In her own words -- my daughter's story

Our great therapist has been working with Jessica to write her own story in her own words. Here it is:

Title: This is How I Feel about Me

By: Jessica (In her EXACT words)

When I was born, I felt I was a girl, and when I was a little bit older, I got some girl toys.

I was adopted, and my adopted mom knew what I was going through.

She said my birth mom was very sad to let me go.

When my mom tells me that my birth mom was very sad to give me up for adoption, I feel sad.

Sometimes when I feel sad, my mom tells me I don't have to be afraid to wear girls' clothes in public. That makes me feel a little bit better.

My mom adopted other kids. First, she adopted my brother. Then she adopted me. Then she adopted my sister (she was a little bit older, and she loved me for who I am.)

When I got a little bit older, I started to put makeup on. I want to grow my hair out like a girl's hair. I want to take all my boy toys to a garage sale, and I want to get my own makeup kit.

Sometimes with out permission, I take some of my mom's makeup. When I come out, I don't look like a clown, and my mom notices that I have some of her lipstick on, and she laughs.

I don't have that much jewelry. Sometimes I ask my mom for some jewelry. Sometimes I get too crazy! Sometimes I flick my hair like a girl's hair.

I watch a lot of girl movies and TV shows and sometimes, in my imagination, I don't be boys a lot. I am a girl in my imagination a lot.

Sometimes, I go in my sister's room to get something for her and sometimes I look at all her stuff.

My sister has a rare doll. Her doll was built a long time ago. Now they don't make her anymore, and I feel kind of sad for that doll, because she can't have friends just like herself.

When I go to first grade, I wish that I can wear girl clothes. I hope the people at school will know who I am. I hope that nobody makes fun of me.

I hope my first grade teacher will remember who I am. Sometimes, I am scared that my first grade teacher won't know who I am and won't remember that I was a kindergartener who visited her class.

I hope that I will still have friends, and I hope that my friends won't laugh at me.

The end.