Dear Doctors…
Open Letters from Detransitioners, Desisters and/or the De-identifying Individuals to the Gender Clinics: Letter 1
Dear Gender Clinic,
Re: The horrors of my life as a minor
I am writing to you as a part of my detransition therapy. It has been a long journey, so this is going to be a long letter, and I have problems with repetitiveness and details. I have completed a lot of work on myself and had been thinking about writing to you. My current therapist agreed that I should. Since detransitioning, I have learnt so much about myself. I am learning to be happy with my life and my ‘self’ now, but I have a few things to say to you, each one of you, who participated in what I can only describe as the ‘horrors of my life as a minor’. I hope I receive responses from you, however I have been forewarned this is unlikely. I am ok with that, which is why I am allowing this letter to be published openly, for the world to read.
From my earliest memories. I questioned everything. People called me the ‘walking dictionary’. I thought about the meaning of life, why are we here and Who am I? I had my first existential crisis at age 7. I had nightmares about giving birth. I was 7! I loved rules (still do) as they help me make sense of the world. No-one else was curious like me, or even cared about the things I cared about. I questioned everything and I drove my parents crazy. The fought all the time. Then they got divorced. I thought it was my fault. I was repeatedly sexually abused by my father. I had wondered if I was adopted and asked my mother that once. I also thought I was from another planet. I didn’t fit in anywhere. I frequently get so strongly absorbed in analysing myself that I lose sight of other things. I was so absorbed and obsessed with my character building and need for friends that I was willing to do anything to be accepted and have friends. I was very obsessed with myself and would get upset if I couldn’t pursue this. I was fixated.
As a little girl, I enjoyed fantasy worlds, loved getting carried away and lost in my imaginary worlds. I had imaginary friends and imaginary animals. I still do. When I played alone, I was often connected to a movie I had watched and would be literally ‘in’ the movie with the characters. I still do this now. I become the ‘character’.
When I was young, I created my own complex ‘set ups’ with toys. I spent most of my time setting up the scene and very little time playing with the dolls, furniture, or accessories. I liked my Sylvanian Families dollhouse in order and set it up exactly where things should be. I didn’t learn about people, socializing or what it might be like being older, through pretend play. I did not enjoy playing games involving pretending with other children. I did not find it very easy to play games with children that involved pretending. I wasn’t exactly ‘teachable’ and I was certainly not a ‘diplomat’. I had no idea how to be a person who is tactful and skillful in managing fragile social situations or handling people. I spent alot of time with grown-ups and very little time with kids my own age. I was labelled ‘gifted’ in the 3rd grade. I had no idea what that meant. I find it difficult to imagine what it would be like to be someone else. I thought everyone else had the same thoughts & feelings as I did.
From as early as I can remember, I watched, observed and stared at other girls socialising. I didn’t know what to do or how they did what they did. What the hell are they doing, I would ask myself? Why are they doing what they are doing? How do they do that? How do they so easily make and keep friends? I’m attracted to females with strong personalities who tell me what to do, and I am very stubborn and determined, to a harmful degree. I adopted a different persona in different situations. Some social situations make me feel mute. Words can get stuck in my throat, so I would just parrot back and agree with my parents, other kids, the doctors, instead of expressing my real thoughts. I learnt to put on a facial ‘mask’ that hid my social confusion. I learnt how to ‘act’ in many situations. I did this by copying others. I had intense emotions from the get-go. This got me into trouble. I was a chronic liar when I was younger. This is very hard for me to admit. I would make up stories about myself to make myself fit in more with the situation or make me seem more expectable to those around me. I would do anything to fit in or be socially accepted. It became an obsession.
I wrote letters to God asking why no one liked me, that I liked different things, that I thought differently, had no fashion sense, didn’t understand girls, wondered why people didn’t mean what they said or said what they mean, why I was so confused. All. The. Time. I was not like the other girls. They all wanted to talk about boys, fashion, were ‘bitchy’ (they still are) and continually gossiped and backstabbed others. They talked about their feelings and I didn’t know how to do that. They seemed to ‘get’ each other. Boys were simpler, wanted to play, and were far easier to get along with. To this day, most of my friends are guys. They aren’t touchy feely dramatic, emotional drama queens, although I realise now that I can be a drama Queen, in my own way. I didn’t want to be seen as or called ‘different’, weird’, or a ‘freak’, but here I was, a young girl, who didn’t identify with the girls, hung out with the boys (or alone) and continually thought about ‘deep’ issues. I had my first depression at age 7. It was ‘existential’ and common for kids like me, so I learned later on, in therapy. I didn’t “act my age” in certain situations and I was “so mature” in other situations. I am still like this today.
I have Alexythymia. Most gender therapists don’t know what this means or how to treat this. This means I have challenges identifying, labelling and describing my own feelings and emotions. This is linked to my interoceptive difficulties related to my Autism. I have challenges in being aware of my body and the sense of the condition of my body. My system of interoception relates to how I perceive feelings from my body that determines my mood, my sense of well-being and my emotions. I lack an awareness of, and sensitivity to, my own internal physiological sensations and I could not conceptualize my own affective or emotional experiences. This is a part of my Dysphoria. My interoceptive challenges lead to my socioemotional challenges. My alexythymia is related to my interoception challenges, and it was a part of my ‘dysphoria’. My brain. doesn’t give me the signals appropriately. My interoceptive issues mean I can’t tell when I am hungry, when I need to go to the bathroom, when I should drink water. when I am hot or cold. I once burnt myself so badly I had to go to the hospital, but I didn’t feel the pain like I should. This makes me vulnerable.
I have always had fears and anxieties. I have had phobias and anxieties about change, death, having a baby, the world ending, wars, everlasting hellfire, the devil, from as early as I can remember. Dealing with uncertainty and change is a huge deal to me. I need a plan, structure, a need to know whats happening in my world, well ahead of time. If I don’t have structure, a plan, a sense of what is happening ahead of time, I have meltdowns. I don’t deal with change very well. I certainly didn’t deal with puberty very well. I had PCOS, very heavy painful periods, pre-diabetes and hormonal problems. I didn’t know this at the time. Neither did my parents. None of this was identified by doctors. The teenage years were hell for me. My PCOS (a huge factor in my identity issues) gave me severe monthly menstrual difficulties and I had to have cysts from my ovaries removed. I also had depression, anxiety, an eating disorder, and medical conditions I now know are related to Autism. I didn’t tell my mother because I thought everybody else experienced and felt this way too. I now know they don’t.
Puberty was hell. Can you see why yet? I couldn’t control my body. I couldn’t control anything. I hit puberty well before my peers. I was changing, growing, stinky, hairy, gross. I wanted it to stop. The boys stared at me, no…they stared at my breasts. They made sexual comments. I hated that. I wanted the painful periods to stop. I wanted my breasts to stop growing because I loved running and they just got in the way. I went on-line and found out I could put a stop to all this. I am rigid. I didn’t want this so being a boy is the obvious answer. My rigidity of thinking (black and white thinking) was a large factor in me thinking I must be ‘trans’. I still find it very difficult to understand the variability of ways a person can be as man or woman outside stereotypes. Not having to be ‘girly’ wasn’t something I thought was possible. It’s black or white.
The “trans” community was the answer. It had to be, or so I thought. The mean girls were ‘bitches’. Why didn’t I get any attention? I wanted attention too, to be celebrated, to be accepted, to be special, to be loved, for the individual that I was. Why did I have to wear makeup, shorten my skirts, sexualise myself, stuff my bra, be ‘bitchy’ and controlled, to fit in with the girls and get “attention” from the boys? The boys were already my friends and the girls hated me for this. Maybe I was supposed to be a boy? I mean from as early as I can remember I had Tocophobia (fear of babies) and I sure as hell didn’t want one. I didn’t fit in with the vast majority of the girls. Don’t get me wrong. I love children. I just don’t want one. I’m not the natural ‘motherly’ type either and I care about others. They just confuse me. I must have been a boy!
So here I am, a ‘weirdo walking dictionary’ with zero girl friends. I find myself increasingly online because I am so lonely, alone and so misunderstood. The guys aren’t the same anymore. They don’t want to play. They want sex. They are into porn and violent video games. I’m not interested in sex or violence. So I find myself on Reddit and other platforms and start meeting all kinds of people who call themselves, trans, non-binary, furries and all kinds of other genders. Maybe I’m one of them? Maybe that’s why I have always felt ‘different’? From another planet? An alien? Not a girl?
For the first time in my life, I felt overwhelming acceptance for being the ‘freak’. They embraced my quirkiness, my giftedness, my idiosyncrasies. I was welcomed, embraced, validated, loved, had all the attention I ever dreamed of. I should received this from my parents.They trans community accepted everybody, or so I thought. Now I was sure I must be ‘trans’. I was overwhelmed and it was intoxicating, addictive and yes, ‘euphoric’. I had no idea about sexuality nor had I had any sexual experiences. I wasn’t interested. Another reason I felt so ‘odd’ and out of place. Everyone is so obsessed with sex. Why?
I was encouraged, accepted, validated, positively reinforced, given multiple free binders, free ‘packers’, free info packs, sexuality education, all from the trans community. They had regular meetups. I thought why not? My mother couldn’t have been more pleased with me. It make me wonder had she wanted a boy? Why didn’t she like me when I was a girl? She was deeply religious and homophobic, but she encouraged me to be transgender.
In my young immature mind, I felt as though finally, I could escape the pressure cooker of feeling ‘different’, of how I ‘should’ look, act, behave, escape the sexualised entitled comments from the boys (and the jealousy from the girls) about my body and the ridiculous rules made about females and males. I have always been non-conforming - to society’s stupid rules, in general. I do love my own rules though.
I submerged myself in the information they provided and their culture of “acceptance”, which I now would classify as ‘social pressure’ and ‘social conformity’, They helped me to completely disconnect from my harmful friend group who harassed me about my identity and appearance. They disconnected me from my parents, from my only one best friend and from my family members. They became my new family. They told me I wasn’t ‘different’. They told me I could stop my ‘dysphoria’. I thought it would fix my fear of death. I often thought about death and thought I would die because my emotions are too strong. People online were telling me I would die if I didn’t transition. I know now that I was taking them literally and I believed them because I am socially naive and gullible. They were lying. I was vulnerable.
They told me what to say to YOU ‘gender doctors’. My mother brought me to see one of you. We had a single session and she signed the letter, no questions asked. There was nothing in the way of assessment or exploration which seemed amazing to me at the time, but now I see this as medical malpractice. So, I went to ‘gender therapists’ and said my ‘scripts’. And, it all worked. After three sessions with another gender psychologist, I was referred for puberty blockers. I didn’t know how to talk to people, let alone doctors. Lacking proper critical thinking abilities, I started claiming my new identity. I would make my face ‘smile’ and think it looked like a smile and nod like, “Yes, I’m with you.” I felt social confusion often enough to know that my MO was to typically smile, nod, and change the subject quickly. I’ve actually lied when people have said, “You know what I mean?”. “Yep!”, I would say, with no clue what they were talking about. I do not find it easy to 'read between the lines' when someone is talking to me. I was vulnerable.
Dear Gender Therapists: You were all unhelpful therapists that I believed were helpful at the time. You were all on my side. You all agreed with me. You encouraged me. You affirmed me. You were all my cheerleader, my soccer mum, my beauty pageant mum, my life coach and my best friend, all wrapped up into one. You were all the pathways to my personal hell. You encouraged me to go to transgender groups, meetups, protests, and become an activist.
I was 12 and a Tomboy on puberty blockers. Grades 6 to 9 were a phase of self-discovery. My obsession with being the absolute best at ‘fitting in’ was not healthy. I am competitive by nature. I took that T. I acted the part of a ‘boy’. I know how to do that. I have been acting my entire life. It is called ‘Social Camouflaging’. I copy, mimic, pretend and take on the characteristics of others. Then there were more changes with the testosterone. I didn’t like that either. I still don’t like change. They told me it would get better, that I would find my “true self”, experience ‘euphoria’ what ever that meant. I didn’t. I am a black and white literal thinker. I believed that I literally HAD to have a ‘gender identity', that I must be ‘trans’ in every minuteness of this stereotyped definition. Talk about being put in a box! Perfectly. Obsessively. I must be the opposite sex in every way possible. It’s just logical, isn’t it? Doesn’t everyone think the same way I do? I thought everyone thought the same thoughts as I do and I couldn’t understand that others think differently about things than I do. I couldn’t understand that people had different thoughts and feelings than mine and it was my life ‘ending’. if they disagreed with me.
Doctors, you recommended that I join the transgender community, when I was a minor. Well, guess what? They introduced me to BDSM. It was attractive to me because it has rules, roles (I like a persona), a sense of knowing what was going to happen, open mindedness, safe words. I don’t like uncertainly and this was structured and planned for me. It seemed to make sense. I didn’t want to do it, but my desperation to ‘fit in’ was more important. I learnt that violence was normal in sex. I learnt that pornography was normal. I learnt that to fit in, I had to have sex. I went to Transgender meetups where I met an array of different people. I went to furry conventions, cosplay, and eventually animeporn parties. I met an older male to female friend. I thought she was my friend. You see, I have never understood friendships. She became the ‘parent’ I never had (so I thought) and introduced me to BDSM. I thought this was normal sexuality. It’s not. It’s abusive. ‘She’ raped me with ‘her’ penis. This traumatised me. I was a minor.
Between all this, two extremely important events had taken place: My grandmother came back into my life. I started spending a lot of time with her. She is eccentric like me. I decided to go off Testosterone. I had struggled for nearly all my life with body image issues and an eating disorder. I had a lanky build, tall, skinny and big boobs and had been bullied for it for most of my childhood. I am just like my grandmother, whom I adore and often wished I could live with. She is imaginative, eccentric, quirky, in her own world and an author. Just like me. I love writing, art, languages and eccentric stuff. I am a lesbian. I had fleetingly known this since I was 10, but really struggled with this as my parents were both very religious. I don’t consider this to be a substantial part of myself.
In therapy, I learnt that my personality is not fixed. I have many distinct ways of acting, with each persona in accordance with who or what group I’m in, whether that be friends, work, public, and family. My mannerisms, ways of speaking, and general behaviours are very different for each persona. It has started to become more natural in the last rwo years, and now I switch from one ‘image of self’ to another more naturally, so I thought. Turns out others don’t see me the same way I see myself. However, it doesn’t necessarily feel like different personalities, but more just different facets, ‘personas’ of myself. When I am in a situation where I am involved with people from two or more different groups, I go completely mute. I don’t know how to act or what to say. This is ‘social camouflaging’.
I don’t think I have a ‘real’ personality or self. I taught myself how to act ‘normal’, through observing others. If I hadn’t done so, I would probably be an expressionless robot all the time. I would still have many internal emotions though as I feel strong feelings. Having to always think about what I’m going to do or say is beyond draining. I have this ‘inner critic’ who judges me harshly, monologuing to me about how I should or should not act, what I should or should not say, when I should or should not say it, when I would make a joke, engage in small talk. It is exhausting.
I am still working on my conception/perception of myself. I needed you ‘gender therapists’ to work with me on this. I needed you to tell me that I was still developing and that I would be still be developing through my teenage years, until at least 25 years. You harmed me by unquestioningly accepting my assertion of gender identity, by failing to challenge my beliefs, pertaining to my identity, (which was a made up gender identity) and failed to assess and understand my developmental trajectory that caused my distress and suffering, in the first place. My ‘gender dysphoria’ and my suffering did not arise due to my ‘gender’, but needed to be understood and contextualized in relation to my family, my giftedness, my Autism, my abuse, my family story. What I really needed from you was access to long term psychological support from an unbiased health professional to help me explore my thoughts and feelings, sexuality and discover any underlying diagnoses or conditions.
I realise now that I had been love-bombed by the ‘trans’ community and by you gender therapists and this wasn’t normal or healthy. Back then, I was addicted to it. My parents never paid attention to me as they were too busy working, fighting and abusing me. I had one girl friend. My only other ‘friend’ was the school librarian. After the divorce, my mother really became a part of the problem. Every social media post I made about my new ‘trans’ identity was received with praise by my new online community and by my own mother who previously didn’t give a shit about me. Am I allowed to say that? Every move I made towards transition my mother praised me, uploaded my pictures to Facebook (without my permission) and had regular celebratory parties with her friends. All of the sudden, she was now my biggest cheerleader. Since when? She had paid little attention to me before. In fact, she had been my abuser. And still is, to a lesser degree. I don’t live with her now. She is an abuser.
My obsession with the meaning of life, why I am here and WHO AM I? was not normal for a child. I didn’t have an identity. All the pretending, imitating, social camouflaging in the world wasn’t going to help me find my identity, my likes, dislikes, preferences, my strengths and challenges, my personality, characteristics that make up who I am, as a unique human being. I could have spent all that time with a ethical therapist working on my identity, rather than all those years pretending to be ‘facets’ and ‘personas’ of other people. A false Person. A fake persona.
What I needed was to learn how to connect with others in a meaningful way, based on shared interests (being trans did not help me do that) and to realise that I didn’t need to be ‘trans’ to express myself in any ‘unique’ or ‘special’ way. I didn’t need to ‘socially transition’ or undergo irreversible medical interventions. I was diagnosed with Gifted Autism or Twice-Exceptionality. My autism is WHY I have always felt different. This has helped me accept and understand myself. Knowing that I am a visual thinker and an extreme systemiser (high SQ) with lower (EQ) with a high IQ has helped me enormously with knowing who I am and where I fit in, in this crazy world. I now know how I think and process the world and the people around me. Knowing the reason why I find it challenging to communicate with ‘empathisers’ and easy for me to communicate with ‘systemisers’, my sensory processing differences, my interoceptive differences, my ADHD, my Alexythymia and my existential fears changed my life. It has made more sense than me being medicalised for life. Autism and systemetizing is why I always got along with boys. That’s why I find it challenging to communicate with girls. Not because I am supposed to BE a boy. I think differently, that’s all. I am a pattern seeker. I see patterns in everything.
You did not include my mother or family members. You refused to allow them to be present. Why? After my third session with you, you brought my mother in and told her I was ‘trans’, a boy born in the wrong body. Why? That my pronouns were he/they and my name was now Phoenix. I was 12 years old. You went to your black book (of prescribing GP’s) and called a GP to have me placed immediately on puberty blockers. Why? You didn’t even have a family therapy session with all of us. You told my mother and you demanded that she just accept this immediately, call me by my pronouns or I would die. That was a lie. I wasn’t suicidal. I was depressed, anxious, starving, lonely. I had a Plethora of undiagnosed medical and psychological conditions, which you didn’t assess me for. You were the psychologist. There was no therapy that took place. There was no assessment that took place. It was all about you and what you thought I should do. My mother was so happy I was not gay.
Doctors and Clinicians: You have made it too easy for teens and pre-teens to make irreversible changes to their bodies, and I am an example of that. I will forever live with these regrets. You said to me:
It couldn’t possibly be a ‘phase’, because you saw my “propensity for being stubborn rigid and determined” (in my black and white thinking) as me saying “it doesn’t feel like a choice. This is the only way”. I don’t know how I ‘felt’. That is because I have Alexythymia and you didn’t bother to give me a comprehensive assessment or diagnoses. You spoke on my behalf, without involving me, telling your colleagues and my parents that for me “it is a choice about how I live - this way or the ‘dead’ way”, that I must transition to being a boy now, so I can face the world expressing my ‘authentic’ self as I need to.
What I needed was time, time to know WHO I am, what my strengths and challenges are, to engage in inner core self identity work, to build self-esteem, to get to know my ‘self’, NOT be medicalised by drugs and surgery, as if that would fix my fragmented and fragile psyche. I am a deep thinker and have an inner desire to find meaning in everything and I am not able to express myself and unable to be ‘genuine’ and ‘authentic’ about who I am because I am gifted. Autistic, Alexythymic. Tocophobic. Eating disordered. Never mind the sexual abuse by my father and the trans community. And you, THE DOCTORS, missed all this?
Autism means I have social communication problems, sensory processing challenges, restricted or obsessive interests and challenges with language. I think differently. I don’t have natural boundaries. I didn’t have any boundaries at all. I was socially naive. I was taken advantage of. I needed a safeguarder. I needed adult role models and health professionals who acted like real adults. I was vulnerable.
Gender Therapists: ‘Alexythymia’ means I have trouble identifying, labelling and describing my feelings and much more. You could not stop asking me how I am “feeling”. That didn’t help. I kept telling you “I don’t know”. You assumed that was me being so “distressed”, I can’t “even talk about feelings”. That I must be put on blocker immediately. That I had your so called ‘Gender Dysphoria’ because I was so confused about myself, how I didn’t fit in as a ‘girl’, I played with the ‘boys’, that I was depressed because I was born in the ‘wrong body’.
No, I didn’t understand my feelings, was disconnected from my self, my body and from others, and was abused by both parents. I was distressed because I was bullied at school and at home, couldn’t understand why others could so easily talk about their feelings. I can’t. I was distressed because everywhere I go, I have an ‘inner critic’ monologing to me and continually socially monitoring and questioning me, that never shuts up. It’s like having a school principle with you constantly in your ear saying:. “Did I say that right? Am I dressed right? Do they like me? What should I say? How do I say it? What do I say? Did I say that right? Oh shit, why didn’t I say that then”? I wanted to scream.
You assured me that if I was just allowed to be my “true authentic self”, it would all go away. No, I needed a competent therapist to help me unpack my dysfunctional parents, my sexual abuse, my issues and diagnoses.
How can you ‘listen’ to me and help me when I have challenges communicating? You didn’t even know I had them. You didn’t assess me for this. How can you ‘listen’ to my parents when they are divorced and my father was sexually abusing me? You kept my parents out of it. How can I tell you what will make me happy when I don’t have the ‘emotional’ language or social communication ability to do so? When I have no boundaries? When I don’t know how to speak for myself or say “NO”? You didnt assess me. How could you just take my word for it, agree with me, affirm me and do harm to me? How could you not provide me a comprehensive psychological assessment? How could you not know my prefrontal cortex is not fully developed? How could you not know I am Autistic, ADHD, have PTSD, Alexythymia, Tocophobia, a high IQ (and uneven profile). How could you not know I have a much slower processing speed (meaning I need a lot more time to think about things)? I needed MORE time. How could you even think I could make ‘informed consent’? Because I have a higher IQ? How could you not know that my social naivety makes me ultra-vulnerable to predators, boundary violators, groomers, the BDSM culture, and incompetent ‘professionals’, like you?
I was not listened to, understood, my family situation or the environment I was living in, nor my Genetics considered or explored. I was a traumatised child put on the ‘trans’ train wreck. How do I know what will make me happy? I don’t even know how to identify or describe ‘happiness’. You ignored this. What does ‘fulfilled’, ‘authentic’ or ‘be your true self’ mean to me as a 12 year old? I should of been playing and receiving help and support.
What I needed as a 12 year old undiagnosed Autistic girl was assessment, diagnosis and therapy with a competent trained and experienced unbiased therapist trained in Autism and gender identity in girls. I did not receive that from you. Why?
So, at 12 years of age I was placed on puberty blockers as advised by a psychologist, with my mother as my personal cheerleader. At the time, this was a dream come true or so I thought. No more bitchy girls (that didn’t last long), a new group that loves me unconditionally (until I questioned them), no more sexualisation (I loved my binders & packers), no more dreading change (I hate change), and a fantastic step plan for how my life would play out (bye bye anxiety), my mother now paid much attention to me (and her friends). What wasn’t there to love? I had structure, a life plan, knew what was happening ahead of time (I really need that), had school accomodations due to being trans (thank God for the days off and less work) and my fears of change, puberty, sex, babies and womanhood all disappeared! For sure I had to be a boy?
Fast forward and I am now on Testosterone and birth control. I got heavily involved with activism, pride, inclusion, diversity, equity as the time went on. It felt intoxicating to be a social justice warrior. I took my anger out at my parents and everyone. I overlooked the LGBTQIA+ bad behaviors, boundary violations, the pornography, the reality of what Queer really means, the Paedophilia, BDSM and the push for Zoophilia (more aptly beastiality), the push to lower the age of consent for children. It was all for ‘inclusion’ and we shouldn’t leave anyone out, so I thought. So I was told.
But something didn’t feel right. I started asking questions. These issues were all ok with the trans community and my mum was too busy showing me off to her friends and co-workers, her boss, and family. She couldn’t understand why I wasn’t having sex yet?! I didn’t talk to her about it.
The trans community were assuring me ‘they’ were ‘safe’. I was in an echo chamber. My high sense of justice and truth-seeking was suddenly peaking. I thought I had found truth and my ‘true self’, but things were just a little ‘off’. They were ‘inclusive’ yet they behaved towards others badly? They loved me until I questioned them? They were doxxing people, having BDSM parties where minors were present? It was unsafe. Things weren’t making sense. I started asking my trans groups and friends questions. They either just agreed or could not answer my questions. Then they started attacking me. All of the sudden I was no longer a part of their group. I was being excluded. And that was the beginning of the end. I wanted to talk to someone outside this echo chamber who had answers that made sense.
I went back to the gender clinic therapists to talk to my team and tell them I was undecided and thinking about changing my mind. They all looked at me as if I was crazy. I asked for help in working through what had happened to me and the thoughts I was having about possible regret. They just stared at me. I thought to myself “this is a gender clinic. Surely, they can help me, as they had before?” No, they couldn’t. They said they “couldn’t help people” like me. They had no one there to help patients who may change their minds, experience regret or want to explore detransition. Seriously?! They couldn’t refer me to anyone. I couldn’t find a detransition therapist. They don’t exist.
Then I found my exploratory therapist. And my world changed, for the better. She was unbiased, had no agenda, and listened to me, actually listened. It was the first time someone listened to me. My parents were too busy fighting, I didn’t have girlfriends, the boys just played or wanted sex. Imagine that, me going to therapy and being listened too? Over time I received my diagnoses: gifted Autism (with slower processing speed and working memory), ADHD, learning differences, anxiety, depression, C-PTSD, an eating disorder and tocophobia.
My therapist told me about the research completed by Simon Baron Cohen et. al. That conditions related to steroid hormones function are more frequent in autistic girls and women and that they correlate with autistic traits. Seriously? They found that body mass index, reproductive system diagnoses, prediabetes symptoms, irregular puberty onset, and menstrual irregularities were significantly more frequent in autistic women. How come I only found out about this now? How come I didn’t receive this medical attention? How come I was never screened for Autism?
In summary, what I needed from you doctors and gender therapists was:
What I needed from you:
A comprehensive full assessment and diagnoses. My autism diagnosis and co-existing disorders, conditions and learning disabilities assessed and diagnosed. I needed this fully explained to me including my giftedness and learning challenges
My sexual abuse treated
Long-term therapy, including EMDR and somatic trauma therapy. Exploratory Therapy has been immensely helpful. Therapy that is modified for autistic people has been immeasurable helpful.
Time
Family Therapy
An occupational therapist
A speech therapist
It’s too late for apologise. You have all done great harm to me. Thank you to my grandmother and my exploratory therapist for saving my life and my sanity.
Yours Sincerely,
A traumatised detransitioner