This post is PART 9 in a guest blogger series following author Rachael's transition from an A.M.A.B (Assigned Male at Birth) individual to that of a self-identified trans woman.
If you are just discovering Queer as me, start the story from the beginning here.
I wish I could tell you what happened next, but even I am not totally sure. What I do know is that while on my drive to eliminate my friend, and possibly his son as well, something changed. The best way I can explain it was like a “break” a shattering of my mind that caused me to violently pull off the highway, and drive into the ditch. I sat there shivering and shaking, my mind and heart racing, I screamed, howled, and the sound of anguish in my voice startled me awake. It was like a cold splash of water to my psyche, I turned and looked at the knife still sitting on the passenger seat, and the realization dawned on me with what I had almost done. The fear, the total and complete shock that I had been able to think, much less commit murder without a second thought drove me to throw out the knife into the surrounding bushes.
As I sat there, the shivering and shaking subsided. A clarity cold and precise, told me that I had to stop the therapy, if I wanted to be a sane person, I had to stop NOW. But I was afraid, what if my family and church found out? They would not allow me to stop, so there on the side of a busy highway, I started to plan my escape. I had to. I would not allow anyone to make me into that “thing” that monster that almost did the unspeakable. I slowly got back on the highway and turned back to home. It was quite the shock, really to find that, while I was going through such an incredible and profound mental change, the clock at home only registered a single hour had past. As no one asked where I had been, I was careful to not talk to anyone as I wrestled with the thoughts on how to free myself. Then as the plan became clearer, I finally understood what I had to do.
My fight to save myself, was simple and yet I was constantly worried that I would be found out, as I was trying to pretend that nothing had changed. I’m sure that my family was relieved that I wasn’t in the mood to talk that night, as it saved them from dealing with my mood swings, not to mention being yelled at. That night, I made the first of many steps to break the hold that was placed upon my mind and body. It was two or three in the morning that I woke, the house was quiet, and I went to the bathroom, and waited for a minute or two and then flushed the toilet, trying probably too hard, to act my “normal” self. I went into the kitchen, and with one of my syringes removed all the testosterone from the vials and replaced it with water. The reason for this was that I was constantly watched while administering it, so I knew I couldn’t fake that, but this, this, no one would know. Testosterone is a clear liquid, so water was my only option to hide me stopping taking it. As I crawled back into bed, I hoped that it would work.
Editor’s Note: To read Queer as me – Part 10: Playing doctor and sexual attraction, click here. Or click here to read the previous blog post Queer as me - Part 8: The edge of sanity, and beyond. For the latest LSOP blog posts and so much more, make sure to add us on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram.