The first time I tried to kill myself was in third grade, I was 8 years old. I slit my left wrist with a bic razor that was laying on the bathroom sink. It bled a quite a lot, I hid in the bathroom for a long time, crying and bleeding, hoping that death would come swift. It didn't. My moms friend and roommate Sheri became suspicious of why I had been in the bathroom so long and demanded I come out, which I did. She could probably already hear my sobs thru the door, but when I exited, my wrist wrapped in a washcloth tinged pink by blood, she immediately knew what I had attempted. Shari was concerned, she tried to get me to talk but I strongly refused. Church and remarks from the adults around me had made it quite clear that what I felt was shameful and sinful. I was so ashamed of my feelings that I dare not tell anyone, that in itself would be a fate worse than death. Instead I sobbed a little more, told her and my mom it was an accident, it was bullshit and they knew it, but Shari let me slide on it for some reason. Maybe out of confusion. If anyone could have related though it would've been Shari. She was gay, a victim of child abuse and molestation, she had had a difficult life and no doubt been where I was in those moments before. She didn't call me on it though, neither did my mom, which looking back now was probably for the best. It was 1991, trans people were certainly out there on the fringes, but on the whole society was blind to their existence, as was most of the medical community. If I had mustered up the courage to spill the beans to my mom and Shari that day they wouldn't have known how to handle it. Even if they had, there wouldn't have been any competent medical professionals to help. When I came out the first time in 2003 at the age of twenty, I started seeing a therapist, I saw our family doctor, both of them essentially shrugged and left me with a "sorry, I wish I could help." I can only imagine how it would've been handled twelve years earlier, it wouldn't have been positive I'm sure. That initial rejection ultimately led me back into the closet for another 7 years. Those 7 years, like the 27 before them, really only delayed the inevitable. From the time I was a year and a half old, essentially from the moment I developed a sense of self, I felt the dysphoria of feeling like a girl and the outside world seeing me as something else. Despite however I was presenting to the world, that feeling never changed, it never diminished, it only grew stronger as I aged. Eventually I had to make a choice. Not about who I was, I had been acutely aware of that for decades. No, I had to make a choice between living as who I had always known I was or ending my life. There had been so many times where my will was stronger and I thought I could "manage" how I felt. There were so many times where I decided that death would be the best and easiest choice and took steps to end my life that I considered at the time to be unfortunately unsuccessful. Now I look back in elation that they failed. I may have permanently harmed my body with those failed efforts, but I'm glad I'm still here. I've never been this happy in my life... I couldn't have imagined then that it was possible to be this happy. Transition was a choice I never wanted to make. I don't think it's something that any trans person ever wants to do. It's a necessity. Transitioning opens the door to so much discrimination and violence, but you reach a point where there are essentially only two choices. You either implode and cease to exist, or you explode. All the pressure of keeping who you really were over the years a secret, all the feelings and natural inclinations you've tried to squash down deep inside in places so dark no one will ever see come rushing out with amazing force. I still have tough times, sure, life by its nature is difficult for everyone. However, the fact still remains that transitioning was the best choice I've ever made and I haven't come to regret it for even a moment in the past 5 years. I'm finally happy, I'm finally me. I post my tale not in the hopes of drawing pity. I don't need it, these are events that have long since past. Events that I learned from, grew from. No, I posted this because laws like these keep popping up and I can't even imagine how much this legislation being in the news and discussed in living rooms throughout American is hurting trans kids. When I was growing up, trans people weren't discussed at all and I already felt terrible about who my feelings meant I was. All the hate and vitriol that's being spewed... being a kid that's having trouble grasping how they feel and seeking the courage to talk about those feelings... it's got to make them feel horrible. This stuff, enacted into law or not is actively hurting trans kids, it's actively killing them. It's easy enough to make the choice that death is better than living like this, I know, I've made it. Please do everything you can to prevent these kids from feeling so despised because I can guarantee you that even if they're not out yet or you're not aware of it, you know at least 5 trans people, maybe even your own child. Trans men, women and children who struggle every damn day with how they feel and how the world feels about them, please don't make it worse. It's hard enough as it is.