Setting: It’s mid-December 2018. My mother and her husband are planning on coming for Christmas and while I am not quite ready I am also growing increasingly uncomfortable with my mother not knowing about this significant revelation though it is only six weeks old.

I have always preferred an actual crisis over tolerating the anticipation of the possible.

I consider waiting to talk to her in person but I am certain I can’t stand not binding for even a day and that if I do bind, she will want an explanation. She shares my preference to avoid anticipation. I knew she loved me and that it would either be immediately okay or it soon would be. I also knew I wasn’t strong enough to witness her initial reaction.

I think about sending a letter but not having control over knowing when it would be delivered, when she would see it, I can’t handle that. I consider calling her but…if she pauses…if she starts crying…I can’t handle that either. I want to provide her the opportunity to have her own genuine reaction while protecting my suddenly fragile sense of self.

So I send an email. To stave off the anticipation of the possible next few hours? I go to the gym.

The plan is working perfectly until 45 minutes into my workout I realize the message is stuck in my outbox. I make sure it sends this time and extend my workout.

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I have important news to share with you.  I am sending you this email because it has taken 34 years to tell myself this information and it is hard to say out loud but I want our relationship to always be open and authentic and I greatly hope that I will be able to rely on you, as I always have, for emotional support.  I know that the timing isn’t the best, that you have a lot going on, but I can’t stand you not knowing.

I don’t have all the answers but what I do know is that continuing to try to live my life as female isn’t working for me.  It’s difficult to explain and sounds crazy and I don’t want it to be true. I don’t want to sacrifice any of the things I have worked so hard for… but this experience has been like unpacking a box, realizing that the contents are more than you can deal with right now, and then not being able to get all those pieces back in the box.  I can’t return the box and the contents are lying all around.

I have expended a lot of energy trying hard to live a different life and when I had to, because I just couldn’t take it anymore, taking a baby step to try to relieve the angst.  I feel incredibly privileged to be at a place in my life where I feel supported enough and secure enough to stop fighting this.

This may be surprising to you.  Let me assure you that I have spent a lot of energy not only trying to make it go away, but denying its existence and covering up these feelings.  About a month ago I finally admitted to myself how much this denial is impacting my quality of life. I cracked open the door, acknowledged there was something there worth doing something about and all of the rest of these suppressed feelings came flooding out.

I want to share some select feelings that I have so you have an idea of what I am talking about.  These are just samples of a lifetime of experiences.

I don’t know if you are aware of this, but for a year in college I went by a different name and lived a more gender fluid existence.  It was so freeing. Not sure if you remember this, but I approached you and Dad that spring and told you I wanted to change my name to something more androgynous.  I don’t remember your reaction but Dad’s was memorable. He told me that was the stupidest thing he had ever heard. All attempts I had made to try to correct the way people saw me – as female – were suddenly too scary.  It made my father too angry and I absolutely had to stop.

I don’t blame you or Dad.  We were all doing the best we could.  I say this more to provide context. To let you know I have felt this way for a very long time.  The example above was not the first.

My team and I were at a restaurant in New Orleans, we had separate checks.  The server came back and gave {Co-Worker A}’s card to {Co-Worker A}, {Co-Worker B} card to {Co-Worker B}, {Co-Worker C}’s card to {Co-Worker C} and then said, “{dead name broken into more syllables than necessary}??”  I was embarrassed to claim my card. I had been wearing a cap and hoodie, I think until that moment he assumed I was male – but now he knew. It’s difficult to explain.  It’s technically called dysphoria. What I do know is that it is not that I do not like my name – it is that it erases me. 15 years have passed since I talked to you and Dad about changing my name.  I think about it every day. Life is short and I have to do this. I hope you will understand. In honor of the name you gave me, I am legally changing my name to Jesse. In honor of your support for my love of music I am changing my middle name to Fitzgerald, as in Ella. 

 I am coming to understand that ‘this’ tension I have always felt between myself and others – this mismatch between how I feel vs how I am perceived and treated – this mismatch between how I see my body and how others see it – is called gender dysphoria.  There are resources to help explain this condition at PFLAG’s website, specifically this booklet and this video:

https://pflag.org/sites/default/files/Our%20Trans%20Loved%20Ones.pdf

https://www.pflag.org/genderbasicsrecording

I want to acknowledge that it is normal to experience grief with this news.  I hope you can find support. Again, PFLAG is a great resource.

When you come for Christmas you will notice that I am using a chest binder to reduce the prominence of my breasts.  The binders I use are specifically designed for this purpose and are not damaging. I want you to know that this makes me feel happier, more confident, and more comfortable.  I don’t feel like I have to slouch to try to hide my breasts.

I have been considering breast reduction surgery for a long time.  I told myself that that was because my giant breasts annoy me when I run, but that isn’t true.  I have always felt…invalidated by their presence – like they were denying me the opportunity to be the real me.  Like people would see me more clearly without them. I am currently exploring ‘top surgery’, a process where breast tissue is removed and the chest is ‘masculinized’.  I haven’t done all the research – I don’t have all the answers, but when I think about my shirts fitting the way I want them to – it is the sweetest and most thorough relief.  Like relaxing into a bath drawn just for you – just this incredible calm.

I feel certain that I want top surgery.  There are other steps to transitioning that I am exploring.  Again, I don’t have all the answers and I don’t know if those steps will be right for me.

{Wife} has been extremely supportive.  We haven’t spoken to the boys yet. In fact, only {Wife}, my doctor and therapist know.  I thought it was important to tell you next.

Please know that I am still your child.  Please take time to digest this information.  Please know this is also an emotionally overwhelming time for me.

I need your love and support.  I need you to believe me. This may seem contrary to your understanding of me – but it is true nonetheless. 

I very much hope to see you for Christmas.

I am heading to the gym now but will be back home between 6:30 and 7 if you want to talk tonight.  I also totally understand if you want a few days to process and then talk.

I love you forever and forever,

Still me (but handsomer)

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My phone buzzes. A text from my mom.