there is a spaghetti bowl of information, realizations, and thoughts sprinkled with a heaping helping of regret, disappointment, despair, and sadness floating around in my brain.
before i go any further – yes, i am ok. this is not the ‘end of the world’ level of despair. i am well adjusted, and happy to be alive – and this blog does not change that. i felt i should say that, because i know what im going to be talking about on this website… people could read as a cry for help. and maybe it is a bit – but its more just my way to process what i guess could more accurately be described as grief.
so i guess im going to type out what i have hidden from the world, and even myself for large portions of my life……… im not 100% a man. not even really 50%. my body looks like one thanks to my mom and doctors not giving me a choice in the matter (you’ll read about later)… and somewhere in my head is a portion of one… but there is more inside. i guess i am what they now call ‘gender fluid’. at birth, i was something else. and i didnt learn about any of it until i was in my early teens. this is just the tip of the iceberg.
what i now know…
i was the result of an absorbed twin in the womb. i was born with a condition created or attributed to that, called PMDS. its overly complicated, and a ton of information i did not know until much later in life – but simply put, i was born with male genitalia, but also with a uterus, tubes, etc – essentially most of the female reproductive system, without the physical external. my external body appeared as a typical male. while my body was male – my brain and dna are not really male. if you held me to a spectrum, you would find me somewhere in the middle. it also seems to fluctuate in my brain… sometimes 30/70, sometimes 50/50 (but rarely).. .other times 20/80 – but female is always the dominant portion.
so lets start there. obviously, i was an infant – and while i did not know or have a say at the time – my mother (my dad was intentionally kept in the dark initially – the running theory from my grandmother was that my mom had planned to divorce him) made the decision that my life would be easier if my gender was determined by what i looked like outside – so all of my extra bits were surgically removed at a young age as there were some sort of complications (not fully clear but on what i was told, it was an infection of some sort). i cannot blame them for that decision they made. i wish they hadnt, but i know it was with the best of intentions. had things worked as planned, it would have made my life much easier. sadly…. it did not go according to their plan. and while i dont blame them for the start of it all… i do very much blame them (moreso my mother) for what transpired as i grew.
i did not know about this surgery. but i found out one summer in my preteen years at my grandmothers house. i spent a few weeks at my grandmothers house every summer. when my grandfather was alive, he would drive me all over the state to see landmarks, learn about our history, and basically just spend time with me. he was an amazing man, and taught me a lot. he passed away when i was very young and my grandmother was all we had left there.
my grandmother used to love to sit around the kitchen table and play all sorts of card games and talk. we were talking about a friend of mine that was going to have to have surgery and my youthful pondering about what surgery might be like, and asking a million silly questions. at the time… the moment was more fascinating than life altering – but once i realized the gravity of that moment – i committed it to memory… everything about it. where i sat at the table… the powell peralta shirt i had on… how much iced tea i had in my glass… the smell of the bbq we had just eaten.
i asked my grandmother if she had ever had surgery. she explained she had for minor things like her tonsils and appendix i think – then in a moment of forgetfulness, let the cat out of the bag that -I- had a surgery. this was news to me – i had no idea. so i started asking questions about it thinking it was really cool that once upon a time, i had surgery.
my grandmother realized very quickly what she had said and what it meant apparently as her demeanor changed faster than i could blink. my normally loving and cheerful grandmom flipped to stoic… almost concerned and upset…. and very quiet. i had never before, and never since, seen my grandmother with that look or seen her behave the way she did that day. it was a bit chilling. it warranted a preface from her that what she was going to tell me was not allowed to be repeated, but that she disagreed with not telling me – and thought i was old enough to know. she tried explaining it as generically as possible – with as little detail as possible – but i kept pressing for info with a million questions as i thought at the time that it was so cool that i had surgery!
to the best of my understanding – this was done quietly, paid for by my other grandfather (who had a track record of things like this), and my father was unaware of any sort of complications at the time. he was working in nigeria on oil rigs shortly before and after i was born for long periods at a time. that incident was the single one thing that turned my grandmother against my mom… she let it go, but from that point forward, she did not like, trust, or speak to my mother much. as my grandmother put it kindly – “thats the reason we don’t get along”. there was always animosity between the two of them, and that little bit of info filled in a lot of gaps for me. i remember christmas time at her house where everyone was so happy… but my mom would always be the one off to the side, and if there was a stern voice you heard, it was likely aimed at her. it also made me flash back to when my grandfather was alive. on a few of the trips, he would start to talk a bit more than he wanted, and some bits of wisdom would fly out that i wouldnt really comprehend at that particular age. one that stuck with me because it was so odd, was him telling me not to trust my mom.
grandmom told me everything and i asked questions until she was becoming unnerved and uneasy about them, but i got enough info to understand a tiny bit about it. i stated previously, and i honestly didnt think too much about it until later that evening and it occurred to me that maybe what she had just told me lined up with what i kept getting in trouble for. after some time to process it all…. dots started getting connected at a very rudimentary level – and as much as it could comprehend it at that young age and what tiny bit of info i had…. it really started to line up – like i had been given the ultimate missing puzzle piece to my life. the realization that the two were related, sent me into what i assume was a panic attack – i couldnt breathe, i couldnt stop crying. i remember thinking i was unable to breathe and just kept balling and gasping.
i remember my grandmother coming in as i guess she heard me crying. she tried to console me, assuming it was just a bad dream i had. i wish it was. i loved my grandmother… she was so sweet, and so caring – one of the few people in my life that i can say truly cared about me. she wasnt flawless… she did make some mistakes along the way – but she always had the best intentions, and did so from a place of love.
even before this event… we were forced to grow up fast. our lives were a living hell on earth. physical abuse, mental abuse, constant beratement… those were daily occurrences. my father didnt participate too much in the abuse, but he played his part, and was far from innocent. my mother….. she is evil incarnate.
as you read, you may think to yourself “seems a bit mature to be thinking/doing that at that age” – and you would likely be right. part of that is that i am reflecting and its an interjection of thought and interpreting it in hindsight…. but, it is still very much true. we had to grow up fast. it was forced on us. you find when you are defending your life at less than 10 years old… you are forced to accelerate your growth and think about things you should not have to worry with at such a young age. you have to start thinking about things most children never do…. like how am i going to care for myself? i am alone in this – how am i going to deal with it? how am i going to keep this woman from killing me?