QUEER | tayley

i'm a walking travesty

A few weeks later, I'm sitting in my therapist's office once again. My mom has joined me for the beginning of the session, the three of us discussing how I've been in the last few weeks. My mom gladly talks about how I've appeared to be happier recently, even with a new school adding to my stress. She blames the new medication that I have been taking, but I don't think that's why. Eventually, my mom leaves the room so my therapist and I can talk on our own.

"So, really, how have you been?" my therapist asks.

"Good, actually," I say to her for what feels like the first time ever, a rare smile present on my face. She raises a curious brow, assuming that there must be something more to the story. She has known me long enough to realize that there has to be something causing this newfound happiness. I feel compelled to explain.

"I met someone. Her name is Hayley and we've been talking. I originally met her in a club at school that I started going to. The next day, Zac wasn't in school so I was alone at lunch. She saved me from my misery by joining me and sitting with me for the entirety of the lunch period. We traded numbers and have been talking since. We text occasionally but we talk whenever we see each other at school."

"And this school club you're going to, what is it? How many meetings have you had?" she asks.

I explain the purpose of the club and inform her that we've only had one meeting so far, despite the fact that it's been weeks since our first (and only) one.

"So she knows that you're trans? Does she care?"

"Well...no. She doesn't know. She does know I'm bisexual and that I'm a boy, but she thinks I was born male, which is a confidence boost because it shows me that I'm able to pass as a cis male. I don't know, she's straight and I fear that if she were to find out, my chances would be ruined."

"She's going to find out eventually, Taylor," my therapist says to me, causing me to sigh.

"I know. I just don't know how to tell her."

We discuss Hayley and my situation in my new school for a bit longer. Eventually, she asks me a question that I was hoping she would forget to bring up.

"So, since I saw you last, any more self-harm? You seem to be feeling a bit better, but are you happy?"

I look down at my lap to avoid all eye contact. Eventually, I raise my gaze and tell her, "Yes, I have hurt myself. And no, I'm not feeling much better. I mean, yeah, it feels good to be around Hayley. When I'm with her, my issues seem to momentarily vanish. But that's just a distraction. She's not really helping me. Not in the long run, at least."

"Where did you do it?" she asks, referring to the self-harm. I gesture towards my right thigh, lightly running my hand over the jean covered area.

"How about suicidal thoughts?" she asks. My jaw clenches slightly and I once again look down.

"Haven't gone away. Every time I start feeling that way, I tell myself the same thing: 'I can't die in this body.' I don't want to be stuck like this forever. But there's also a voice in the back of my head that insists that there's no hope, that I may as well end it now because no matter what happens, I'm going to die like this, in this stupid body." I'm tearing up at this point, rapidly blinking in a so far successful attempt to resist crying.

She frowns. "Honey, you're not going to die like this. Your mother loves you and yes, I know it's taking her time to really accept this, but she does love you with all of her heart. She wouldn't be bringing you here if she didn't."

I slowly nod my head, tears streaming down my cheeks. Maybe she's right. But then again, what if she's wrong?