I had broken into people’s houses and was dressing up in women’s clothes. My mother was convinced I was crazy and should be locked up, so I was in the hospital from age 16 to 23. There’s a lot of blank spaces because the shock treatments affected my memory. 
    I had some homosexual relationships with older men. I was a kid and didn’t know much, so I dealt with it by saying it never did occur. Only it did. And it’s left scars. I’m afraid of sex, and I don’t relate to men too well. I’m a lesbian.

    I’ve never felt male even though I was, physically. But I had trouble making up my mind. I’d throw away all my clothes and start dressing male again. Next thing I know I’m starting to sneak women’s clothes and buy makeup. I went through it 10 or 15 times before I finally said, “The hell with this. I’m a woman.” 
    I was very unsure of myself sexually so I had no lovers. I was afraid I wouldn’t be doing it right, or I’d be laughed at, so I didn’t try. It was very frustrating.
    I don’t use labels any more. Whether I’m top or bottom or switch, I’m a person first. Anything else is secondary. I predict myself as a live-in French maid to a mistress. I want adventure. I won’t be stuck doing the housewife bit.