Openly Trans

I grew up in rural Florida. All I heard was that I needed to be more feminine. That the “phase” I’m going through (being a tomboy) would pass. I dressed as masculine as possible the majority of the time. I’d always known myself to be a rambunctious boy. Female puberty didn’t help. I didn’t know whether to speak up or not. I never did knowing what people would say. It was a highly religious and bigoted area after all. To be even slightly LGBTQ+ was sinful. I was already looked at differently for being “too much of a tomboy” by nearly everyone I’d known most of my life. I didn’t understand why people who claimed to be Christian wasn’t practicing what they preached. They weren’t loving people for who they were. It didn’t help that people often attributed it to the fact my mother died when I was a kid. I was barely a teenager when she died. Her unexpected death from a Brain Aneurysm shocked everyone. 
She’d grown up in the area her and dad were raising me in. She’d been a Teacher and Basketball coach for just as long. She’d been fine the day before. She’d begun feeling unwell as the day went on though. I knew something was wrong. I hoped it was just something she caught since it wasn’t long after the school year started. He’d taken me to school that morning unsure of what was going on with her. He’d gone back to check on her before going to work. He found her barely alive. He picked me up and told me everything on the way to the hospital. She died six days later.

“What now?” I asked Adam
“You get through it, somehow” he replied
“How?” I’d sobbed
“I don’t have an answer to that question. We’ll figure it out. I’m always here for you” being his only response
“I know. Thank you” I’d said through the tears

I’d finally left the town that never loved me behind. I’d moved to South Florida with dad after he remarried. To a Narcissistic woman who hadn’t changed. The one thing I’d known about her was that she was a negative Nancy. I’d warned him it wouldn’t go so well. I’d even walked out of the wedding that was sprung on me. It seemed like nearly everyone else there knew about it. I showed my disapproval, that I was against it and walked out. He hadn’t even mentioned to me that they were together. He knew how I’d react though. He just wasn’t expecting me to tell him that my mother would be ashamed of him for doing what he did. I’d found myself as well as my people after moving to South Florida. I lived with one of his siblings. Until tensions arose because of my inability to find a job. I was loved for who I am after meeting people and sharing my story. I came out as a Trans man, began transitioning, and began speaking out. I’d become a Speaker for the organization I’d reached out to for help. They helped me find a job. They’d even helped me find a studio apartment in Miami Beach. Until everything changed. Until what I said would happen actually happened. 

“I’m so proud of you” Max said 
“Thanks, I’m proud of myself. I didn’t think I’d make it this far in life” I replied
“Here you are though” he smiled
“Yeah. I’m gonna miss it here” I grimly replied
“We’re gonna miss you” Chris mentioned 
”I’m gonna miss you everyone too. I’ll come back for a visit” I sighed
”You better!” Addie laughed
”I plan to” I giggled

I knew I wouldn’t be able to be openly Trans when we moved back. Dad already wasn’t accepting of who I am. I didn’t care. I was going to be as open as I could be. I kept to myself most of the time. I found a few LGBTQ+ people in the area. I would do things with them all the time. They helped me become more comfortable in my skin. They loved me for who I am despite the rest of the county seeing us as Mentally Ill or going through a phase. Typically both at the same time though. None of us cared. I’d cut contact with my relatives after their actions spoke for them. I said what I needed to say to them before I cut all contact with them. They showed me they’d never loved me anyway. I’d kept to myself after that. The few friends I had moved away for better opportunities. I’d never felt so alone. I’d made friends through Social Media that helped me through everything. 

We’d moved into a two bedroom two bath apartment near everything I wanted. I’d applied for jobs everywhere I could. My lack of experience along with having Epilepsy didn’t help. I’d never driven a day in my life. It wasn’t safe for me to do even though my seizures were under control. I worked enough while in South Florida that I hadn’t been too worried when dad and I moved back home. It didn’t seem to be good enough. I lucked out and found a minimum wage job as a Dishwasher. The hours weren’t great. I worked barely enough to cover the bare essentials. I saved whatever money I had after that. Dad, as usual, kept lying to me. About nearly everything. He unnecessarily lied to me. I saw things with his health that I knew he needed to deal with. Things he didn’t see as a big deal. The result of that being he didn't things checked out things that needed to be checked out. I'd shame him every chance I got. I’d tell him what he said didn’t make sense. That he needed to explain why he said what he said. Vague responses or not being able to angered me. He couldn’t even look at me when I confronted him. That alone told me everything I needed to know. He wasn’t taking care of himself like he needed to. I was certain he had Dementia to some degree. He was having more trouble with simple things. He couldn’t figure out the simplest things after a while. He refused to acknowledge anything was wrong with his health. Even though there were blatant signs that something was wrong. A doctor's visit I went to with him changed everything though.  

“You’re pathetic! You’ve been lying to me and this amazing doctor this entire time. My mother would be ashamed of you” I screamed at him
”It’s-“ he started
”It IS a big deal! You’ve not told me anything that he just said. God forbid something happens I wouldn’t be able to tell the EMTs a damn thing” I yelled back at him
”He’s got a point” Dr. Adams replied
”Thank you!” I said through the tears
”In all honesty, I'm placing you under a 5150. You DON’T have a choice. I’m walking you over myself” Dr. Adams calmly said
”And I’m going home to pack up and leave. I don’t care that I’m going to be homeless when I get to where I’m going. I have friends I can stay with until I get on my feet. You’re entirely on your own from this point forward. I know that’s not what you want to hear Dr. Adams. However, I’m no longer willing to stay in a place where he likely won’t listen to me after the three days are up” I said through the tears
“Fine by me. He’ll probably go into a care facility anyway if your theories and mine are correct” being his only response
”Fine by me” I said

I’d already gotten rid of everything I knew I wouldn’t need. I’d packed up everything I knew I could pack. In the event of something like this happening. It took me the rest of the day to wash the dirty clothes I had and pack everything else in the meantime. I left the next day knowing I’d be in a far happier place. That happier place being South Florida obviously. One day later I was in Miami Beach. I’d let everyone know I was moving back. I hadn’t yet told them why. Or that I was going to likely be homeless until I found a job and a place. I didn’t care that I'd be homeless for a little while after getting there. I managed to book a hotel room for a month hoping I’d have a job by the end of that month. I’d somehow saved enough to do that. I’d bought the bare essentials I’d need over time knowing this scenario could happen. Three months passed before I found a job. A Dishwasher at one of the many restaurants. The hours and pay were decent enough. It wasn’t enough for me to afford a place right away though. I’d kept everything I had in a place nobody would look. I’d sit across from a bar with Drag Shows most days. Drawing. People loved what they saw. People who bought my work. I saved all of it in hopes of being able to procure a place. 

I eventually booked a private room for two months at a Hostel. I hoped to have enough money by the end of the two months for a studio apartment nearby. I didn’t mind having a studio. That’s all I really wanted. It’s all I really needed anyway. By this point, I’d told everyone everything. They understood why I’d not said anything. I’d not been on the streets for long after all. What mattered was that I was in a far better place in my life. I was finally happy. I was openly Trans. I had been able to get the adequate healthcare I needed. Dr. Adams sent a video message to me letting me know what was going on. That dad did in fact have Dementia. He’d been placed in a care facility. Friends had helped him get rid of everything he couldn’t take with him to the facility. He mentioned how appalled they were when they were told everything. They’d realized it was too late to tell me sorry. I’d not even spoken to anyone after I left aside from letting them now I was okay. That I’d found a job. They realized I’d moved on with my life after Dr. Adams revealed everything. They didn’t bother to contact me after that. It told me everything I needed to know. I’d sent one back letting me know he did everything right. That he did what he knew was best. We wished each other luck and went about our lives. I’d decided to become a Public Speaker. To share my story.. I’d started by speaking at ORG again.