A Letter to the People That Knew Me in My Past Life.

To the People in My Past

I know this is going to be a long read, but please don’t give up on me. These are some things I need to get off my chest. I know they need to be said and I know it’s going to be hard for me to write and possibly for you to read. Give me one chance to explain. 

If you are reading this you must have known the person I was in my past life. When I say past life, I don’t me to sound as though I died and was given another chance at life. Although sometimes it feels that way. I’m talking about while I was Her. Before I became Him. If you are reading this, you knew me at my worst. I need to explain why I was who I was in my past life. And please don’t take this as an excuse, but an explanation as to why I am no longer the person you knew. I’m going to start from the beginning. 

When I realized who I was, I was Seven years old. At the time I wasn’t aware there was a name for it. I didn’t know my feelings were okay. Because of this, I kept a secret for most of my life. Growing up different wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to be just like all the other kids. I wanted to be normal and just be a kid. I remember going with my big brother and our friends. The boys were all the same age and treated me like one of them. They taught me everything I needed to know about being a boy. How to catch snakes and craw-fish. How to get so dirty from playing in the mud that our mom would make us hose off before we were allowed to come back in the house. How not to be afraid of bullies and to stand up to them. Most importantly, how to protect the girls. Some of my favorite childhood memories were running around with them doing boy things like trading Pokemon cards and stickers and catching bullfrogs after we got a lot of rain. Then we got separated and we grew up.  We were close until the last day we saw each other. Halloween night when I was seven years old. I wish things stayed the same. I wish that as we grew older we would know each other and you would treat me like one of the boys. 

When I was Seven years old, I can remember begging people to call me by a different name. I remember telling my teachers that my name was NOT Bobbie. It’s not who I am and not who I want to be. They thought it was a phase that I would grow out of. Someday she will like her name. She will love herself as she is. 

Fast forward to grade 6. I started dating my first ever boyfriend. We went through a lot in our relationship and I truly did love him. After being together and breaking up plenty of times I finally came to the realization that we weren’t going to make it. Not if I was lying to him about how I felt. Not that I didn’t love him, but that I didn’t feel like his girlfriend. That word, Girlfriend didn’t define me. That would imply that I felt like a girl. 

When I was 13 years old I was having a lot of health issues. I had had these things my entire life but they wanted to know why. Why was I getting Kidney infections all the time? Why was my body not acting like a normal female body?  During my surgery to fix my kidneys, the found something. Or rather found a lack of something. They noticed I didn’t have your “typical” female reproductive system. I was missing parts. I didn’t know about this until a while after they found out. It was kept from me until we had health class. I came home with the feminine products the school hands out. They scared me. That is the day that my moms sat me down. 

My birth mom and my adoptive mom wanted to have “the talk” and I wasn’t ready for it. At least that’s what I thought. They sat me down and told me that when I had my kidney surgery, the doctors noticed something was missing. My Uterus, Tubes, cervix, and ovary. I didn’t have them. Because of this, I was told I could never carry a child. My first instinct was to ask a question that had been on my mind for years before that. “Does this mean I can be a boy?” They both laughed and told me that it really didn’t work that way. It made me sad to know I would never be able to have kids, but I think what really took its toll was when I was told just because I was missing parts, didn’t mean I could be a boy. 

So that is part of my background, lets fast forward a bit. What does any of this have to do with what this whole thing is about? I wanted you to understand that this isn’t new. This wasn’t a decision on a whim. I grew up always knowing I wasn’t her. When I was 20 years old I met someone special. I instantly had a connection with this person and knew that at some point they would mean the world to me. I just didn’t know how much I could love someone until we started talking. 

When we started seeing each other I never knew there would be an end. We got married after knowing each other for a year. There were a few bumps in that road but we pushed through all of the obstacles. Being married to the love of my life was one of the most magical times of my life. I always thought our lives would be spent together. Which brings me to the worst part of my life. I pushed this person away in the worst way. During our marriage, I had been going through a bad mental health situation. That is no fault of my spouse. Only because I knew at some point I needed to admit to this person how I had been feeling my entire life. How I didn’t want to be intimate because I didn’t have the right parts. Everyone knows a connection in a marriage is important. We had the Emotional connection and physical to an extent but It wasn’t what it should have been and it was entirely my fault. It was because I didn’t want to be a wife. I wanted to be the husband I had always been in my heart and soul. I’m sorry I failed us. It’s my biggest regret in life. 

During that time I had been harming myself. My spouse didn’t know it at the time because I had been good at hiding it most of my life. Causing myself physical pain helped me with my emotional pain. It helped me push my feelings back and just focus on the pain that was happening. I had to get myself out. Out of the marriage before I hurt my spouse anymore emotionally. I didn’t want my pain to affect my spouse. I felt like even in our marriage I had failed because the way I felt inside. I was bad at communication because I didn’t know how to sit down and explain that they had married me for her and they never truly got to know him. The side of me that I wish I had shown the entire time. So I pushed. And when I say I pushed I mean it was messy. It was harsh. and it was damaging to my relationship with my spouses family who maybe didn’t like me from the very beginning, but who I loved more than words can say. 

After our messy divorce, we didn’t talk for a long time. It was hard for both of us, even though I made it seem like what I wanted. I saw my spouse a few times after that in public and every time it was like my heart was ripped from my chest and my lungs were being crushed to the point of not being able to breathe. I knew that this was what heartbreak felt like. I regretted knowing that I probably made them feel the exact same way. Every time I saw you was when you were with a new love interest in your life. The pain of knowing I wasn’t the one holding your hand and showing you off to the people I loved was devastating to me, but I only did it to myself. 

Over the next two years, I went to therapy weekly. I knew I needed help. I needed someone to help me get out of my head. to save me from my own terrible thoughts. I got help. And then I got clarity. Lying to myself and the world around me was only going to make things worse. I had to do something about it. I had to open up about what I felt. I fought with myself until one day I finally admitted it. I’m not a girl. I was never her, Bobbie Gayle Hall, the daughter, the niece, or the sister. I am HIM. I am Blake Atticus Rhys Kidwell, the son, the nephew, the brother.

Getting this new information out to the world seemed like such a hard thing to do. I feared the emotional sitdown with family members to explain. I feared having to explain to them such deep and personal things that I hated about myself. That made me wasn’t to hurt myself. That made me want to no longer be alive. I feared to tell them that I admitted to my therapist that if I didn’t know the dangers of doing surgery on myself, I would have tried to remove my breasts on my own. I feared to tell my family that for so many years I had felt this way. That I kept something so important from them. But I knew I needed to because the way I was living my life was not healthy for me or my relationship with the outside world. Instead of sitting down and facing that fear I decided to put it all in the open. I made a post on facebook about how I had felt. I told the world that I am a transgender man that fully intended on starting hormone treatment, having top and bottom surgery, and changing my name and gender marker. The feeling I got when I posted this was pure freedom. I felt free of something that had been holding me back from being happy my entire life. 

As you can imagine there were some people who didn’t agree with it. But for every one person that was against me being who I truly am, there were 100 more that loved me for the man I am. Their support has really made my transition easier. As of September 12, 2018, I have been on Hormone Replacement Treatment. For me, that means I take testosterone shots every week. I have committed myself to my transition and to my treatment. I don’t take this as a joke, I don’t take it lightly. I will have to do this for the rest of my life and the changes are irreversible. For the people who thought this was a phase, I only hope you will reconsider our relationship. For the people who have had trouble accepting the changes, especially my name and my pronouns, I know it’s hard. I know you knew me in my past life. In my past life, I was your Wife, your granddaughter, your Daughter, your Niece, and your Sister. I can only tell you that I love you and I say that now, in this life, as your ex-husband, your Grandson, your Son, your Brother, and your Nephew.

So to the people that knew me in my past life, I can only hope you can forgive me and love me for the man I am in the present life. 

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