At long last, I've come out to my mother with the following letter, which I sent to her via email on October 1, 2021. We spoke this morning on the phone, and all is good. One more step forward...
Dear Mom,
I know things have been quiet between us for a few months, and I’d like to at least attempt to address that, if we can. You apologized for what you did, and I accepted your apology and have forgiven you. However, it all went down at a time when I was feeling particularly vulnerable because of something I’ll share with you now, but was certainly not about to trust you with then. Actually, I’m fairly certain you have some idea of what I’m going to share with you based on the recent friend request you submitted to my (new) Facebook account, but I won’t presume. About Facebook I will say three things: (1) I left Facebook months ago, and only use the new account to particiapte in a discussion group I recently joined that is only housed on that platform; (2) I do not use it to socialize, other than within that particular group; and (3) even if I did, I would not accept your friend request, because we tried that before and it was an absolute disaster—lesson learned. So, on to the issue at hand…
I’m not going to beat around the bush or sugar-coat it for you; you’ll either accept it and support me, or you won’t. That is entirely your choice, but either way, I will be getting on with my life. So, here goes…
For as long as I can remember, I have always identified as female. I have always known this about myself. I think you may have known or suspected it, too, as when I was five or six you brought me to a therapist to resolve what I’m sure, at the time, you perceived as abnormalities in me. There was no “gay” at that time as I was too young really to have developed any sort of sexual identity; but I definitely identified as being a girl, I distinctly remember that. You could not support me then, and I get that. It was a different time in the seventies, and I think you just didn’t know what to do with me or how to help me grow into and be my authentic self. I don’t fault you for that, but not having your support definitely made life very challenging for me, make no mistake.
Fortunately, I was able to find the inner strength and resolve to focus on productive things, like school, that I knew would eventually afford me opportunities to move on in life on my own terms. I was able to endure the bullies at school (and at home—in fact, especially at home), but one can only be called “faggot” or “gay” so many times before one begins to subscribe to and identify with that mode of existence. Even still, I resisted acting on any of that until my early 20s, when I’d reached a point where I couldn’t take the loneliness anymore and needed to connect with others. I needed to figure things out. And, as you know, I lived as a gay male for nearly thirty years. Although it never really felt right to me, at least it allowed me to find love and a life-partner in Eric. But, again, one can only endure the unhappiness of a false life for so long.
My time came earlier this year, when I suddenly realized: I’m 51 years old; I’m in a committed relationship (I told Eric about this, years ago, long before we were married, and has always loved and encouraged me to be my authentic self); I have reached what will likely be the pinnacle of my professional career, and now live and work in a very progressive, accepting, and supportive environment. It was time for me to stop being miserable, stop drinking to the point of intoxication every night just to numb my pain, and start living. So, I discussed it with Eric, and in January of this year, I made the decision to move forward with transitioning.
From there, I found a wonderful doctor here in Long Beach, and started hormone replacement therapy—daily doses of estradiol and spironolactone (a testosterone-blocker); my doctor has also recently added in progesterone to the mix. I found an amazing therapist who has been helping me through the process, including dealing with past traumas. I’ve undergone months of laser hair removal, which is very painful and rather expensive, as well as some other cosmetic procedures to feminize my face. I’ve lost about 30 pounds, found a great wig shop, and have completely replaced my wardrobe. I’ve “come out” as a trans woman to everyone who is important to me, including everyone at work, and am now living 100% of the time as myself, a woman. I have also legally changed my gender and my name (to Madeline, or Maddie for short, as clearly you saw on Facebook). Lastly, I anticipate having gender reassignment surgery (GRS) within the coming year.
I’m happy to say that I’ve received nothing but love and support from everyone I’ve shared this with, including all of my colleagues and the students at school. It’s been a very challenging year; hard, scary, emotional. But I’m finally in a place, after more than fifty years, where I feel at peace with and actually love myself. I am happier now than I’ve ever been, and I’m looking forward to the next phase of my journey.
I know this is a lot to take in, and no doubt you have questions. Like I said above, though, if it’s not something you can accept, that is your decision. For me, it’s something that I have always lived with but until recently have suppressed just to survive. Fifty years is a long time to suffer—too long! Obviously, I’m done with all that. I deserve to live, to be happy, and thrive, and I’m proud of myself for having the courage to at last be me.
If you are going to be part of my life again, there are some ground rules: (1) I am Madeline (or, preferably, Maddie), never Matthew or Matt; (2) my pronouns are she/her/hers; (3) I have no interest in knowing aboutanyone else in the family—that ship sailed long ago—so don’t even mention them to me; (4) I am not interested in having you convey any of this to anyone in the family; if anyone is interested, they can take it up with me directly.
So, if you’re on board with all of the above, please feel free to call, text, email or write to me if you want to. If not, that’s perfectly fine, too. Either way, no pressure— I’m moving on with my life and fully intend to thrive.
I hope you’re well, and wish you much peace and happiness.
Love,
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