I lived in a small village in County Cork in Ireland. Everyone knew each other and there was a good community spirit. This is probably needed when only 700 people live in a town. The town had two small shops, a community centre, a school and of course a Church. It was a place where people took the time to help each other and speak with each other. Religion was important and was one thing that bound the people together.

Living in this village was as if we lived in a time capsule. People's views and morality were the same as their grandparents, and fashion was not really important. People wanted the town to be like one big family, where everyone had a responsibility and where everyone was safe.

I was not lucky. I had some bad experiences with certain men from the town. I will not talk about what happened, or the abuse, as that is a story for itself. The reason I mention it is to show that I have seen the dark side of society that has scared me in more ways than I could describe. This is important to remember, as my self-esteem and the way I reacted to things were influenced by this.

I lived with my parents and my 3 brothers. I was the second oldest child and was often considered the black sheep of the family. I did not like the things they did, and I was treated differently from what they were. They could spend hours playing sport or watching sport on TV. I was different. I would love to cook and write and sit and play with the kittens. Making crowns from flowers or trying to make baskets from nature was also a favourite.

My mom was sure that I would be a girl when she was pregnant. She was depressed when a boy was born. She always saw the feminine side of me and wanted that side to shine. This meant that she did not like me with short hair. In fact, she treated me as a girl until I was a teenager. I was transgender and did not even realize it. It was only when I was older, that I could see that a boy had short hair and did not wear girl's clothes. Mom accepted it when I rebelled and allowed me to be the person that I wanted to be.

Looking back at myself as I became a teenager. I looked like a boy. I still had long hair and I refused to get it cut. Despite that I tried to be a boy, I was very feminine in my interests and the way I looked and acted. It did not help that I did not enter puberty until I was 15. My voice did not break and I spoke with a high-pitched voice.

Despite the way my mother treated me, my parents were very conservative. At times, I felt like we were trophies and the image that we were properly behaved and had the right morals were important. We were told to only speak when someone spoke to us and not be a burden to other people. My parents were very religious, and they did their best to teach us about the church. This was despite that there was not a Bible in our house.

I went to a small school with 100 pupils. There were only 18 in my class. When you are only 18, then there was no room for drama or bullying. If you had a problem, then you would meet in the local park and fight it out. After this fight, everything would be forgotten and you were best friends again. Maybe it was because I was different, but I was involved in many fights. My tactic was to hit the persons’ throat, so they would fall to the ground, unable to breathe. Of course, there were fights in which this did not happen and I ended in pain on the ground.

One boy was teased. His name was Gerald. He came every day with a red suitcase and an apple in his hand. His mom walked him to school and gave him a kiss and a hug as she left. He was teased that he was a “momma boy” and it did not help that he was somewhat plump in stature. I was no saint. I was the one that teased him the most. Why did I tease him? I suppose it gave me status and power. I did try to apologize and try to be his friend. He refused and told me to stay away from him.

I was not bullied or teased. This is despite that I was different. I did not play sports like the others, and the only thing I was good at was swimming. They thought I was feminine but never gave me a bad time about it.

I did not have lots of friends. I had a few that were good friends. Granny told me once that this was normal. Girls always wanted best friends, while boys just liked hanging around in a group. My best friend's name was Timmy. He was overweight while I was skinny, and he did not get the good grades that I got. We were different but best friends. He was always worried about me as he suspected that I had dark secrets. I never did tell him about the abuse I experienced. I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth.

Gerald because was a Momma’s boy and I teased him. This was very a contradiction in itself. If anyone in the class was a momma’s boy it was me. She always told people that I was her favourite and this. I admired my mother and respected her a lot. I helped her do housework and even went shopping with her. This may not sound like anything to boast about. It was! Shopping with my mother was a challenge. We would go to Mallow, which was like a city to me. Mom would start on one side of the town and visit every shop. She knew the shopkeepers and would gossip with them. Then we would go to another shop and hear the same gossip. In the end, you could recite the gossip. This was torture and it did not help with all the people she met on the street.

When I became a teenager, our relationship changed. I was changing as I secretly was being abused. This eroded my self-esteem and made me more negative. The teenage hormones made it sure that I would rebel against my mother. We would shout and yell at each other and say the worse things we could think of. In a way, my mother was a victim. The anger I had was not because of her. The anger was the pain that the abuse has caused me. These fights became very common.

Another thing that changed me was when we talked about university one evening while we ate. I was luckier than my brothers, as my grades were very good. I wanted to do something with my life. Maybe I could be a teacher or even a priest. This was at a time when unemployment was high and there was not much hope for the future. I knew that the only way to survive was to go to university. Dad disagreed and said that he had no money to send us to university. We could work with him and get a trade.

Dad's work was in construction. He thought to have a trade was lifelong security. I disagreed and thought that third-level education gave me more opportunities in life. I had helped my dad when I had free time, and I hated every second of it. Construction was an important job, it was not just for me. We lived in a world where you did not have to follow in your father's footsteps. I wanted something else.

The fighting with my mother and the bleak prospects made me decide that I had to get out of town. I was only 14 and there were not a lot of options. I always told my parents that I wanted to be a priest and opportunity hit when a religious brother visited us one day. He said I should go to boarding school where I would slowly enter the religious world. I jumped at the opportunity and begged my parents to let me go. My dad finally agreed although I could see him worry at how much it would cost. I never thought that this was how much my parents loved me. They would sacrifice many things to help me.

Going to boarding school was a chance for me to get away from the secret abuse. It was away to get away from the invisible leash of my parents. It was a way to see the world and have a bright future.

When I told my friends, they thought I was a snob. Timmy said that only rich and spoiled children go to boarding school and I would never survive. Even the teachers thought it was a bad idea. One teacher asked me was the small school not good enough. Another teacher told me that ambition was a dangerous thing to have. Ambition would lead to sinning and unhappiness!

I was always close to my grandmother. She was worried. She had a serious talk with me one day when she said, “You are about to leave your family and face the world. I am afraid that you are trying to escape something you are hiding as a secret. You can never hide from problems, they follow you. You are so naive and have been protected by your family and town. It’s like a daffodil amongst thorns. Remember to keep a good heart and keep our Lord by your side.”

The day came when we drove to the boarding school. I had two suitcases packed and was excited as if it was Christmas Eve. The drive took us two hours. Mom was giving advice all the way.

We drove in my father's work van. When we came to school, I could see that other boys were getting out of the most expensive cars imaginable. I was embarrassed as I did not want to see them come out of a van. However, dad was losing his patience and I got out as quickly as I could

I stood there with my suitcases and was just astounded. This School was so large!