This is a blog for anyone who likes to hear stories of transformation, life long pursuits of happiness, the indescribable joy and total despair of families. It's a story of transformation from sad to happy, from anxious to relaxed, from lonely to surrounded by caring friends and family. But it's mostly about how all that anguish and emotion is impacted by and has impact on the inescapable need to transition from a boy to a girl.
My Mom passed away in 2006, before my grandchildren were born, before anyone knew about me. It was very difficult to mourn her passing, I was sad and lonely and in a very depressed mental state. I wrote her a letter for her upcoming birthday in March. It's written to mostly to help me mourn her passing but also to help tell my story.
In all reality it was before I could even giggle...
Happy Birthday Mom,
you would have been 89, a lot has happened to us in the years since you’ve been
gone. Your eldest granddaughter, Mary, has two children, Rachel and Geoff. Rachel
is a beautiful, brilliant and artistic young lady about to turn 11 (she reminds
us of Mary daily). Geoff, unfortunately, has cerebral palsy with epilepsy. When
he’s in control of himself, he is an extremely loving and caring 9-year-old
boy.They are wonderful, you would have
loved them to pieces.I know Vanessa and
I do. Mary and the kid’s father are no longer together, sadly it did not end
well. There were issues of abuse, neglect and domestic violence.After many allegations, legal battles and
custody claims, Rachel lives here in North Carolina with Mary while Geoff lives
in Massachusetts with his Dad. Mary has been brilliant in handling this
disaster, but it is very clear to all (judges included) Geoff and Rachel cannot
live together. Geoff’s outbursts are too violent, Rachel is not safe.
Perhaps someday I can write and
explain all this to you, but it is long and sad and gut wrenching and honestly
not what I want to talk to you about today.
I want to tell you about me.
Below is my story, I sure would’ve
loved to talk with you about this. I know now, I should have never left that
den all those years ago without introducing myself…
My name is Jaimie and I’m your
“I have been trying to find a way to tell this story nearly
all my life or at least since I was thirteen. The emotional pounding, we as a
family have taken over the last few years has left me questioning, well,
everything. Most importantly my own honesty to myself, which translates to
honesty with everyone else. With that said I am compelled to tell my biggest
was 12-13 years old, I would take my Saturday evening shower in the lone
bathroom in the house. The medicine cabinet shelves housed my mother and
sister’s collection of makeup. It was mostly a raspberry lipstick and a tube or
two of mascara. I would try them on and just swoon.It was wonderful.
I’d then jump into the shower, wash them off and no one was the wiser. That is
until the mascara was changed to a waterproof version. Try as I might, I could
not wash it off. I did the best I could, left the bathroom for the next
person’s turn.My mother was in the
kitchen when she saw me she said “why are your eyes so dark?”. I nearly
panicked, but managed to say, “I don’t know”, then run off to watch TV. This
scared me beyond words, I swore to myself I’d never to that again. But I did
many, many times. I dreamed of being a girl and wearing makeup and skirts,
smiling and giggling. To me being a girl had way more advantages than being a
boy. It was just right, it was me. I hated living as a boy, I was always the last one picked for any sports, I
was week, my nose was always running. I felt like a disgusting mess.
one day when I was 13 or 14, I couldn’t take it anymore, I decided to run away and
become a girl. I packed up the girly things I might need makeup, nail polish,
electric shaver so I could shave my legs. I hid in Grandpa Roberts attic and
waited while folks searched for me, they came close, but did not find me. As
night wore on, I got scared and concocted a story about being in the woods
falling down and hitting my head. I even banged my head against a rock until I
scraped the skin and bled a little. Then I went home… there were lots of hugs
and crying relieve. Also, there was a promise of a “talk”. Mom and Dad took me to Holden Hospital
emergency room to have my head checked (too bad they only checked the outside…).
The doctor told Mom and Dad some boys struggle with puberty and I’d probably outgrow
this type of behavior. The next day after school and into the evening I was
expecting to get called into the “talk”, but nothing happened. The next day
same thing, not a word about it. On the third day the talk request came. The
three of us sat together in the den, me in a chair in the middle of the room. They
wanted to know why I did this and what I was feeling. I started to explain my
compulsion, that I was really a girl. Mom gasped and said, “Oh my God that’s
what makes criminally crazy people”. I may not have the quote perfect, but the
essence is the same. Dad told her to hush. She didn’t say anything else the
whole time. It definitely shut me up, too (at least until now). So, when they
asked me if I wanted to be a girl I said “No”. They asked what I liked about putting
on makeup, I said “I don’t know it makes me feel good”. They asked if I could
promise to not do it again and I said, “yes I promise to not do it again”. Then
nothing was ever said again. I should have answered those questions differently,
but I was scared.In hindsight, that
promise was impossible, the urges and dreams never left.
pretty much went on the same as before, right up to me leaving for college. My
roommate on the first day announced that college was not for him and his
parents were forcing him to go. He then told everyone on my floor I was queer
and weird, so any friends I might made were gone. I was the butt of all the
pranks and jokes. I came home every weekend and was miserable. I was so lonely.
For the first time in my life, I actually did all my homework, wrote my papers and
prepared for tests. And made the Dean’s list. Then one day while waiting for French class to
begin, I was passing the time reading a chess book, a guy came up to me and
introduced himself. He also played chess, so after class we played. We played a
few times during that first semester but hung out a lot during the second
semester. It was wonderful, I had a friend. The unfortunate part was he drank a
lot and didn’t go to many classes. I just followed along. The outcome was Dean’s
list first semester, academic probation second semester. Mom and Dad were not
happy, they insisted I prove myself at Worcester Jr college. I felt humiliated.
I didn’t make it through the first
semester before I dropped out and got a fulltime job at a screw factory in
next really significant thing (and to me the most significant thing) that happened,
I met girl. I clearly remember the first time I saw her. At that time, I was living in a house with Bill
M., Mike M. and some of Mike’s friends from MIT. Bill dragged us to a
Silva Mind Control seminar, she was there, and she was wearing green eye shadow.
I liked her right away. Of course, I was too scared to say anything even to say,
“Hi I like your eye shadow”. I attended
Quinsigamond Community College, made some friends while performing in the
chorus for spring musical “Mame”.We
were instructed to do our own makeup for the show, foundation, eyeliner and
lipstick. I did not wear any, I was too
afraid someone would notice how much I liked it.The next semester I actually took Drama and
ended directing the play “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”. One day as we were
planning the cast party for after the show, Bill’s girlfriend told me there was
a girl that saw me playing chess in the student lounge and would like to get to
know me. It was Vanessa, but to me it was the girl wearing the green eye shadow!
How awesome was that!
shudder to think what might have happened had I not met her; I believe with all
my sole Vanessa literally saved my life. I love her more now than ever and will
for as long as I live. She even dressed me a girl one Halloween. Throughout
nearly 45 years, she caught me a few times, we played a few times and sadly I
lied a lot. It’s not salient to this story to reveal all those
details, they can remain between Vanessa and me.
back to the story.
three weeks together, we got engaged. We got married after 6 months and have
two kids and two grandkids. One time
before we were married, I pierced my ear, when Vanessa saw it, she was OK with
it. Unfortunately, I had pierced the wrong ear. Back then when boys had
earrings you were “straight” when it was in the left ear and “gay” when in the
right ear. I didn’t know that. Today there is no distinction. I sure would love to have multiple ear
(I think, the years run together, especially in the tear-filled haze I’m
writing this through) our son came out as transgender. This was difficult and
joyous for me in many ways. I was jealous. I was happy for her. I was worried
about the path she was undertaking. I was afraid I did something that caused her
to be this way. I wanted to talk with her about her feelings and experiences,
but I was afraid she’d know why I knew about it. I’ve been reading and studying
about transgenderism all my life.
Jane, I am so sorry for not
supporting you more. I should have helped you more with your journey, shared
what I knew, shared what I felt, how I felt. Please forgive me.
going to happen next? Lots of things, some I don’t even know, yet. One thing
I’m sure of, I can’t lie anymore. I am a transgendered woman.Since Halloween 2019, with the full support
of Vanessa and our family, I’ve been living full time as my true self. I expect
that to continue, forever.”
Well Mom, that’s my story. I expect this is a shock, though
it really shouldn’t be. We all knew something was different. We’ll
talk more as changes come and I’ll keep you update on Mary, Jane, Rachel and Geoff.
The most amazing, stupendous and surprisingly wonderful thing
has happened since I told Vanessa, I am happy. I never knew what
that felt like before.
P.S. I got my ears pierced, 8 times!! Pretty cool!!