Dear Mom and Dad,
It is not easy for me to write
this letter, for you have never really seemed willing to listen to me. But
maybe a letter provides just the right combination of closeness and
distance that we need for communication. Of course, up till now I have not
even been able to hear or see myself for who I really am, so how much can I
really blame you for our relationship and for our lack of communication?
The older I get, the less I can honestly and responsibly do any blaming. I
am at the point in my life where I now feel I am truly responsible for what
I do and think and feel. So I want to tell you some things that I now
accept and respect about myself.
Mom and Dad, you brought a son
into the world, a son, however, who was always seen by both of you as a
dreamer, a boy who you, Dad, wanted to be more of a man, and a boy who you,
Mom, wanted to be close to you. As you know, I did try to be a good son to
both of you, though at times I felt a bit torn apart by your conflicting
expectations of me. In any case, I did go to school, I dated girls, I
participated in sports, worked in your garage, Dad, and have held good jobs
in teaching and selling. But somehow I have never really been happy.
I realize you both helped me with
therapy, but I remained troubled. Well, at last I have found the source of
my problem: it is what is called "gender confusion," and it just won't go
away. The truth is that all my life, ever since I was six years old, I have
always preferred to be among girls, just being with them and playing house
with them. Oh yes, I played with cars and trucks and guns and was in the
Cub Scouts and had some boy friends. But the older I got the more I found
myself wanting to be just like the girls. That is why, given my being born
a male, I have been confused and unhappy, confused about my gender.
This confusion has taken quite a
toll on my life. Self-recognition in a case like this can be very
difficult, let alone accepting what one finally recognizes to be the case.
I have always felt ashamed of my feminine feelings, for being somehow
different from the other boys. As I look back, I wonder how I ever got
through school, for I was so preoccupied with my inner concerns and my
inner unrest that I had difficulty concentrating on my studies. But somehow
I managed to graduate at each step of the way. Of course, concentrating on
earning a living has also been difficult, but again, I seem to have
managed.
But that is about all I was doing
as the years progressed: managing to get along but not really enjoying life
and not really accomplishing the things I had once envisioned doing. So
now, with many years behind me, I have at last seen the truth about myself.
Better late than never, as they say. I guess hearing all this is enough to
make you turn over in your graves. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, you
are in your graves, both of you. I wonder if you are still arguing over me.
I used to feel guilty thinking I was the cause of your marital
difficulties.
Well, now that you both are
resting, perhaps in peace, I find myself finally telling you something that
probably makes you a bit uncomfortable. But tell you I must, if only for my
own sanity in the world of the living. I cannot tolerate any longer my own
living death. I suppose that, if you can somehow hear and understand what I
am saying, you are shocked. But think of it this way: at last you have
given me the opportunity to tell you my deep, dark secret. I am no longer
ashamed of who I am.
Maybe you think I am a coward for
waiting until both of you cannot really react tome. But all the time that
you thought I was a difficult child, you in turn were not easy parents, the
way you carried on about me. I always felt something was drastically wrong
with me, leaving me with little solid ground to stand on. But now I feel
the ground beneath me to be solid and exciting. Unfortunately, and I do
mean it is unfortunate, you are in that ground, perhaps the only time you
have stayed quiet and listened to me and, hopefully, accepted me for who I
am. If you are uncomfortable, then I am sorry, for I do love you. Maybe
some flowers from me from time to time will sweeten the bitterness of the
truth I have just shared with you.
But is it really bitter for me to
be happy, wanting nothing more from you than love and acceptance? I think
not, and I can only wish for you the eternal happiness that I am beginning
to experience while I am still living. May you rest in peace, and may I
live in peace.
Love,
Lee
P.S. I hope you like my new first
name.