When I was younger, I was always the awkward one. I never fit in with the girls, but the guys didn't want a chick in their group. I used to always ask my mum "Why dosen't anyone like me?" And she'd tell me, "Sweetheart, everyone loves you, they're all just jealous that they can't be as amazing as you."
This always made me feel better. However, I'm older now, and I now know that that was a lie she told me in hopes that I'd be normal eventually.
I'm Skye, and this is my story.
Growing up, I lived in a rather religious home. I was always expected to have perfect manners, wear cute dresses that weren't slutty, and never play in the mud. I never liked that, but I loved my parents so I just put up with it. My parents were very busy people though, so I was often sent to stay at Nana and Papa's home. I loved my Nana very much. She let me wear whatever, run around, climb trees, get dirty, and scream and shout. She spoiled me very much. I didn't like my Papa as much. He was like my parents, and often called me a little shit or just yelled at me in Russian. He had his nice moments though.
Eventually though, I had to live with my Nana and Papa. My parents were in a terrible car accident when I was 6 or 7. I used to live in England, but after my parents died my Nana and Papa wanted to get away from our tiny little town in England. We moved to Alabama.
I hated Alabama. There weren't many people, and it was mostly old people. I got teased even more in middle school because I didn't wear girly clothes anymore. I got called things like "Dyke" or "Butch lesbian". It was awful. It got even worse in high school. I'd come home one day with a black eye, but a huge grin on my face. My Nana asked me how I could be smiling so big with such a bad wound, and I told her someone called me "Sir". That's how I got landed in therapy.
But then again, it's also brought me to where I am today. During therapy, I got diagnosed with GID. Gender Identity Dissorder. My therapist, Lucy, she told me about other who had GID. There were those who were bigendered, where they had two genders pretty much. I thought about this, but I knew I wasn't bigendered.
Then she told me about transgenders...this caught my interest. It was then that I realized I needed to be a boy. Not that I WANTED to be a boy, but I NEEDED to. It was who I am.
After I realized this, I told my Nana, and at first she was a little shocked, but she accepted me. She took me to get my hair cut, and we went and bought some male clothes. I was no longer "Skylar", I was "Skye", and I was happy.
However, "Skye" didn't go down so well at my school. The name calling got worse, I got stuff thrown at me, someone even broke my arm. It was after I got my arm broken that my Nana decided it was time to move....oh joy.
