By

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I was always either really girly or a stone-cold tomboy as a child. There was really no in between- though I was more often than not wearing dresses and skirts and doing typically 'girly' things.

However, 'gender' was never a thought that came into my mind when I was younger. Life wasn't about gender roles- for me or for anybody. I played with dolls, I played with animal figures, I wore skirts, I wore jeans. I had girl friends, I had boy friends. It was only ever about being happy.

I always thought people should love other people for their personality, not just their gender (though I do still respect the heterosexuals who just aren't into the genitals of the same sex). I never really classified myself with a label, though. 5-year-old me certainly did not hear the words 'pansexual' or 'panromantic' being thrown around in 2007, and though I was only young, I knew that I didn't like just boys- despite never having a crush on a girl.

That's besides the point. The point is, I never used to identify as a boy. But I also never used to really make a huge fuss about being a girl. It wasn't something that I thought was a big deal, because it really shouldn't be. Of course, if somebody asked if I was a boy or a girl, I would reply with 'girl', because that's what I was at the time.

But come later years, I started to notice something very different about myself.

At age 11, I had started developing breasts. They were only small, but I hated them. They hurt and they didn't look right. I wanted my old flat chest back. Why did I have to have these lumps on my body?

My mother kept reminding me that I'm turning into a woman. My young 11-year-old self didn't want to be a woman if a woman had aching fat lumps. This was just exaggeration. I didn't think anything of it- surely, this was just a child complaining about a sore chest. That's all it was, right?

Nope.

2014 was the year it all came crumbling down. Specifically that April. I'd starting feel more and more hatred towards my body. Why were my hips so out there like that? Why was my voice so high? Why did I have boobs? It was all exaggeration, and though I've come to love my hips (still slightly self conscious about my voice, and let's not even discuss my breasts), at the age of 12, it was an utter disaster!

It started off small. Simple body hating- loads of girls and guys go through that. But then, it skyrocketed.

I would look at my naked form and hate it, especially what was between my legs. I never knew why I hated it, I just did. It annoyed me so much; I didn't want it there.

I tried pushing these thoughts away, but they simply kept coming back.

It steamrolled on to hating my school uniform- a dress in the summer and a skirt in the winter. It wasn't the fact that it was a dress/skirt, because I loved dresses and skirts! It was the fact that it was the girls' uniform. Only the girls would wear it. I would look around my school and see only girls wearing it. I felt so...out of place.

The bathrooms were a major part of it as well. Every time I went in there, I would feel so wrong and disgusted. Like I was not meant to be in there. Something was wrong and it was beginning to really annoy me.

I had started wondering if I was even a girl anymore. This was the first time I'd really thought about gender and what it meant. Was I a girl? I mean, what kind of girl would feel so weird about doing 'girl' things? It was stressing me out, and I was beginning to wonder if I was transgender. I did not know a whole lot about the trans* community, but I had enough knowledge to understand the general basics.

This is when I had started freaking out. I can't be transgender. It would cause so many problems within myself and those around me. Boy, was I right...

I kept it to myself for a couple months, and my mental health dropped through the ground. But, as to not bother anybody, I kept a smile on my face (I realise now that I certainly should have told my parents the minute I'd begun experiencing these feelings- it would've prevented so many issues that occur today).

Eventually, I talked to one of my friends. We'll call her Bree. I discussed my body image as well as my fear of the future issues if I were transgender. Bree was nice, she told me to wait it out. To see if it was just a phase. I had hoped it was, but it just wasn't.

My feelings grew. I'd started thinking about gender more times in an hour than I ever had in my entire childhood. I tried to imagine what it would be like to be a boy- every time I did, I would get so unbelievably happy that it scared me.

I can't be a boy. Mum and Dad asked for two girls and raised them both as girls. I can't just waltz up to them and say 'hey, your daughter feels like a boy'. That would be ridiculous.

For over two years, I hated myself for feeling like a boy. It was so awful, that I rarely talk about it to anybody other than my psychologist. I hate thinking about it, but I feel that it's a significant part of my journey. At the beginning of 2016, I told myself finally that I should not be ashamed of being transgender.

That April I came out to my parents and well, it didn't go too well but that's a story for another time.