one, and quit again. My depression, anxiety and other disorders were seriously getting out of hand. I bought a binder in that year of 2011- I wore it once before it cut a huge gash in my back. My mother stole it, cut it up and returned it six months later.

December 2011 I began doing therapy for my depression. I told my therapist and she seemed to reasonably accept me. She does not know in the year 2011 I attempted suicide 10 times, went to the hospital 3 times. In 2011 I swallowed somewhere over 600 pain killers, 100 sleeping pills, and destroyed my body over 30 times.

I’ve had mild panic attacks my whole life, but since I’ve been denied help for being trans and my mother refusing to accept me I have serious panic attacks which almost appear I’m seizing. I’ve been clean from cutting for a little over 3 weeks as of 5/19/2012. My arm isn’t near as bad as some- but I’ve had close attempts to needing to get stitches.

Where I stand today- I always feel sick, I have an eating disorder, I’m I have major depression, anxiety, I have a tick and other possible disorders. I’m a daily smoker of cigarettes and I don’t believe anytime soon will that stop.  I can’t get a job due to my anxiety and I hate everything.

Granted my life has been a major struggle for me- I sometimes don’t think I’d want it to be different. Because granted I feel like I could always give up, I’m hopeless, there is hope somewhere. One day I’ll truly be Eric and no one will ever be able to stop me. I’m looking for a future and I do hope to see it one day. I hope that I won’t give up anytime soon anymore because I’m so close to being happy and I’m so weak. 

I’m a female to male transgender man who can’t tell what the hell I am. One day I’ll know and I’ll be happy. Today might not be the day but I have thousands of days ahead of me. 

-Eric Vannoy

She said

“Some people will never understand the kind of superpower

it takes for some people to just walk outside”

and some people will never understand the stregnth it takes

to walk out they’re own Closet doors.

Some parents will never understand the lies we hide.

It’s on the tip of my tongue.

I want to be able to shout

Mom! I’m Transgender!.

and i wanted to hear you to say i know, and that’s ok.

instead you parade me.. 

You are a Girl! You are a Girl

you are my daughter!

No I’m Not. While you spend time hoping

for the make-up, the halter tops, my first boy friend

My first male prom date, My first…

Prom dress, in all its beauty

I look in a mirror hating everything i am.

I press my hands against my chest praying, 

that these lumps beneath my hands, would just fade away…

be… cut away. 

I’ve spent the Past 4 years muting the sound of Velcro every time I get dressed.

Avoiding Mirrors until I’m fully clothed

Painting a facade on my body every morning at 5 am on a School day.

binding till i cant breath, wearing t-shirts and swim trunks to the pool

Afraid of packing because then, everyone would know my big secret

Afraid of being figured out.

Afraid that I’ll be beat up, bullied, and just afraid.

Scared to transition, but, Wanting to so bad.

Waiting till the day my sister can call me her older brother,

 Afraid that I’ll loose everything like they did.

I sleep in binders, scared of seeing these lumps the call breasts beneath my chin,

Boxers to reassure myself that something will appear there when i wake up

praying that everything that’s not supposed to be there would go away

with out the need to sit in a psychologists office explaining to them why you feel the way you feel,

so they can ask you…”Are you sure your not lesbian?” “are you afraid of the “L Word’”

No I’m not afraid of the “L Word” because I’m not female.

I’m Not a girl. I’ve sat here my whole life standing in front of a mirror

Hoping that this pathological lie i call, you call, we call my body

would just be fixed to the way it should be.

to sit in the office of my family doctor explaining how who i am is not a Disorder, but

Misplaced. Mislaid. lost mid-delivery on my way to my original body.

Begging for someone to see, that I’m scared of transitioning.

Because i fear I’ll loose everything.

She asked me why I bind my breasts so tight.

I couldn’t really answer her. But I guess it’s the only thing that keeps me from falling.

I make a wish every night that someone would hold me up, but…

It never happens.

I’m filled with Hellos, and goodbyes.

I’d stand there praying she’ll just be quiet and see the pain in my eyes.

Truth is I’m just another guy that Requires assembly.

        I guess I’ll start from when I got outed. Back when I was in high school I never really came out, I was just… Kane the gay kid. I wasn’t really bothered, i got bullied like fuck, but that’s what you expect when you live in such a backwards world, rumours went around and everybody knew. Then the head of my year overheard about it all and decided to call in my mum. I was made to stand outside the office when they were talking, so I cupped my ear to the door and listened in, all I heard was “I think your son is gay.” My heart dropped. This ass-hole had actually just outed me to my mum. I felt hurt and knew I wasn’t ready to tell her. After that he got the sack, thankfully. My mum told my dad, my dad told me i was too young to decide and it was just a phase. After that my dad would always bring it up in arguments and always point it out. I was always a feminine person and always dressed in girls clothes, had long hair and whatnot, but then another problem occurred. I realised that I wasn’t gay. I was trans. I felt like a woman. I hated knowing I was going to be judged as more of a freak than I was treated originally if people knew, so I cut all my hair off in some sort of rage, threw away all my clothes, threw all my makeup away, started wearing my brother’s clothes, went into a major depression, and would cry for days. I finally got the courage to tell my best friend about the issue, and all he said was “Kane I know you’re a girl, stop hating yourself and embrace it.” He was right though.

        so eventually I started talking to my nan about it (we talk about everything) and she even helped me think of a name (She liked izzy and so did I! :D), gave me all the advice we could of had, everything, I’d realised that what I’d done was a huge mistake and that nobody really cared that i’m trans. So I carried on with life,now my college group know, and love the fact, that i’m trans, and they all treat me like one of their sisters, my parents love me for who I am, and I couldn’t be happier, the conclusion? It gets better. I might of not had the worst life, but in my opinion it was pretty difficult, but right now, even though i still get abuse shouted at me on the street, I really don’t care. I’m happy with my life, and no matter what you do, you should be happy with yours too. :)