This has been an unusual morning for me. What began as another pointless argument with my mother actually turned into something worthwhile for the both of us. I've learned a lot about her today that I didn't realize before, and I've been shamed for it, I'll freely admit.

The important thing is, I learned she isn't clueless, as I once believed by her previous reactions. In the past I've tried to talk to her about my being transgendered, and it's resulted in some pretty upsetting responses. The thing is, she doesn't remember any of it.

She has been dealing for years, with medical issues that cause problems with her mood and her memory anyway. She speculated, when I finally told her exactly why I don't trust her, that she thinks she might have been scared, and lashing out from that.

She also admitted that, after going through Biology in college, she thinks there might be a chromosomal issue (i.e. that I might be intersexed). I stopped short of flat out telling her that I think I want to transition, but I DID finally tell her that a lot of my depression, my moodiness, all of it, goes hand in hand with my GID.

I'm going to get in touch with Margaret Cohen down in Little Rock. Mary didn't really work out (I don't think she fully understood what it was I was asking/why I was interested in therapy).

To put it to words, I'm simply tired. I'm tired of pretending to be someone I'm not, and I'm tired of fighting with my mom. When I was little, we were inseperable, but over the years, as we started to argue about my cross-dressing, I began to withdraw, and stopped talking to her. We've both grown over the years, and now I've finally been able to tell her why I felt I couldn't trust her, and she's apologized for it.

For what it's worth, I've apologized too. We're both at fault in a way, as I've known about her medical condition for awhile, but it never occured to me that she could literally not remember these arguments because of it, or that they could have been started because of her mood changes (To say nothing of her age and certain changes biological women go through).

In a way this sort of all came out because of my dog getting hurt. Amidst our stupid argument I finally broke down and yelled at her, that I was tired of trying to be strong for everyone, pretending to be something I'm not, because everyone else was in various states of freaking out. Dad was ready to bury him (assuming the worst), Mom couldn't stop worrying and blaming herself, and I had to be "the man" and "be strong".

Like I said in another post yesterday, I realized from this, that the only reason I fight who I am is for the sake of my family.

It's funny. Mom asked me, at one point while we were talking, how much of this was because I couldn't see, because I couldn't drive (in high school), couldn't have a "normal" life. I actually had a repressed memory return to me when I woke up this morning, before she even asked.

In the sixth grade, I and four boys were stuck inside for some reason. I don't even remember what we were doing (probably taking a test or something). They got this bright idea to play a practical joke on another boy. Now, at this age, my classmates had already begun feeling the effects of T just a little bit. They were, frankly, macho asses :-P

There was this broken chair in our classroom. You could stand it up and it would look sturdy, but the second you sat down you'd come crashing down. I thought I heard one of them laughing, as they set this chair up, about how he made someone break their jawbone doing this once before. So as soon as they left, I, the little 98lb no-muscle-to-speak-of girly boy decided to take it upon myself to help the guy they were going to prank.

I knew the guy. He was BIG for a sixth grader, and I don't mean fat. The kid was tall and muscular, and looked a lot older, and he was as mean as a snake, so I had no business helping him, but I felt sorry for him. So I swapped out the chair and went back to doing my homework.

They came back in, got him to sit, he looked at them like "What?" ... Then they all turned and glared at me. I came within an inch of getting the crap kicked out of me, but before they did, their ringleader demanded to know why I interfered, and I told them.

Turns out he actually said "Busted his tailbone". My mistake. They stomped away angry, and I didn't get beaten up. The other guy just walked out laughing without even a 'Thanks', but I didn't mind.

But I don't know of very many boys who would risk taking a severe beating to help a guy they didn't even like, just out of pure human empathy either.

Anyway, I need to get in touch with Margaret. No idea how I'll afford it, but I'll make it work somehow.

I'm thinking of moving to Little Rock at some point, maybe for the Fall semester so I can be near the UofA. I won't be doing so alone if I do. I'm going to get help.

We'll see what happens. Right now I can't even believe this has happened. I mean, I can't believe we finally had a talk that didn't end in an argument and me feeling I can't trust her.

Edeyn and Melanie, if you're reading this, I especially want to say 'thanks' to you both. Without you two, I would've never made it this far :-)

Love,
~Zoe