Jane

A 40 years old transgendered woman struggling with life and seeking the attention of her only son.

     I woke up today with the idea of writing my story, for maybe one day my son will read it and know how hard I tried to find myself and find him.

     I am Jane Pistol, forty years old living alone in a small apartment, currently unemployed and looking for a job. Ten years ago I made a decision that changed my whole life and coast me a lot, I lost my job, my friends and family and I ended up here alone. I thought I would be happy after that decision, but it was a movement from a miserable state to another.

     I was born John Pistol, the younger son, my brothers Jack and George, who are twins, are three years older. Our home wasn’t big, but it was comfy and warm.

     I was always different than the other boys; I did not get along with my brothers and their friends. I was close to my father, we shared the same passion for music and we spent a lot of time together. Everyone said I was soft and sensitive “Such a sweet boy, better than your useless brothers” what my grandmother used to say because I always helped her. I loved helping my mother cleaning and cooking... I loved helping people in general. I have never hurt anyone and I was always the good boy.

     When I was twelve my friends brought this magazines with pictures of women, it was Billy who stole it from his elder brother. He was bragging about having the magazine and took money from other boys so they can see it. We all gathered to see; while everyone was busy checking out breasts and bottoms I was fascinated by lingerie’s and their faces. I wasn’t into makeup rather than the softness of their skin and lips, I knew then that is how I want my skin and lips to be… Perfect!

     As soon as I got home, I started looking at the mirror checking my face and lips, feeling my skin, my hands weren’t that soft. I started buying beauty magazines the next day, and within two weeks I knew how to get the perfect skin and lips and knew how take care of it. I never told anyone about this and it wasn’t a noticeable change, my skin got brighter and softer, so as my lips.

     At the same year my father passed away, it felt like a huge part of me has gone with him. He died in a car accident on his way back home. I cried for weeks, I did not eat or sleep and I stopped listening to music as it was connected to him only. I had to see a psychiatric to live normally again. I wasn’t that close to my mother as I did with my father, but we were good friends, because I spent time with her at the kitchen and I got closer to her.

     It was when I was thirteen I met Amanda at school, who was so cool and fun, the opposite of who I am. We were so close that everyone thought we were young lovers. One day I went to her house after school, and we played in her tiny tint that her father made for her. All our time was spent on dancing, playing cards or chess and sometimes we just talked about everything. That specific day she decided to put lipstick on me saying “You have a girl’s lips” I smiled… I wasn’t offended. Stupid me forgot it was there and went back home, my mother saw it. “John! Is that lipstick on your mouth?!”

“Oh! I… I forgot about that… It’s Amanda…”

“Why did she even put it on!!” She was mad and yelling at me

“… we were just playing mother”

She pulled me from the ear and dragged me to the kitchen’s sink and washed it off “Are you a girl! Do you think it’s funny to wear makeup and walk the streets?”

    You see, my family was a bit religious and strict. And what Amanda and I did was a big mistake to them, even though we were just playing. My mother forced me to stop seeing Amanda, but still we talked at school and I told her what happened.

     After what happened with Amanda my mother noticed the difference between me and my brothers, even though I was always the same. They connected my behavior with the death of father. She kept saying that I have to man up, and that I look too feminine.

     Years passed and I lived the way my family wanted, I got married when I was 23 to Helen who’s the daughter of my mother’s friend, they both arranged our marriage. And at the first year of our marriage we had Paul, my only son and it was the only moment I felt so happy for the first time in my life.

     Paul looked a lot like me when I was a toddler, I made sure that he had the best toys, the best schools and I wanted everything to be perfect for him. Helen and I never had that happy marriage and for many times I slept in the living room, but Paul was the only good thing that made our life full of joy and laughter. Her and I we never really bonded, but I guess we both wanted Paul to grow up with both mummy and daddy.

     One day we took a vocation and travelled to Paris. I was sitting at the swimming pool watching people passing by, the boy who came out of the pool with a bleeding knee, the couple hugging each other and the girl dancing to the music. I heard a voice behind my back “Hey!” I looked and saw this tall beautiful woman, “You look miserable, something is eating your mind?” she said.

“I don’t know, maybe” I had no words to say

“I was watching you” she sat next to me “I see something is missing in your life”

     We spent hours talking, her name was Tasha, who was born Kevin! Yes, she was a man. Even though I did not know her well, I told her my story and how I always felt different, I told her things I never a soul. She asked me to see a doctor saying I might be just like her. Before I met her I did not know that this kind of transition is possible. Ever since what happened with my mother, the way she reacted and the therapy I ignored every emotion I had. I had to man up, get married like my brothers and live a normal life.

     “This is what is making so sad, you had to live a life that is not yours” Tasha said.

“But what about my wife and son?”

“I’m sure they’ll understand if you talk to them.”

     I took her advice and went to see a doctor after reading more about gender, which explained a lot of my behavior. I was 30 when I decided to change, to be who I really am. I didn’t tell Helen or anyone because I was afraid they might talk me out of it, I did everything on my own with the help of Tasha’s therapist.

     My voice was always soft and feminine, my skin and lips were as soft as it were years ago, I didn’t have much hair on my skin, and my Adam’s apple didn’t exist. So my transition wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, and with hormone replacement therapy my breast started to grow. And every time I looked in the mirror I smiled, this is who I am.

     I did not see the consciences of my action, and I didn’t realize that I might hurt my family. And when Helen noticed I confessed and opened up to her about my feelings and the things I kept hiding. She got mad and kicked me out of the house and told me if I wanted to come back and see my son, I have to be a man. She told my family who literally abandoned me and told me not to visit them or even bother to call. I couldn’t be a man… I have tried my whole life to be a man, to make others happy… I just couldn’t anymore.

     I was totally alone, even my friends stopped talking to me saying I was a homosexual.

     Helen and I got divorced, she moved to New York and I never saw Paul again.

     I was 35 when I became fully a woman, a new ID and a new life, Paul was already twelve. I went to visit them and let them meet me; Jane. I was kicked out and my son clearly stated that he hates me “We want you out of our lives for good, my father is dead, and we don’t want you to even think about us. I hate you, I just hate you” he said. He shut the door and I just stood there not knowing what to do.

     As I heard from his mother, he was bullied at school for having a f****t father. He hated me so much that he was happy to move and tell his new friends that his father is dead.

     As for Helen, she forgave me, but couldn’t handle to be around me. She wanted me away from Paul to protect him. She said that she has always felt that there was something about me but she was afraid to know, most of our fights were because she knew I was different and I was hiding something.

     The amount of pain that was inside me was indescribable, I couldn’t even cry and I had no one to talk to. Every time I told someone my story, about John, they freak out and give the hint that I deserve what happened. So I stopped making friends and avoided people. I did not want to go to any therapist either, I had enough of them. I kept getting fired every couple months from a job to another; it was so hard to keep a job due to my depression and anxiety.

     I love my son more than anything in this world, and I wish if there was a way to make him accept me as friend or at least listen to me. I kept trying to see him, invite him to dinner and talk. I tried to convince him to meet me as a new friend, not the father he lost… he never answered.

     Five years has passed since the last time I saw him, five years I spent in loneliness and sadness. I still write letters to him, every birthday, every holiday and send gifts to him… but I’m not sure if he liked them or threw them away. But now they moved again, and I don’t know where to, and I have no address. Still I will write and keep them, maybe one day my dear Paul will find them. Maybe he will find this notebook and remember me.

     Dear Paul if you’re reading this… I want you to know that I am sorry. I know I caused you trouble and you probably still hate me. I loved you and I loved your mother more than anything. I’m looking at those pills and thinking, is this another stupid painful decision I make.

     I won’t live to see what this decision would do, so I’m sorry… I tried to hold on, I wanted to live to see you grow old and have many kids… John wasn’t accepted and loved; he was too feminine and awkward, so as Jane, she wasn’t accepted and loved; she was a… freak and unwanted. I am sorry.

 

 

      “And as I kiss the memory of your goodnight
I'm beginning to see the light...”