How Long Is a Day In The Dark

Hello, before I begin I’d like to say thank you for taking your time reading this. It’s a long story and I’m afraid that there will be more negative elements than good but I’m working on that. I’ve come here for a last attempt for finding hope, as I have lost mine. Maybe writing my story there will be someone out there who really understands. But I must warn you, this is a cautionary tale so please keep an open mind. I really need some help with being completely overwhelmed. What would you do?  

Where do you begin when you decide writing your life story, I think to myself “Where did mine begin?” Can we as human really know when we’re alive, besides knowing that we’re born? What force does it take for you to feel alive, is it family, our accomplishments, or is it love? If there is such a thing.  

From early childhood I knew there was something different about me, I didn’t fit in with my peers and siblings, there was nothing I did that was considered normal for a boy. I was always with the girls playing with them as one of their own, not noticing any difference only but one…I was a boy…and I knew that wasn’t right. As you could imagine a particular case like so would be teased throughout school, and I was, even at home my family shunned me for years on my fathers side. My mother thankfully was the most supportive growing up, she had her down sides as well… My parents decided a Psychologist opinion would give them answers so they did, but when they finally had them, it was something they couldn’t conceive for a long time. I remember that day when the therapist informed my parents that Im“Transgender” to which my anxious dad couldn’t understand, so he dumbed it down “Hes a girl, basically.” For a long time I didn’t remember these sessions but what I also didn’t know, it was the beginning of the end. My parents kept this very secret, my years through school became very confusing. I didn’t understand why I was so different, why the other children bullied me so immensely every day. As you could imagine its takes its tole, it was like nothing ever ended ever at home.  

My parents divorced when I was 4 and even though they’re horrible together I’ve always been sure some of it had to do with my “Disorder” and the shame they felt baring it. After my father left I stayed with my mom and ping ponged as it felt, between my parents so I never got use to a house hold, they’re both completely different. My father was married to my step who had three children of her own, their father was murdered in a drug deal, this affected them more than they knew. I’ve always harbored great resentment of my upbringing by my fathers side, everything that happened there kept secret. My father is one of those people who has no boundaries or emotions whatsoever, he simply doesn’t understand either, he also lacked a moral compass for right and wrong… During my visits there, I was regularly exposed to many perversions of his pornography and inappropriate sexual stories was…always there. I’ve wondered at times if exposing pornography was him trying to provoke a response from me, he was also an exhibitionist and not only to me, as i’m told. Growing up constantly exposed to abuse and incest makes you think that its normal. My older step sister was abused by her fathers father, it caused her to reenact this on me. If he was angry enough there would be beatings. It amuses me that parents beat their child but not as adults, its easy to abuse something thats so helpless. That house was very poisonous, to us all, it was hell. My “disease” as they called it, predisposed me to future self esteem problems. Every Time I was there they would sit me down and (im not being over dramatic) terrorize me for what I was. Constantly drilling into my head that I was an embarrassment, worthless, I’m harming the family, we wish you were just gay, I’ll be killed, or die of AID’S. Parents telling their child (“It”) these things, what else would they believe either than them. Parents are god in the eyes of a child.  

There are days that have haunted me because of him. I don’t agree on taking a child under 10 on hunting trips. My father took me on many of his hunting escapes which I detested, im sure this was his way of “turning me into a man.” which he failed. I vividly remember a few of them, theres this image of one I can’t ever seem to shake. One of his buddies had shot down bird, for some reason I ran out to where it fell, I was just mortified for it. He laid there struggling to fly, then the man came over with a bucket in hand and he grabbed him, bashed his head over the bucket…Its head exploded. You never look at meat the same way again.  

I am thankful for my mother on the matter of accepting me but as I said, she has her own issues. My childhood there was more normal in the beginning, she was very fun and loving. I have good memories of her and I doing things together, I was happy. There was a cousin of mine she left me with while she was working. I never told my mother of what she did while she was gone. She was using me like a puppet for her sexual fantasies, and it lasted for several years. The last time was when she spent the night and my mom walked in and paused. The room was dark. I never asked if she knew or not. She remarried to a doctor with two children of his own who were grown, so I was the only child. We moved in with him to his home which was a glass house, it was a beautiful house surrounded by gardens, and a oak tree with a river canal for the back yard. The neighborhood was gorgeous filled with the most exotic people, sadly I was the ONLY child there in the community. It was fun figuring out ways to entertain yourself when you’re the only one. But on the inside the home was madness. Stepfather is a retired colonel who became a brilliant doctor, but he was extremely obsessive with his home. He has never raised kids, even his own. The house was filled with art and modern furnishings, things you don’t sit on… The table’s were all glass, and marble floors/counters, he was always anxious of something being scratched or stained. So I had to eat with all paper or plastic cups and utensils, he rarely ever ate with us. The living room was off limits, locks from my doors were taken as well as my light bulbs. Even my toilet seat if he was angry. It was looney toons.  

I think my mother cracked under all of this pressure, I didn’t know she was bipolar at the time. There were many days riding home from school and she would just randomly start whaling away on me. Blowing at the smallest of things. I will never forget one day at her work (shes a nurse) I was sitting beside her asking if she would cut a apple for me, she was on the phone so I found a long metal ladle like spoon and tried splitting the apple. After I pushed hard enough it split which made a loud chop noise, my mother screamed and took the metal spoon  and began beating me. She cut her hand open on the handle, she just sat down and stared at her palm. As time went by her illness became worse with violent mood swings then crashing into deep depression. When school started she would leave on “vacation” for a week or two leaving me with my grandmother. I’m sure she was trying to run away from her duties as a mother, unable to deal with this burden she fell into a deep depression in me freshman year. For awhile she couldn’t take care of anything, me, most of all her herself. She was gone.  

Throughout my years in school I slowly developed myself as I felt, I borrowed my sisters clothing and slowly eased myself into the public. I didn’t want to cause more gossip or stares and laughs. To my benefit it worked taking one thing at a time. I will admit I am very fortunate for having feminine features, it was like I never developed as boy. I also feel that I didn’t turn myself into a woman…I just became one. The downside was being male and looking female without effort, it caused never ending harassment at school. Imagine its your first day in 9th grade your name is called out during roll call and when you say “Here” the room goes quiet staring at you then you hear giggling. Now imagine the next day when the whole school knows and you just found out because the entire cafeteria is staring and laughing at you. Fortunately I did have a group of friends but I always felt they were using me for their amusement.   When I was 14 I began hormone replacement therapy which luckily voided the male puberty phase and slowly I turned less androgynous and then I was just…just another girl. When I was 18 I realized that men were finding me attractive which was completely new to me. So for awhile I became a regular at some the gay bars, meeting new people, going to partys. After a lifetime of being alone for so long it felt good being around all these people, I’m just ashamed because it was for all the wrong reasons, but growing up the way I did it was the only way I knew how… Eventually the clubbing had turned into something else, I eventually encountered drugs which is one of my most shameful moments in life. I began doing meth, during this time I was finishing school and was anxious over passing my exams because if I didn’t, my therapist wouldn’t sign my gender reassignment form. And thats one hell of a motivator. I used meth for about a month, and I did things I wish I could take back so I wouldn’t have. I sold myself for meth.and i regret this so much. A few days later while driving home, I was feeling the guilt of what I had done for something so destructive. I threw the bag out of my window, I never went back. I passed my classes and achieved my final consent form. I had never been so excited my entire life, I thought to myself “Finally its OVER” No more wearing spandex, or the pain of duck tape just to appear normal. I can finally wear the clothes I want, a bathing suit, I could finally date someone, I’m going to be normal!  

The surgery was scheduled in San Fran, it was just me and my mother, she was more stable than she had been in the past. I remember that finally day waiting in the preparation room. I was listening to 10000 miles by Mary Chapin Carpenter. The nurses was trying to wrap my ponytail, my mother sat smiling, and my father was there…anxiously questioning the nurse. A very attractive doctor came with a wheelchair, as he pushed me to the operating room he was saying something, but closer we got to the doors my hearing started to fade into blurs. Inside the room it was filled with nurses in blue, the room was dim and there lied the table. It was in the shape of a cross, this is when my mind went silent. I thought to myself “Okay it’s real, this is it.” Laying there the nurses began strapping my arms, the anesthesiologist was something something to me but I just nodded my head. I couldn’t help it but tears slowly began to run down my face. “Count back from ten for me.” And then I fell asleep.  

My recovery went well at the time, unfortunately I never gained back any sensitivity which is a rare possibility.  the first 2 weeks I was in a hotel bed watching documentaries on gangs in california. After laying there for two weeks I grew curious, I wanted to see my reflection so I slooooowly got out of bed now dragging my feet to the bathroom mirror and there I was….I opened my robe studying myself over I realized that I looked different, my face had cheekbones my body was smaller, I had lost weight and I liked it…To skip forward I was now living with my dad during recover. my stepfather didn’t want me there because “I was taking up my mom” The first thing my father said to me when I moved in was “Its over. we’ll never talk about it again.” Like my surgery or the past 19 years of my life never happened, I was completely befuddled. Three months later of recovery and staying in my room, I felt confident about starting college, so I did. Home had become a war zone between me and my stepmother, she was furious with my father for kicking out her son who is a extreme drug addict. The resentment she felt came out on me a lot for any reason. Now looking back I really don’t blame her for the anger she felt, I don’t understand how she lived so long with him.  

My life felt out of control. I didn’t fully realize how much it affected me when my father said he never wants to talk about it again. Even after srs I was never good enough, woman enough, nothing I did was right. I could never be the daughter he wanted. At this point living with the  pernicious nature of my father, my mothers mania, school, and me trying to be the best woman I could, I finally cracked. I was on a mission my entire life surviving all the challenges, but when I finally felt I escaped, I hadn’t. Its like I went out in space and made this amazing change to my life, I felt all my problems would be solved but when I came back down to earth and saw that nothing there had changed…I felt as if nothing had changed at all, nothing became better. And this when my eating disorder introduced itself.  

Eating Disorders find you at your weakest moments, slowly they creep into your mind and eventually begin eating away at your soul so you can’t feel. It starts to eat away at all those overwhelming emotions you can handle anymore and it starts to romanticize you by promising that everything will be okay. It got me and it kept me prisoner for the worst three years of my life. In the beginning I finally felt some control, I started liking my appearance more but it was never good enough, A year later I had been released from a crisis center that I stayed for a few weeks from suffering episodes of depersonalization. My father moved me into a trailer park and left me on my own, luckily I found a job as a waitress and steadily over time my life became foggy I had no idea what I was doing. I switched jobs to a sales position at a department store and worked there over a year and during that time my anorexia had began to take control of my mind little by little. I wanted to go back to school but something in my brain was keeping me down, it just seemed like anything challenging or burdensome scared me. I was scared of failure and unsure of myself.  

There was a small happy streak for about 3 months when I met a man who was very interested in me, the feeling was mutual. We had a lot in common, he talked to me everyday, we enjoyed each others company. I started to feel a spark within myself, it was happiness, I haven’t felt this before or its just been too long to remember. After awhile he became increasingly distant only seeing me at night, he never introduced me to anyone. Eventually the messages stopped, there was no goodbye. The pain was unbearable.(When I think about him now, I know that it must had scared him being with someone who was…shrinking, I’ve moved on) At work my coworkers were the highlight of my days, these older women were like family to me and eventually I started to get over him…until one day I saw he left a voicemail, he called to tell me he has chlamydia. Overwhelmed with emotions especially because he was my first, my mind and body couldn’t take it anymore. My eating disorder had become full blown and I didn’t care anymore. As depressed as I was, suicide began to wallpaper itself on my brain, I began looking up suicide methods when I came across starvation. The text read “Anorexia is believed to be a subconscious form of suicide” After reading I broke down, it was finally said. it occurred to me that there was no other way to go. I became so ill I started missing work because I was to weak to stand. I had completely depleted my body. I was dying…. My father came to see me, he couldn’t bare to looking me in the eye. He tried convincing me of treatment but no, I didn’t want any. There was nothing to live for…  

The last day  worked I was driving home in the night and I was having trouble concentrating, I remember I fell asleep from exhaustion. The cars left front tire caught the edge of road jerking me awake I tried turning back on the road but it was too late. At 70 mph the front tire caught grass causing the care to spin off the free way, the force was pulling me between my seat and door, the car hit something and began to barrel role onto the other highway, finally landing upside down. I wasn’t wear my seatbelt. I had blacked out and awoke in my car, a man  helped pulled me out. The car was completely crushed…and nothing happened to me, I only thought “Why, why couldn’t I have just died?” Did this happen for a reason?  

Two weeks later I was admitted at a eating disorder treatment center in Oklahoma. I had no idea that this would be the most intense six months of my life. To make this short, when people ask me about my stay there. I say that even though its been the most intense time of my life, it has also been the greatest because this is where my life began. This is where I learned who I am, this is where I met the greatest people of my life. They saved my life. Things changed into unfamiliar areas when I moved to the halfway transitional house. The purpose was for us to see how we would manage back in the real world. It was like living with a family, which is something I haven’t fully got over losing. Watching everyone leave I’ve come to love as a family I’ve never had really hurt… Thats something about this place, is that everyone I’ve met here has filled every type of relationship void I never had. I finally had friends who liked me for who I am, a bestfriend, sisters, even a marriage type of friendship, and I met the mother I’ve always wish I had. And mostly…I met the love of my life, at my lowest time she was what gave me a reason to live, trust the future. She gave me happiness even contentment I have never felt. This vicarious relationship was the best thing that ever happened to me, I learned so much about myself. That gender doesn’t matter, she didn’t care, and that there is a thing called safety,  innocence, and  love in this world.  

She was the last to go, I held on though as lonely as it been I held on. Ever since everyone has departed, Im left with so much self conflict of What Now? Its been hard living here being the last of us, I feel haunted in a way like I can’t escape this place. Its taken awhile to find a decent job and make friends and so I have but I still feel this void. I miss them, I miss her so much and I miss that unique happiness. The three months being apart from each other has been the most confusing time of my life, our relationship worked so well together in completeness but now everything has been completely thrown up in the air so high I can’t see it. I recently visited her out of state and seeing her now has left me heart broken…I went there to see the person I grew to love and….she wasn’t there, it was someone else. I have never seen her so confused and scared before. I figured out that she extremely unhappy about having to live back at home and not being at school (washington St.Louis). Shes genius smart which I think can be conflicting to herself sometimes but shes also ashamed about having to leave school for treatment. This annoyed me a bit, I told her that theres nothing to be ashamed for, overcoming a illness takes so much strength and you accomplished what many others can’t do. We all need help sometimes, and I think theres a reason for everything.  

She was so critical of herself and anxious about everything, how everything’s going to work out. My main purpose for the visit was for us to figure out what we wanted to do with our relationship and it went waaaay different than I thought. Shes always had a hard time explaining her emotions because she thinks so logically, she always makes choices from data. Cold hard math. And I thinking more by my feelings so that just shows how we work, in a vicarious way. We bring each other out if that makes sense? I had planned on moving to the town where she attends school, I told her “I dont have any roots here, I want to move away from all this, I want to move on. But before I make that decision I need to know if you want me to be there.?” I asked her all the questions I’ve needed too; Do you ever miss me, do you want me around, what do you feel for me, What do I do for you? She said yes to all but when she tried explaining what I am to her, she struggled so hard saying it, only but “You comfort me in a way no one else can and you make me think about things i’ve never thought about before. I don’t have to worry about anything when i’m with you…but I just don’t understand what this means”  

Some of the things she told me I couldn’t decide what to believe, she was so emotional which is something that happens like once in a decade and confused. I asked her what she thought would happen after she left, like I was just going to forget about you? Did you want this to just be an experience? She said “yes, i’ve never had that before” I dont think she realized what she said…I thought to myself either she means it and hasn’t been able tell me or she still has feelings for me but she doesn’t understand them,… I couldn’t believe her when she told me that she “incapable of loving anyone and  I just dont know how and I dont ever think I will”. I really think that her logical side is fight with her emotional side. Its scared me because if thats true then why have you kept me around for so long why have you let me chase you knowing my feelings when you have none for me? So none of this is making sense. Shes so confused and scared about everything. I left her my journal, I wrote that I want you have a something where you’ll always find me. This is everything I feel for you, its your decision if its something you want. I think i’ll leave her alone until she wants to talk. I just hope she doesn’t shut down.  

The ten hour drive back was hard….really hard. I felt dreadful coming back and with the feeling of major uncertainty. I feel like that may have been the end for us and if so moving is pointless. I was pretty numbed out the next couple of days, and the unthinkable happened… my 22 year old manager gave me the ultimatum of resigning because of my “emotional state”. After this I’ve just kind of shut down…I lost the love of my life, I will never find someone who’s unique as her and now I lost my job all in the same week. I feel like I’ve really lost hope and those old feelings of suicide are haunting me. When I was in treatment I was at my lowest at one time and I attempted a planned out suicide of drowning. The only reason why I got out was because of her.. nothing is as enjoyable without sharing them with her. Now all that I have left here are the memories of what was, I cant escape the people I know from treatment or groups . Im tired of people treating me like their eating disorder friend or people I know that are trans that treat me like their trans friend, why can I just be a friend and I am not transgender anymore I’m just a woman now. STOP!  What i’m sick of the most are people who treating me like a confessional booth or therapist. What about me? Can’t we just enjoy each others company and not talk about this all the time?. These recurring elements of the past feel like their haunting me. All of the intrusive memories wont go away.  And I can’t escape

I feel like I have failed at everything right now, and im just ready to let go. Im so lost. I felt like writing some of my story would help, even if no ones reads it. If anyone can help. please do.   Thank you -Jill

“Hello heaven, you are a tunnel lined with yellow lights on a dark night.”