My name is Sean Miller...actually it is my nickname. My real name will remain anonymous considering I hate it LOL. I haven't been transgendered all my life, as far as I know anyway. I can't say my life has been picture perfect. I don't have the T.V. parents or the commercial houses. I have two reality parents and an apartment. I am not rich, now by any strech of the imagination. Truthfully I am not sure what brought me to becomming transgendered. All I know is it happened, and when it did I realized a lot about myself and the people around me. More than I knew before.


Lets start from the beginning. I am 17 years old and made this page when I was 15. Some might say i don't know much about life because I am "young". But really teenage youth expierences a lot more in the 90's than their parents did way back when. So after the life I've led, I did learn a lot. I will say this ahead of time, I am not saying my life has been worse than everyone else. Mine turned out a lot better than it could have. Pretty much the real crap started around age five.


From the time I was born life hit me hard. My parents were poor and neither worked. So we lived off of what we got. We did live in a pretty nice apartment back then. We had an upstairs and a downstairs and two big bedrooms. So it was a nice place. But sometimes we couldn't pay our bills so it effected us greatly. In the middle of winter when snow was on the ground our power would go out, including the heat. So we had to wrap up in all the blankets to keep warm. I was a very big brat. I would never listen to my parents. I would throw tantrums about going to school, not wanting to go. I've always hated school. I usually got my way. But I payed a price. Since I managed to skip pretty much the entire year the school held me back. So now I am a year behind everyone else.


But soon things would get worse. My parents fought a lot. After a while I was use to it. So when they started fighting I didn't pay much attention. Put I did have a habit of climbing into my toybox and hiding in there until the coast was clear. But one day their fight went too far. Dad locked mom out of the house. Mom was furious and she walked up the street. I watched all of it from my bedroom door. It started to rain. She didn't come back for a little while. I stayed in my room, actually worried for once. Then I heard a knock on the door. I ran downstairs thinking it was mom and I should let her in. I opened the door and mom was there, but she was with 2 police men. Poor mom was soaking wet and cold. The police examined our place and decided that it wasn't suitible for me to live there anymore. The took me in their police car. That was the last time I saw my parents for a long time.


The police said that things would only get better for me, little did I know what was really in store for me. They took me to a place called Social Services. There I stayed until an old woman came. Her name was Mrs. Smith (I will keep the first name unknown). She seemed nice enough. She had two other girls with her. This would be my foster parent. The other two kids were her other foster kids. One was 14 the other was 5. So I was the middle child. Everyone thought Mrs. Smith was a saint, and at first I thought so. But really you never know a person until you look into theur eyes. And something in her eyes suggested that it would be a living hell living with her. I was right.


One day I remember that I woke up in the middle of the night. I did that a lot living with her. Pretty much the same time every night. I would usually just lay there until I fell asleep. The older girl shared the room with me. The older girl had a tendency to roll back and forth until she fell asleep, and when she started it made the bed squeak which drove Mrs. Smith nuts! So she never wanted her to wake up in the middle of the night. I kinda moved around a bit because I was hot. I suppose Mrs. Smith heard me and woke up. I heard her walking down the hall tword the room. I quickly turned around trying to pretend I was asleep. She saw me and knew I was awake. She asked if I tried to wake up the older girl. I told her no because I didn't. She got mad and accused me of lying. I tried to tell her I wasn't but she just went off and made me get up out of bed. She pulled me into the living room where there was a giant Grandfather clock that made a horrible loud chiming. She made me sit in the corner and she told me to sleep there that night. I cried, I will admit it because it was dark, I was only 6. Mrs. Smith made dolls. And so I knew in the next room there were a bunch of them that were missing eyes. It scared me a lot, I hated those dolls. I didn't get much sleep that night because of the clock waking me up and fearing the worst. The next morning was Sunday, I remember because I woke up and Mrs. Smith told me to get up and get ready for church. She made me appologise and promise never to do it again even though I never did anything. But I did so I wouldn't have to sleep in the corner again. I hated that night, it was the worst night of my life.


Thats not all the woman did, she made me eat my own vomit at one time. She beat the older girl with a belt, pulled the younger girl and mines hair. She did so much to us, I was better off with my parents. I told my grandmother about all the things she was doing. No one else believed me but her. So one day she took me out of there to live with her. I still wonder to this day whatever happened to the other girls. I hope I find them one day.


My grandmother was a very caring woman. I went to live with her at her house. My life turned around for a little bit. I had a pretty happy life for that period of time. I was pretty girlie back then, wearing skirts and stuff. But my self esteem was higher back then. I guess because my grandmother treated me with respect, the first I had ever recieved. But even though I dressed in girlish clothes that didn't mean I didn't like playing in the mud. I would play in the sand and explore the woods and get all dirty and do everything boys would do. Back then I didn't realize I was a natural tomboy. My grandmother would get pretty mad because I would get dirty and messed up. She figured it was just a little kid thing, but that wasn't really true.


I lived with her for about two years, having a fairly normal life at the time. But soon those two years would be roughy haulted when she decided to get re-married. Since she was moving to the beach, about 300 miles away, Social Services decided to return me to my parents. I guess they figured after 3 years of being seperated from me that they were well enough for me to come home. At first I didn't cope as well as they thought. I didn't call them "mom and dad". I called them by their first name. I don't know why I exactly did it, I guess I felt I didn't know them well enough to address them as that. Now I find it a little funny, but they didn't at the time. But soon I was on the track of calling them mom and dad again. At first things were going okay. They seemed normal, loving parents. So I figured my pain was over. But it was just begining.


We were poor and still are. But we managed. We lived in the apartment we live in now. Soon I thought that we should get a dog, that was my first mistake. We got a dog, he was a cute little puppy and I named him Goldie because of his fur. But none of us really knew how to take care of a dog. We fed him and took good care of him, the only real problem was taking him out for walks. Dad didn't think it was necessarily something we had to do. So the dog had no choice but to use the carpet. Dad nor I knew the consequences it would cause later on. During those times I started to hate school, not that bad really. Maybe I thought I liked school, but deep down I knew I didn't. I got good grades and awards and other things, so I was a pretty good student. In 4th grade I wasn't because I would skip school a lot, but in 5th grade I got my act together. So life was "okay" during that time. I wasn't depressed, I was relativily happy. But it didn't stay that way long...

I finished 5th grade with flying colors. I was happy with my grades. But now it was time for me to start middle school. To me it was a giant leap. But I didn't know that I was leaping into a canyon, only to fall to my death. In sixth grade I met what was going to be my future boyfriend. I didn't know it at the time. At first I thought he was ugly and annoying and that I would never go out with him. But strangly enough we became best friends. His name was Stephen. I would have to admit I loved sixth grade, one of my best years. I made great grades, I was known all over the county for my writing ability, I was actually happy and content with myself. The year went pretty smoothly. I ended up passing with A/B honor roll and the principals award. It was a prosporus year, also winning two writing contests. People expected so much from me in the future. The year ended and on the last day of school we had to run out of the building to the buses so we wouldn't get wet from the pouring rain. I remember that Stephen said he would call me over the summer, He didn't even have my number. ::chuckles::


The summer flew by, I hardly remember anything that happened. But then the 7th grade year begun. I was expecting as good of a year that year as the one before it. But it was totally opposite. That year I met what is still my best friend, Miranda. The begining of the year was pretty good. Stephen started getting very bitchy with everyone. He treated me more and more like crap. I was starting to wonder about him, asking what was bothering him so much. I almost ended our friendship. But instead Mira suggested that I ask him out. I wont go into detail about the whole night but we ended up going out. It was pretty happy times. Of course I was horribaly girlie just to impress Stephen. I remember that I had to preform in chorus so i wore high heels, high heels!! They were horrid! I could barely walk in them, I almost tripped on the bleechers. I was embarassed. I knew they weren't for me. I hated Chorus to begin with, but Stephen made me feel so happy and all. The happiness didn't last for long. About a month and 2 weeks after I asked him out on January 7th 1998, he gave me a break up letter. The worst part about it was it was the day after my birthday. I was crushed, it hurt so bad. I tried to get him back, but he wanted nothing to do with me. We were never friends again.


That was the blow that took me down. I felt so depressed and alone. I guess since I was so young and fragile as I was it was too much for me to take. My grades began to drop, I hardly cared about school anymore. I started to go online (since I got it right when we broke up) and I made a slut out of myself. I went after any man I could find, especially in chatrooms. This went on for about a year. Soon different changes began to occur. I started going online under the name "Stephen". I forgot what gave me the urge to do so but I did. I started acting like a man and going after women instead. This was probably at the begining of the 8th grade year. I started dressing more tomboyish, hanging around with guys more, and trying to pull my act together. I didn't really think I was bisexual back then, but I knew I didn't really like being a woman. Although I did make a few last attempts to see how I could do as a woman such as wearing makeup or wearing tight clothes. Of course it didn't go too well so I gave it up finally. The 8th grade year was a fairly good year. Miranda ended up going to another school so I was pretty much stuck alone in the hell pit. I started to drop once again grade wise and self esteem wise. I started not doing my work, just marking answers on tests without reading the questions, just shitting myself out. I knew I was in trouble.


I knew that I would fail the year. It was very clear, but somehow I didn't give a rats ass. I walked the halls like a zombie, feeling sorry for myself. I knew better than to be the first in the lunch line, because I would be able to hear the endless laughter behind me all the way to lunch. I knew they were laughing at me. I had to force myself not to turn around because they would give me this look, a look that would make a man go insane. It said "I am better than you, and you know it". I wanted to rip their eyes out! But I continued to walk and be made a circus clown out of. But then the gates of hell opened to let me out. The school year ended and as I figured I had failed. But my half sister, Jenny, decided to get me out of the jam. She took me to california in July. There I had tutors at UCLA and she wrote letters to the school and so on. That is all it took to get them to pass me. I liked California, it was a new expierence for me. Jenny and I then drove accross the country back to NC. That trip was fun but Jenny seemed to turn her back on me. I was trying to tell her how I wanted to dress like a boy and such, but she disagreed with me. I was going to live with her as well, but I decided that I wouldn't be able to get along with her enough to do so. She was furious at me, I told her I was sorry but that was all it took for her to be very moody with me. So after that we haven't got along very well.


Well I took the final step to becomming masculine, I cut my hair. I cut it to the boy length, and I think that it looks better short. This was right before the 9th grade school year started. I went to Old Navy and got my boy clothes, and made sure that I was ready for the school year. I knew that this year I wanted to be a boy. Instead of going by Stephen I decided on Sean, I liked it and it suited me. So now I am in 9th grade, I can't say now that I have figured out who I really am that it has been easier. People are cruel in this world, you can't trust everyone. And people in my school are the cruelest of all. But I have to live through it to the best of my ability. If you want to know the happenings of my 9th grade school year then go to the Daily Journal and see my day to day happenings.


I want to thank these people for their help and support over the years. Without you I would be trapped:

Diane, Jenny, My grandmother and grandparents, my dad and mom, and all the transgendered people who helped me understand who I was.


For all the transgendered teens out there dont give up. If we can show the world that we can survive, then we will win the battle. You can look at my story and know that I have been through a lot of crap, but I am still fighting. And so can you. Survive, thats all you need to hear.

"I may not believe in what you say, but I will fight to the death for your right to say it!"




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