The magic portal: an almost empty promise.

It’s an odd thing being transgender as a child with no knowledge of gender. I had a concept of boys and girls and was aware of some of the differences but only in the way a small child could be. So what was it exactly about girls that made me wish I had been born as one? I honestly could not tell you at this point.

What I do remember is wanting to be one. I remember going to bed every night and staring at the space between the two window panes in my bedroom. I focused on the black metal of the frame, darker than anything else in the room, even with the lights off, and I prayed. I stared at that spot every night as I went to bed and prayed it was secretly a portal and that if I could just go through it, I would come out the other side a girl.

I guess even as a child though, reality set in and I gave up on that fool’s dream. I knew that no matter how much I wanted that to be possible, there was no way I could become a girl. And eventually I stopped praying that prayer and stopped dreaming that dream.

I gave up on myself for 20 some-odd years and finally woke back up on the other side. It may not have been a portal in the sense I imagined with the wonderful and beautiful imagination of a child but it was a portal…in a sense.

When I gave up on myself, I hid that part of me, the deepest realest part of me, and developed another persona. That persona was the vessel by which I traversed the portal. Tucked away in my own mind, I rode out the years almost forgetting who I really was and in some ways, never really learning who I was.

But I still did it. I managed to survive the journey, I made it through the portal and have come out the other side a woman.

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