My story is a long one but let’s put it in short with great perspective. Put yourself in the shoes of an autistic five year old whom has yet to learn their potential and the cause for so much pain. My family’s last name was and still is Stranger so you can imagine how many bullies have tried the “We don’t talk to strangers” line with me. I had a stronger sense of logic more than the other kids just like my sister before me. The thing is though; I was the very different one. I wasn’t diagnosed by a social security psychiatrist until around July of 2011. So as this five year old even until past the age of sixteen. I was non-verbal. My parents fought often because my dad having heart failure and was ready to give up.
At a young age I was ready to give up as well and it followed me heavily. As this non-verbal kid I couldn’t just tell my parents that I preferred boy clothes over girl clothes and that putting me in these dresses was killing me mentally and physically. I was so stressed out my intestines failed to work. Doctors put me on every medication to try to fix me. I have been poked,prodded, x-rayed, sonogramed, ct scanned and brain scanned to death nearly. Yet no one could tell my parents early on that I had lumbar sacralisation.
All these years I feared my dad because he thought being physical with me which was the norm back then was the real answer. I used to be so afraid to say “I don’t know” to the point of heavily educating myself on every subject out there. Before I was eighteen still suffering silently to the point of dropping to ninety-nine pounds in weight, loosing my eyebrows and my will to carry on even further despite having only two true friends in my life.
October, 2011; I was having cardiac pain during high school. I was taking a lot of pain medicine every day and my school probably thought I was addicted to them. It wasn’t just cardiac pain though it was mental and it was worsening the pain I felt from my hips to my ankles because when stressed out I tensed my leg muscles. At the time I was doing it without revealing that it was also crushing my sciatic nerves more. I’d often come home and collapse on the floor of my room in such pain. Being dead named but also not having a preferred name and being called She/Her. It all hurt so much but I didn’t have the definition for it and no idea how to access this information. Do I search it at school while I have free time with my social worker and get sent to a psyche ward or even a group home? I just wanted to be left alone until the end of my days.
It was adding up quickly and there wasn’t just a zipper or pocket I could open up and let all the words flood out like the ocean. I’ve been through so many therapists and psychologists in my life and I just had to keep repeating myself because they would change the person on me or don’t even listen. So I kept a journal. I have them all from 2008 to now still. All the times I’ve tried to end my story and have always failed because I couldn’t let my mum be by herself.
Some time in July I went to see a surgeon to have my legs removed because the pain was too great for me to walk especially wearing pain patches, ace bandages and duct taping them on just as I’d used duct tape and medical tape to flatten my chest. I’d even punch my chest trying to flatten it. Wore the tape over 24 hours if spending the night somewhere just to hide this awful weight I’ve been cursed with on my chest. I was taking any pain medicine I could find that wasn’t prescription.
The surgeon tried all he could but didn’t seem that experienced in what he was trying to do. Finally November, 2nd of 2011 came and I had emergency surgery because the surgeon found a tumor in my pelvis. I was hoping he would just take it all out if you know what I mean then I I’d never have to deal with this monthly painful nightmare on top of intestinal failure. After three pitiful days of recovery alone in the hospital because my mum had to keep working to survive bankruptcy from when my dad passed in 2005. It was discharge time and I was ready to go home and be with my best friend, Stella. My lovely cockatiel service pet. The surgeon presented us with a photo of a healthy red lump bigger than two fits together. He said “we had to cut you open further because the mass was bigger than we thought. We sent it for testing and it came back non cancerous. It was your spleen and we don’t know how it ended up there while still attached. We know it must have fell, twisted and filled with blood.” and I was in shock but not as much as my mum.
I know this had blocked my intestines from working for a while but not years. Still no one told me about my sacralisation. It wasn’t until about 2014 after being illegally evicted from our home and harassed heavily by a person from the Heartland Bank. I had found a wonderful doctor and I started to trust doctors again but slowly. At this time I had a definitive title for this mental mystery surrounding me. I am a transgender man with autism… no I am an autistic transgender man and proud of myself for how far I’ve came but still so hopeless.
I tried to seek help from my new doctor but didn’t get anywhere. Once again hopeless I tried to search for answers but they were all jumbled and I couldn’t understand. Not only that but I couldn’t ask for help because…who is there for help?! Years later with more meltdowns and even less a will to survive. I continued for my mum and my kindergarten lover whom was now my life partner. They didn’t even know their identity either and was more at a loss than I.
Going to anime conventions used to be my release but the Knopf cons proven to be unsafe after a while so I quit them and was back in that darkness. I was working my hands to the bone just to ignore my real issues. I tried to take on others’ problems just to satisfy myself. It was so very wrong and I was abused by whom I thought was my friend and I accidentally ignored someone whom was begging for my help but now she’s gone because of her awful ex partner and his family. Which Facebook let them harass her to death. So I withdrawn from socialising to try to solve myself.
Early this year I tried again to work on my transition even if I had to do it by myself. I given up hope before because I didn’t have a spleen and thought I could never get HRT or such because of this problem but no. It did not stop me. I researched deep and heavily to also provide this information for others with underlying conditions. This song quote from Motionless In White echoing through my mind as I fight for my right to live. “If you mean it…you’ll make it.”
I dug my claws deep into research. Sorting truth from false information; I made many phone calls despite my intense fear of being misgendered. I did breakdown several times but got back up and searched again. Holding on for dear life I just couldn’t give up. Who will clean up my mess if I’m not there to stabilise everything? Who will take care of my partners? Who will take care of my mum? No one! That’s who! No one will clean up after your mess if you decide to end your story. So what if you survive your decision… you’ll be in a worse place with no escape.
So there is no giving up because someone is out there and they care. There are things your not thinking about that require your existence. You can save another life if you save you first. I’m still pre-T as I right this and awaiting top surgery in 2022. I’ve decided to focus on my physical health and my mental health is better. If I chosen to end my story then that poor person crying out for help in a small store because she was about to loose her hands to the cold. She wouldn’t have hands because no one would stop to help her and there were no gloves.
I let her put her hands on my chest to warm her hands. I gave up my gloves so she could survive and she did. She thanked me and called me young man. I didn’t think to grab oven mittens. I just jumped into action without thought. You can jump into action and save yourself too. There’s always someone out there who cares but also those who pretend to care. Be your devil’s advocate but also your godsend light.
Check out some of our awesome Transgender t-shirt ranges here.