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My life as a transgirl.

There's always hope, never give up.

''A chocolate muffin to go,'' that was all I said. But I could see the look in his eyes as he saw me. Disgust, that's what I saw. I'm used to it now though, I see it everywhere I go. Being strong as I usually am, I just took the muffin as he finally decided to give it to me then sloppily dropped the exact change on the counter before leaving without a word. But being strong doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, it never does. I've encountered that look so many times I can't even begin to count it, but each time I see it I still feel empty and worthless, as if I wasn't allowed to walk on this earth amongst the normal people. Deep down I know I do belong here, but people like him make the emotions flow through me all over again. I'll be honest; there are people worse of than me. Girls who look far more revealing than I do, those who barely passes at all. I know this and I don't like to complain since I was fortunate enough to at least be partially feminine from the start. The muffin I bought didn't taste anything but sadness and there was no way for me to enjoy it with my head filled to the brim with self-lothing and hate. Again, I don't want to complain but it's difficult not to. I don't enjoy being the whiny bitch in my group of friends, the one everyone calls as a last resort, the one people talk about behind my back. And even though they all keep reassuring me that all that isn't true, it all comes crashing down when someone looks at me as if I am garbage. Believe me, being a transgendered isn't at all a walk on roses and the glorified life that Caitlyn Jenner makes it out to be in media.

It all starts when you're young. I'm not saying you're aware of your problems as a child, but you know something is wrong. Take me for example, I never fit in and I always felt jealous towards the girls in my school. That long hair I just ached to touch and those pretty clothes I wanted to have, all so close yet so far away. Not that I knew why I felt that way though, not at all. In my case I acted out in a rather unfortunate way and started to chase girls around and acted mean towards them, but do you blame me? What child can ever understand such a complicated feeling as being stuck in a wrong body? None. Obviously chasing girls around wasn't the only thing that hinted towards my transsexuality, but it was one of the earliest signs. I spent most of my childhood bullied. I bet if I asked you to guess for what you'd hit the mark right away; I was bullied by being called ''fag'' or ''gay''. As I entered my teenage, they even started to say I was way to feminine and it was weird that my hips were shaking as I walked. Personally I wasn't even aware of it, but I guess I'd subconsciously created a habit to better reflect who I am. My point with all of this isn't to prove that I was transgendered back then, no. Instead I am trying to explain how I felt at the time. I was always sad and depressed, which probably is no surprise given what I just told you. My parents just assumed that the way I felt and acted was a direct reflection to my troubles in school, and no one ever thought to look at a deeper meaning. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to blame my parents for anything as I am sure most parents would do the same thing. Heck, even I was convinced that I was as sad and depressed as I was due to the bullying and my tough school situation. In hindsight I know that wasn't the case though.

I was eleven or twelve when I realized it the first time. A documentary on television opened my eyes to the possibilities of sex changes and hormonal treatments. I remember thinking I was jealous and that I wished I could've done it myself. I also remember quickly convincing myself that it possibly couldn't be the case and that I was just confused over something else. After all, I was not even a teenager yet. It was also around this time I started to become sexually aware. A friend of mine showed me some porn and an easy way to access it. Given my confused feelings I was hooked and quickly started to explore all different kinds of porn. At the time I really liked crossdressers, shemales and other kind of pornstars in that category. Again, in hindsight it's understandable but at the time I didn't quite connect the dots. I wish I had though, because perhaps my situation today would be different. Maybe not. My exploration didn't stop there though, as you probably already suspected. Whenever I was alone at home I was quick to look up porn of whatever I fancied for the day, but I also began exploring my mothers closet. I tried on everything from simple underwear to full outfits. It was really satisfying to see myself in dresses and womens underwear, but I also found it to be a lot more satisfying to wear it when I helped myself infront of the porn I'd dug out before. Perhaps not the prettiest image, but sadly it's true and I believe this was the case for a lot of other transgirls. For several years this was what I thought was the extent of my odd attraction to crossdressing. I tried to believe it was. Until I turned sixteen, all I did to further explore my kinks was to download and browse through less and less common porn and it always tended to stop at some form of drawn image of either a famous cartoon character or a furry character that I thought belonged to a show such as Digimon or Pokémon. I never quite figured out there was an entire fandom dedicated to things like that.

When I was sixteen I entered the Swedish equivalency to high school. I ended up in a rather small school with a large group of outcasts such as me. People who had withdrawn themselves from society to focus on their computer, or people who had been bullied just like me. Needless to say it wasn't he most sociable group of people you could imagine, but it helped me. Since I wans't the only one who was awkward and introverted it was easier for me to interact with people and act out who I was, even if only a little. My first year of high school was certainly the year of awakening for me as I found out a lot about my sexuality, my fetishes and my transsexuality. By then I already knew that I had an attraction towards both boys and girls, but I'd never really embraced. I had a girlfriend when I was fourteen, but that never lead to anything sexual and all I knew about relationships at that point was kissing and hugging. In my class I found a boy, one who was openly gay and certainly in the market for a partner. It didn't take long for us to hook up and explore who we were. At first he introduced me to the furry fandom; he had quite an impressive collection and well organized pictures on his computer and as he let me browse through them I quickly realized that I was part of that fandom too. He showed me websites and forums where I could meet others like us, and I've been a proud puppy ever since. Strangely enough my furry disposition wasn't at all strange to me and far from the most confusing part of myself. I simply embraced it and incorporated the fandom in my everyday life, or at least my life online. As for the boy who introduced me to the fandom, I really liked him. He cared for me, and he always smiled and whenever I needed a hug he was quickly there to oblige. I tried to do the same for him, even though it wasn't always easy. I don't remember for how long we were dating, but it all ended after we tried to have sex the first time. Poor old me wasn't at all prepared for it when it finally happened, and I was terrible at everything regarding the act itself. I was too scared to put his genitals in my mouth and I couldn't even let him get close to my butt without freaking out. When I tried to be the one on top I couldn't even find my way in, and being incredibly embarrassed I left very quickly. Then we drifted apart not too long after, quite unceremoniously.

In our class was another boy. He was quiet and kept to himself a lot, although he was not stranger to standing in the center being the class clown or simply being himself no matter how strange he seemed. We had a lot incommon, both emotionally and personalitywise. He came to be my best friend, and he still is one of them. When I first met him at the start of our freshman year, he was this buff guy with short hair who practiced kick-boxing regularly. He was strong and always in front during whatever activity we did during P.E. Today I am not sure when he and I started connecting, but we already knew we were best friends at the end of the first semester. By then he had changed a lot as well. He let his hair grow out, he wore hair clips, necklaces or anything he liked no matter if it was considered girly or not. Eventually he even bought a skirt he wore to school, and amazingly enough no one said anything in school, although I guess no one was surprise due to his weirdness everyone had grown accustomed to. As you might imagine his behavior created a reaction in me as well. I felt incredibly weird and I knew that I had to be like him, I knew that I had to do what he did as well. By then I had already tried to let my hair grow out a million times, and lost my patience with it just as many times. But I began letting it grow again, and I bought hair accessories. I remember buying my first diadem, I remember wearing it in public. I also remember hearing people say mean stuff to me on the bus to school and how I shoved the diadem back into my bag. By then I didn't know who I was at all, I didn't have a nische. When me and my friend was in the store just looking through clothes, I found a pair of pink leg warmers that I bought. Strangely enough I didn't wear them on my legs, but I wore them like sleeves instead, and that became my thing for a while. I was quite content with that, but the more my friend started to dress girly, the more I felt like I had to as well. Thankfully he was always far more ''out there'' whenever we were outside, so I could safely dress and accessorize at my own pace because everyone around us looked at him, not me. This was essentially everything that happened until the year I turned eighteen.

I'd like to start off by saying I was depressed and quite a lot. The fact that I called myself in sick everyday after I turned eighteen was no surprise to anyone really, even though my mom was pissed when she found out. I stopped going to school for a while and stayed at home browsing the net or played on my xbox. I hardly left the house unless I wanted food, and the longer I stayed away from school the harder it was to come back since I fell more and more behind. My teachers desperatedly tried to help me back on track and they were truly wonderful in their efforts to help me through a tough time. Sadly I wasn't much a hopeful case and I failed most of my subjects that year. By the end of that year, my sophomore year, I finally visited a pyschiatrist. She made me fill out a form and based on my answers she gave me medication. Looking back it's easy to say I got a bad doctor who didn't listen and didn't care, but at least I got my pills. Too bad they didn't work and instead of lowering my depression they instead shut me off completely instead. I didn't feel anything for a long time. Even when I got admitted to the sex-change clinic for an investigation I felt so off and so dead inside that I never actually showed up to the meetings and ended up missing my chance for a few more years.

For my senior year I spent about ten percent of my time actually at school. Only times I was there was when my friend, the one I told you about before, showed up at my home in the morning with his car and said he's not leaving without me. He started doing that a lot, but after a month or so he realized it wasn't helping anyone and stopped, and instead met with me after school and alone. I don't think I was a very good friend to anyone at the time and it's a wonder I still have friends from that time. Towards the end of that year I began working instead. I didn't show up for graduation because I was working and I more or less cut off contact with most people that still cared; only two people persevered and are still in my life thankfully. It was also around this time that a family member (a nurse) heard of my pills and how I reacted to them from my mom. Without a single shred of doubt she quickly instructed my mother to stop letting me eat them, and to my great joy I got to stop taking those infernal pills. It didn't take long for their effect to wear off and I started to feel better again and after two years of emotionless hell I could finally experience happiness, sadness and anger again in a more natural and normal way. Not that I ever knew true happines though, as I was always that kid who got good things but never truly understood why they were so great or appreciated them fully. Instead of shrieking joy I was the kid that said ''okay'' and politely thanked before unceremoniously putting whatever it was to the side. Perhaps I was ungrateful, perhaps, but I was also deeply depressed and that makes it so much harder to appreciate anything and feel that slight hint of uncontrollable happiness. Anyway, that following year my mom and her husband of nine years divorced and me and mom moved back to the town where I was originally from. That year was very stagnant and nothing happened. I met with a new psychiatrist, got new pills and soon enough rejected as well. To this day I haven't tried a third option because I was scared. Don't get me wrong though, I don't regret that choice at all. During this period I'd made a bunch of new friends online who all lived close to me. They were all older than me, the oldest one being around thirty, but I didn't mind. I met them through a swedish furry website, so they were all in the fandom. It was an amazing experience meeting them all as it broadened my views on the fandom and the diversity found amongst furry people. I lost contact with most of them over time, but one of them is still in my life; another transgirl. When I met her she was living a boys life, with an affinity for crossdressing just like I had been. She was around twenty five at the time, and she introduce me to proper sex for the first time. Under her instructions I crossdressed during those times we did the naught stuff and I was content with that, but even though it was fun to crossdress in a sexual situation, not once did I particularly enjoy it or even reached an orgasm. It was around this time I started to ponder the possiblity of me being asexual. My friend however soon told me that she was transsexual, and she began her own individual investigation to get her hormones. Suddenly I feel behind and I began to feel stressed out, especially since I had been aware of my feelings longer than her. It took me roughly another year before I finally began my own journey to catch up to her and to find myself.

When I was twenty I did something truly contradictory to my story, but I don't regret it. Ever since I was around thirteen I had over and over tried to grow my hair, but I always lost my patience when my hair grew past my ears; it was as if the hair stopped growing and that length was so difficult to manage so I always ended up cutting it. It happened again when I was twenty, but instead of having my mom cut is as usual (she's a trained hairdresser), I took her razor and just balded myself. Strangely enough that was one of the most satisfying feelings I'd ever felt in my life. Suddenly something that's supposed to be out of my control was completely at my mercy and the stress I'd felt about my hairlength so many times just washed out of me. Ever since then I have been patient with my hair, and thankfully it did grow past my ears; it's now past my shoulders. While I was bald, or at least quite short haired, I acted out any doubts in my mind about my transsexuality. I tried out different beardstyles, I dressed manly and tried to look at cool and masculine as I could. But after doing it for a while it wasn't hard for me to see that it wasn't my thing at all, and once my hair reached a point where I could do girly things with it, I started to play around with make-up and buying girly clothes. It was also around that time that I began wearing womens underwear fulltime. I still lived at home though, and since I wasn't alone and my mom started a new relationship where the guy moved in with us it was hard for me to gather the courage to properly transition myself. Mom already knew about me, and so did my dad, so that was never really a problem. Her new boyfriend was told about it early on and showed his support in any way he could. Sadly our situation at home quickly declined and while I wasn't innocent and without guilt, the reason it declined was due to the man that lived with us. He didn't work and was at home all day, and he was an alcoholic meaning I had to deal with him being drunk and aggressive every day. Mom insisted on that she loved him though, so the quality of life at home simply kept declining over the coming year until I eventually snapped and outed him, and sadly my mom, on Facebook in a very strongly worded and hateful post. A lot of people urged me to remove it, which I ended up doing, but the damage was already done. That same day I left my home and ended up on my dads couch in their family of five. They kept telling me they wanted to help me, but they also berated and guilttripped me every chance they could for all the evil that had befallen their family during the three months I lived there. It was also during this time that I realized that my mom wasn't as bad as I thought she was, and I'd been fed a lot of negative information or propaganda about her from my dad and his wife.

During my stay with my dad and his family I managed to secure myself an apartment and moved out after three months. Dad helped me furnish it and then I lived on my own, far away from combating parents and depressing arguments in the environment that was meant to be my safe haven. What I forgot to mention was that during those months as well I had started to see a doctor for my transsexuality. To him there was no doubt about how I felt and he quickly put the ball in motion. I went through all the tests that you have to take, and met with a voice coach to measure my voice and they took blood tests to make sure I was healthy enough for hormones, which luckily I was. Towards the end of August of last year the doctor told me his work was done for the moment and referred me to the doctor handling the medication, while giving me two ultimatums; decide on a new name, and start to live like a woman full time. This was hard, obviously. I'd gone through a lot of names during the past ten years online. I'd have many aliases that never quite made the cut in the end. So for a few months I stressed about my name rather than actually starting to live as a woman. By the end of October I was granted hormones. I thought that was the happiest day of my life, but my dad quickly put me down on earth that same day as I told him I was getting a dog that following week. He went behind my back and discredited me to the people helping me get this dog, and while he was unsuccessful I couldn't forgive him. We didn't talk for six or so weeks, during which time I began dressing like a woman more and more often and tried to get used to it despite how scary it was. I'd also changed name twice during this time, which obviously peeved most of the people close to me since they had to readjust more than once.

Starting on hormones was no piece of cake. At first I thought they did nothing, for about two weeks. Then one day I was hit by the biggest emotional breakdown I've ever experienced. I had a minor argument with a friend online and I just burst into tears. I cried for several hours non-stop. It was brutal as I couldn't stop and I felt so overwhelmed by sadness I could barely cope. Soon enough I realized that my hormones were actually the reason behind it though, and knowing that it was harder to deal with the next emotional breakdown that I had a few days later. The following months were very difficult to me as I had a puppy to care while my emotions acted like a rollercoaster. Friends online helped me through it, and even though I almost ended my life on a few occasions they always managed to get me to put the knife down and calm down. Around this time my mom really stepped up as well. Even though we'd reconnected during the summer, it was first during the winter months that she truly showed that she had changed and realized what she needed to do for me in order for our relationship to work and I am incredibly grateful to her. She began buying my clothes and explained to me how to handle my hair properly so thanks to her my wardrobe slowly but surely expanded and I could thanks to that dress according to my gender more often and daily.

A lot of my family showed a side I didn't know they had during christmas times. I was scared to sit in a room with my whole family while my grandparents were there as they kept trying to shrug my situation off as a phase to everyone around us so I ended up canceling out on christmas all together, both on my moms and my dads side. Me, mom and her boyfriend (yes, the same one) celebrated christmas and new years eve at the same time and my mom had gotten me even more clothes by then. I felt happy that someone actively tried and cared. Around this time I changed name yet again, although this time I got it right. My mom was very open to using the right now, no one else was. I've sadly had to break contact with family members because of this, but I feel stronger and happier knowing the toxicity in my life has been reduced to a minimum. During the following months I changed a lot and my mom kept helping to do that. I got more stuff, clothes and make-up, and she was there when I needed the emotional support. In March I got a new boyfriend who'd been with me since last year and finally we both realized our feelings for each other. Life was looking up, but I was still depressed. But I soon had something sort of like an epiphany and I really began working towards happiness and towards a healthy lifestyle. Today it's May the first, and I've never been happier than I am today. I got my official and legal name change just a few days before I reached my six month milestone on hormones, and believe me, I cried with joy. For the first time in my life I truly felt so happy about something that I cried. I was euphoric for an entire day and my boyfriend told me it was impossible to communicate with me because I was just so darn happy. Life will always look up if you try, I've proven that and I don't intend to fall back down. Being a transwoman is hard, but it's definitely worth the trouble when you see yourself in the mirror and all you see is a beautiful girl instead of the disgusting boy you saw all your life.

This is my life story thus far. If you read it I am grateful, but I really only wrote this for my own sake and to put it all down in words. If anything I hope this inspires someone else in my situation to take control of their own life. If anyone has any questions you're welcome to PM me, I'll always be happy to answer any questions.

Ciao~