Listen up y’all.
Some people got a little bit upset with me over my last blog post because they felt like I made it seem like my parents were at fault for the difficulty that I experienced as a closeted transgender kid.
Let me make this abundantly clear: It was no one’s fault.
Not my parents. I’m sure they would have helped me if they had known, but I couldn’t even figure out how to tell them. Neither is it my fault, because few in those days were equipped with the language to talk about trans issues.
It really is nobody’s fault.
I struggled. Not as much as some, but I struggled for sure. Would I take that back?
Honestly, no. I actually wouldn’t change a single thing that has happened to me in the past 36 years, and I’ve been through some shit. I have chronic anxiety, I was in an abusive relationship, I tried to commit suicide. And all of that lead me to here, to the person I am now, and fuck, I love that guy. All that hard shit made that guy who he is, and I love him despite his flaws.
This blog isn’t even about the past, it’s about the future. It’s about the things that I’m excited about, the things that I dread, the things I’m not expecting. To get there, however, we need to take at least a cursory look at how I got here.
Sometimes shit happens and it’s nobody’s fault, it just happens.