Debriefing.

It’s been a while, and a lot has happened. So there will be this post, to debrief, and another to talk about the coming year.

Since my brother found out, things were alright for a while. I figured I had an ally. Turns out he was a double agent.

I worked up the courage to gather an e-mail for my parents, the words both faintly bitter and telling them directly. I included a load of links (not like the ones on my last post) that explained absolutely everything, even went to the trouble of finding them a pdf document that literally went through how to handle, what to do and say. I mentioned that I’d had to find my own councellor – backfired, she had no idea what to do with me – and said how difficult it can be to just leave my room.

If that didn’t do it, I was sure nothing would, and I was right. I got a mass of crap about nobody caring what gender I am, and refusal to address me how I want them to.

I just left it, figuring there was nothing I could do, but the next weekend they both got a little drunk at woke me at 6am with their shouting downstairs. They wished they’d never let me online, intended to spring a conversation on me without warning. I texted my brother, which seemed like a good plan, told him about my name changing that I’d intended to do in three weeks when my partner visits. He told my parents and the next evening I was called downstairs to talk to them all.

It boils down to the fact that I’m too young. Apparently. Too young to know what’s really good for me, because at my age things that seem important won’t be, later on. I’m not allowed to ‘mutilate’ my body, or modify it, because I’ll regret it down the line. And no name changing. Oh, and meet them half way on all this.

Problem being, they’ve not given me a halfway, just their way.

My mother confronted me separately, a few days before, told me not to bind, because she hates what it’s doing to me, it’s damaging, it’s ridiculous, me saying that my chest makes me uncomfortable. Even suggested it’s a mental instability.

But when it comes down to it, they still want me to be happy. Somehow.

So I’m interpreting it as follows: While parents may be correct about many things, simply because they have more experience, that is not the case when it comes to LGBT* problems, or our own bodies. They’re idiotically gender stereotypical, and selfishly don’t want to lost ‘their daughter’. Nobody can tell you what you think. I just have to hang in for a while longer. Once I hit 18, they actually have no control, and I can do anything I need to, telling them once and for all that this has been hanging over my head my entire life, and I’m sick of their lies.

Only 16 months until I’m 18. Only four until I’m old enough to fly without their need for consent, so I can run to Sweden when I need to.

It’s going to be alright, I hope. It has to be, really, there’s no way around it.

I also got some awesome support today, but more on that another day when I’ve had time to type everything together.