A conversation with mother, by Dorothy Colleen

I lay in my bed, trembling. My secret was out, and now I would have to face the music. How could I have been so stupid? Now my mom thought I was a thief, or worse. She came back into the room, looking like she had gained control of herself. “All right. I have had my scream, so now we can talk about this. First, I owe you an apology. A few moments ago, I reacted quite badly. I even accused you of being a thief. Well, I know better than that. You tell me you didn’t steal those nightclothes, I believe you. So, now I want you to tell me why. Why did you set yourself up to get caught?“ I said, “What? I didn’t want you to find out.“ She just smiled and said “You asked for a cup of hot chocolate, you get that nightie on, and then you climb into bed and try and use your sheet to hide it. What would you call it?” I stopped shaking my head, and thought about it. Had I wanted it to come out? “Well, we will leave that for now. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Slowly, shaking, I forced myself to get the words out. I told her I had been dreaming of dressing up, maybe even being a girl since I was maybe 5 or 6 years old. “And you didn’t tell me?” She asked. “I was ashamed, mom, and scared you would be ashamed of me too.” Sweetie, you are my child. I don’t claim to understand what you are going through, but I would never hate you.” “So what happens now?” I asked. She sighed. “ If you have been dealing with this as long as you say, trying to ignore it isn’t going to work, but I don’t know what we can do. We need to find an expert in this, there must be someone who can help us both.. Now I want you to get some sleep. Tomorrow, after school, I hopefully have an idea what to do next.”

And for the first time in my 16 years of life, I slept well.