Rachel's Yard| A New Continuation
This is a short story about me, up until this point.
Growing up as the only child (and seen as a boy) in a traditional Chinese family (in China), it has its perks and disadvantages.
Life goes on for many years: (Can you guess which one is me?)
With a dad who has a MBA degree, and a mom who was basically a teacher her entire life, my parents decided that it would be a good idea for me to study aboard, specifically, the United States. Of course, my parents were very emotional when we waved our hands at HKG, when I was 14 years old.
When I arrived in the States, I was greeted with my dad's best friends. While all other international students were living with their assigned host famililes, I was basically living with an extension of my family. Sandy, she treated me like her own son, even more so than her own kids, for reasons that I did not understand.
Well, when you were young, the hormone rush was real. My puberty came early, and I had my first "girlfriend" when I was like, 12. I still felt guilty that I did so many unspeakably horrible things to her. Likewise, I had a second "girlfriend" while I was in high school, 16, in the States. I, again, did many unspeakbly horrible things to her as well. I did not know why I was such abusive towards people that I care about.
(Graduated from high school, PC my dad)
High school went by without much hurdles, and UCSC was the only school that accepted me (and SJSU, and UCD), and I started my life in a college dorm, 18.
I was very ego-centric, authoritarian, basically like my dad. It wasn't until I was 21, I had realized how fucked up I was as a human being. For that, I want to say special thanks to Alex, Tiffany, and Taiki. They were there when I was throwing my tantrum; they were there where no one else was there for me (not even my parents, seriously); they were there while I was at my lowest point.
Ever since I was young, there was this part of me thats always feels different. I would dress up from my mom's wardrope in secret sometimes, and felt bad about it because I was taught that this is wrong. On the other hand, the more I saw my dad, the more I got scared. I remembered vividly of how my dad cheated on my mom, and when my mom confronted him, he hit my mom with my toy. I remembered vividly of how my dad will yell at my mom for the slightest error out of nothing. I would secretly feel bad for my mom. As I grew older and my puberty hit me like a train, I thought that I was just another regular guy who is "like father like son". But, that got me scared again. It must have been a mistake. I'm not like my dad, I don't want to become my dad.
To me, this is a blessing that I was at a liberal college, and learned about feminism and sexuality. It was Christmas in 2015, that I started to explore myself:
The reaction from my friends was, "wow." The reaction from my parents was, "what the fuck?"
The idea of "transgenderism" was still unknown to me, however, I found myself more at ease with feminine living attiude and inner self. I started to dress more feminine, I started to at least try to be more compassionated, I started to align myself with what I thought I should become. For the entire 2016, I was exploring myself, and trying to figure out myself. Some parts of me suddenly click, as if I have found my soul. Other parts of me with an internalized transphobia screams to me that I'm a freak. During that time of internal struggle, I found myself as Rachel, the lost child.
It was after my 22nd birthday, and a random morning sometime in December, I woke up from a dream that I could not recall. However, it was like a calling to me that I should call my doctor, about starting HRT. I've been researching many topics about myself, from the liberal side, from the conservative side, about "is transgenderism a mental illness", everything about transgender. It was to my conclusion that, no, I've been doubting myself my entire life, and I need to take back control of my own life.
I started HRT under very a detailed informed consent, and two (separate) letters from therapists. Immediately (exaggeration), I found myself at ease at myself. I had found the lost self for 22 years. It never occurred to me that HRT was the magical bullet that pierce through the fog, and saved me from doubts. I had found my lost emotions again. Hormones are the messengers of the Gospel, so to speak. I'm hopeful that I'm being myself.
(Me and Alex)