Kristelle's Story: Childhood Dreams... and Nightmares

Last I left off with was a thought about how my mother's protective nature got progressively worse over time. Let me just explain how protective she was. My mother is a planner. She formulates a series of things that need to be done to create a certain outcome. Sometimes when the plans she makes aren't followed through, or the outcome isn't what she expected...she becomes upset. Which is fair... most of us can get upset when we don't get our way, especially about the things we most deeply want.

So one of the things my Mom really wants is to be seen as a good mother. How does she achieve that? By having well-behaved children, that are well clothed, and fed. So we had to be well behaved and my mom made parenting choices she thought would influence that. Sometimes she made these decisions from her own opinion and other times it was made as a result of something that we did as kids. For example, my mom decided that we shouldn't have cable in the house. Partially because she thought we couldn't afford it, but also because she thought there was too much on TV that could poison a child's mind. To expound upon that opinion, she also didn't let us watch anything that was above rated G until we were 12 and PG until we moved to my sister's dad's house(whom I will hence more refer to as my Dad, and my biological father as my Father.) Unless it was otherwise approved by her. Or it was by Disney. Other cartoons were at her approval. Books were strongly encouraged but also at her approval. No toys that were loud...or messy. When we played inside we had to do so at a reasonable volume. When we played outside we couldn't leave the street, which at times would turn into the yard. We could only listen to approved music. Candy and soda were considered treats. We rarely had friends over, we rarely went other places to spend the night unless it was a relative's house. We weren't allowed to play with toy guns...which to this day blows my mind. Someone so conservative didn't like guns.

Ok, ok...so I realize a lot of that sounds like a complaint. And sure when I was a kid, all those things...definitely were complained about at some point or another. But as an adult, I realize that most of it was just her parenting style, and was decided with reasonably good intentions. The point is
that seemed to work for her for the most part. Of course in our teenage years, we would have moments of rebellion and do stuff anyway. But we tried not to inspire mom's anger with us. But in our early years as children and in our adolescence, she seemed to have a pretty good hold on how to be a parent. I mean don't get me wrong, she definitely had moments that challenged her expectations of parenthood. I mean she did have a little boy that would get caught wearing girls clothes, or that would take their sisters dolls...to play with not to rip the heads off of. A kid whose little green army men made peace deals and whose action figures sat in semi-circles and voted on superlatives about one another. A boy who walked around on his tiptoes as if he was wearing high heels. But even that she felt she could control. Just take it away and punish me somehow when caught and it would just phase out...right?

When I was 7 years old something happened to me that no one expected and it went undiscovered for two years. I was molested by one of my neighbors older children. He would do things to me of a sexual nature and give me gifts in exchange for secrecy. It was a confusing time. Of course, I didn't know what we were doing. I knew it felt weird, I knew it seemed weird. I didn't understand the whole bit on secrecy but hey I liked the toys. It was realized by accident. One Sunday morning, my sister comes upstairs and tells me "Mommy and Daddy said it's time to get ready for church."

To which I replied, "Ok but we can't be there too long because I have to come back and have sex with the next door neighbor." (At the time I was specific as to whom that was). A nine-year-old said this to a seven-year-old. Let that sink in for a moment. My sister shrugged her shoulders and went downstairs and regurgitated what I said, word for word. In a way that makes my sister the hero in this part of my story, regardless of how innocently her part was performed. Way to go sis.

Needless to say, we didn't go to church that day. The pastor came over and I think a couple other people came over talked with my parents, talked to me...and thus began my life in therapy. Though it was never brought up in therapy at that time, the situation of my gender identity persisted. One day when I was in fourth grade, I "borrowed" some makeup from my Mom and sister and took it with me to school. I asked the counselor in the before and after school program if she would help me put it on almost as soon as my parents left. She looked surprised, but obliged and asked me lots of questions about why I wanted to do this and if my parents knew. She had the other counselors focus on the rest of the kids, while she focused on me and what I wanted to do.

Once school started, I washed it all off because a few other kids made fun of me. Later during class another kid who heard what I did, exposed me to everybody in class and made fun of me for it. I didn't understand why they all laughed. Especially the girls. Why did they laugh? I mean all them were starting to like and play with makeup, what was wrong with me doing it. I didn't get it. Later when my parents came to pick me up from school, my teacher and the counselor from the before and after school program approached my parents and explained what had happened throughout the day. It was decided I would see the school counselor once a week as part of a group, and once a month on my own. But other events that took place in school and at home, quickly filled up time in those sessions, leaving the School Counselor no time to focus on the issue of my gender identity.