Well this is gonna be hella depressing, so I’m putting a read more up for the sake of my followers.

The hardest part was all of it.

First I had to come to terms with it myself. I was raised in a homophobic household with a family that never uttered the word transgender nor wanted me to know it. I was so confused and ended up being homophobic and transphobic out of fear that I was queer.

Then coming out to my friends. This was one of the easier parts. My closest friends embraced me with open arms, and I couldn’t be more grateful for their support. My less close friends were confused… but still wanted me to know I was still loved and their friend. Only one friend had a bad reaction. That was a nightmare.

He was my first partner, and we had a weird sort of relationship for three years before I dumped him, but we were on decent terms.

I told him discreetly at lunch one day.

He blurted out,

“So you’ve been lying this whole time to me?”

I was taken aback. I asked what he meant.

“Well, if you’re really a guy you’ve been dressing up as a girl? You were born as a guy?”

I tried to explain I wasn’t born as a girl in the traditional sense, and it turned into a hectic back and forth in which he proceeded to tell me I’m crazy and he did so quite loudly in the lunchroom.

That was fun…

Then, in February of 2013, I came out to my parents.

I planned to tell them, and I mustered the courage to do so.

I ended up freaking and having a panic attack, but I told them when I was coming down from it.

At first they were confused and didn’t understand. I clarified.

I will never forget their faces when I told them.

I will NEVER forget the disappointment, confusion, and horror mixed across their faces. My mom started to cry. My dad was turning red in the face.

They scolded me, telling me I can’t tell anyone what I thought I was, emphasizing “thought”.

The next year was a nightmare with them. An absolute nightmare.

Two suicide attempts and a year and a half of psych meds later, my parents gave a sort of acceptance? Still disappointed and frustrated, they gave in to calling me my preferred name…. or at least trying.

It’s kind of sad that I’m grateful my dad calls me Jack 20% of the time.

Or that my mom said she can never call me Jack, but she’ll try to call me Jax.

It’s kind of sad that I’m not totally out yet moreso because my parents forbid me to be. And that I’m so desperate for their acceptance that a small drop of it is the world to me.

I’m not fully out yet.

Shit’s complicated.