My mom “supported” my change, but it ever felt so cold. So forced. Like I was opening her a hassle. It wasn’t easy for her. I could tell it disrupt her.

I pondered this was okay for a long time duration. That, “yeah, that must be hard to see person you’ve known one route your whole life unexpectedly change into something you’re unfamiliar with. It takes time to adjust to that.”

But then I visualize parties on now who’s mummies and pas jump for joy and accept them without question. They might even slip up with pronouns or identifies, but instantly apologize and proper themselves. They feel guilty for compiling you feel bad and time want to love you no matter what.

It reminds me of how she used “he” with gritted teeth. How hearing “son, ” a word that was supposed to bring joy, brought only sadness. How she said she reinforced me but refused to take work off to drive me to my appoint change hearing. How she conveniently procures a way to evade talking about my change. How she never certainly tries to understand what I like, and judges that which she doesn’t understand with a speechless sign and a contemptuous gaze.

And I then I verify my mother in statute, who welcomes everyone with a smile and open arms. Who affection me no matter what. Who is winging out simply to be my second witness for my last name change.

I verify my daddy, who contended my entire life to cherish me despite my mother’s manipulation, who pushed hours to my province and made work off although he has desperately needed the money, to subscribe me as another one of his sons, because I’m his kiddo.

Hell, I even encounter my stepdad, Todd, who loved me like his own, who supported me and wanted me to grow when my mother viewed me back. When he played with me as a the tomboy I was. How he let me watch Star Wars and Lord of the Rings when my mom said they were too violent. How he called out my mamas gendering bullshit and fought for me to get a gameboy.

I attend all that and say to my mama, “No, what the hell are you did wasn’t okay. There were people who didn’t’ have a hard time’ with admitting me. There were people who didn’t question my legality. There were people who loved me as I was and didn’t think twice about it. You. Were. Wrong.”

I remember this, and I cry, but then I recognize how far I’ve come. How I’ve FINALLY started to be myself, without questioning, without feeling guilt. How I’m eventually free, to be me, the real ME, for the first time. How I have all these loving and encouraging people in my life.

And I realize…

It’s going to be okay.

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