Who am I supposed to be?

I've always known that something wasn't right about me. As a child I didn't know boy from girl except for what I was taught. Once I became aware of the differences between the genders it all started to make sense. From about the first grade or so I knew I adored what other girls were wearing and how they acted. They were different than the boys I played with. I wanted to be like the girls. As time went on I realized I was a girl but something was still wrong. I was forced into being a boy because of the genitalia I was born with. By ten or twelve I knew I wasn't a boy. I spend my entire adolescence secretly hoping and praying my body would somehow miraculously transform into that of a girl. I would secretly dress in girls clothes. I taught myself to walk and act like the other girls. If I tried hard enough it would all work out and I could assume the outward mantle of the girl trapped within. Even during my early twenties I watched and learned all I could in hopes of passing as the female I knew I truly was. Still I had to keep it a secret.

I've always been attracted to girls and yet I was one. In my youth, the words Gay and Lesbian were not used and Homosexual was only uttered in hushed tones. In High School and College I had sexual relationships with other girls. I have never been physically attracted to the male gender. Nothing about boys or men has ever appealed to me, I hated and still do hate being called one. I was rasied a boy, I was taught to be a boy. I was pushed into all things male, but I wasn't male. A constant battle raged within me. I am a male, no I am a female. It was mentally draining. Finally about twenty-five I gave up. Everyone around me, my parents, my pastor, my friends both boy and girl; people I respected and admired told me I was a man. So I must be a man. I destroyed everything female I had collected. I assumed the male role that was expected of me. All those people had to right. I knew of no one else like me. There was not a single book in the library that I could find, that explained what I was feeling. I wasn't about to ask Mom or Dad I knew better than that. So by twenty-seven I was married and enjoying all life had to offer. All the while there was still this nagging voice, this feeling of difference. A happily married man yet always secretly looking and watching, envying, desiring, needing to be the opposite. NO! stop its wrong. Push it away. You're a man you have a penis.

to be continued: