Letter to the mother I haven't spoken to since 2001
So this won’t really make any sense unless I explain this part up front: I was diagnosed with Gender Identity Disorder and I’ve transitioned and live as a woman. My legal name is Jessica Morrissey, I’ve been on hormone therapy for about a year, and very few people who know me now know me in any other context. Maybe I’ll come back to that later.
Obviously, I’ve sort of fallen off the map. I don’t really feel like getting into my reasons for doing so. I’ll just give you a quick overview of what I’ve been doing. I got out of the military in August of 2001 and started college at SUNY Buffalo a few weeks later. I graduated with a 4 year degree in Computer Science in 2004. I got married in June of 2004 and divorced officially in August of 2007 although we’d separated earlier that year. I moved to Harrisburg, PA and I work for a school here as a network administrator. I live with two other twenty-something year old women and two cats in a townhouse.
So why am I writing this? I don’t entirely know. A great deal of it has to do with the fact that both rewiring your endocrine system to run on estrogen and living as a woman radically shift how you perceive and react to your surroundings. I don’t feel as much of a need to be right just for the sake of being right. I’m far less inclined to argue about things and tend to choose my battles more carefully.
Maybe I’m finally growing up a little. A lot more of it is probably that I’m not tearing myself and everyone around me apart because gender dysphoria isn’t making me so miserable anymore.
I know this is probably falling on deaf ears at this point. I understand that after almost a decade you’ve probably written me off. I guess I can’t blame you. I know you probably won’t approve of my decision to transition. That’s actually sort of irrelevant at this point as that the physical changes are pretty much irreversible. I know organized religion has a problem with my decision (I’m agnostic personally) so chances are good you’ll share that standpoint. I realize at this point in your life, you’re probably not really willing to adjust to having a daughter.
I’m having a hard time writing more of this letter… I’m not sure what to say when I’m not the person you spoke to last time you spoke to me. I’m not really referring to gender either although that’s obviously a part of it. I’ve just changed a lot. The vast majority was within the past year or two. You always said I didn’t know how to be happy when I was a child. Well… you were oddly enough right although maybe not in the sense you meant. It’s impossible to be happy when you feel your body is progressively betraying you more and more. All the yelling in the world couldn’t have made me any more miserable than I already was.
I hate to focus on me transitioning. I’ve got lots of other stuff going on. I work for an awesome non-profit school. I go to a Tae Kwan Do Studio a few times a week. I’ve got an on again off again girlfriend who’s a model. I’ve sort of learned how to make friends.
So what’s my purpose in writing this letter? I don’t know exactly. To be honest, if I hadn’t transitioned, I’d never have written this letter. On one hand, I’d like to see if some sort of reconciliation’s possible. I don’t know the answer to that. On the other hand, I want to see how you’ll react to who I am now. Maybe we’ll finally get along. Maybe all the changes will be the final straw and we can both move on sans ambiguity.
I’m sort of afraid to ask how you’ve been. I’m still afraid of your husband. I had nitemares about him for years. I’m afraid of how he’s likely treated you with all the children gone. I’d like to hope he’s taken some anger management classes or something and sorted his issues out. One way I’ve changed is going from hating him for what he did to us and now I’m just sort of sad that a human being feels a need to be that way.
Here are ways to contact me:
At this point, I don’t expect a response. I’m not even sure if I really want one. I can’t imagine what you’d have to say to me at this point. If you get this on Thursday, it’s a little hard to imagine you calling me to say happy thirtieth birthday. It doesn’t matter.
I think I’ve included enough for now to let you decide how to handle this. If I haven’t heard back in a month, I’ll assume that you’re disinterested in continuing our relationship. Who knows though? Life rarely goes how you expect.
Obviously, I’ve sort of fallen off the map. I don’t really feel like getting into my reasons for doing so. I’ll just give you a quick overview of what I’ve been doing. I got out of the military in August of 2001 and started college at SUNY Buffalo a few weeks later. I graduated with a 4 year degree in Computer Science in 2004. I got married in June of 2004 and divorced officially in August of 2007 although we’d separated earlier that year. I moved to Harrisburg, PA and I work for a school here as a network administrator. I live with two other twenty-something year old women and two cats in a townhouse.
So why am I writing this? I don’t entirely know. A great deal of it has to do with the fact that both rewiring your endocrine system to run on estrogen and living as a woman radically shift how you perceive and react to your surroundings. I don’t feel as much of a need to be right just for the sake of being right. I’m far less inclined to argue about things and tend to choose my battles more carefully.
Maybe I’m finally growing up a little. A lot more of it is probably that I’m not tearing myself and everyone around me apart because gender dysphoria isn’t making me so miserable anymore.
I know this is probably falling on deaf ears at this point. I understand that after almost a decade you’ve probably written me off. I guess I can’t blame you. I know you probably won’t approve of my decision to transition. That’s actually sort of irrelevant at this point as that the physical changes are pretty much irreversible. I know organized religion has a problem with my decision (I’m agnostic personally) so chances are good you’ll share that standpoint. I realize at this point in your life, you’re probably not really willing to adjust to having a daughter.
I’m having a hard time writing more of this letter… I’m not sure what to say when I’m not the person you spoke to last time you spoke to me. I’m not really referring to gender either although that’s obviously a part of it. I’ve just changed a lot. The vast majority was within the past year or two. You always said I didn’t know how to be happy when I was a child. Well… you were oddly enough right although maybe not in the sense you meant. It’s impossible to be happy when you feel your body is progressively betraying you more and more. All the yelling in the world couldn’t have made me any more miserable than I already was.
I hate to focus on me transitioning. I’ve got lots of other stuff going on. I work for an awesome non-profit school. I go to a Tae Kwan Do Studio a few times a week. I’ve got an on again off again girlfriend who’s a model. I’ve sort of learned how to make friends.
So what’s my purpose in writing this letter? I don’t know exactly. To be honest, if I hadn’t transitioned, I’d never have written this letter. On one hand, I’d like to see if some sort of reconciliation’s possible. I don’t know the answer to that. On the other hand, I want to see how you’ll react to who I am now. Maybe we’ll finally get along. Maybe all the changes will be the final straw and we can both move on sans ambiguity.
I’m sort of afraid to ask how you’ve been. I’m still afraid of your husband. I had nitemares about him for years. I’m afraid of how he’s likely treated you with all the children gone. I’d like to hope he’s taken some anger management classes or something and sorted his issues out. One way I’ve changed is going from hating him for what he did to us and now I’m just sort of sad that a human being feels a need to be that way.
Here are ways to contact me:
At this point, I don’t expect a response. I’m not even sure if I really want one. I can’t imagine what you’d have to say to me at this point. If you get this on Thursday, it’s a little hard to imagine you calling me to say happy thirtieth birthday. It doesn’t matter.
I think I’ve included enough for now to let you decide how to handle this. If I haven’t heard back in a month, I’ll assume that you’re disinterested in continuing our relationship. Who knows though? Life rarely goes how you expect.