Trisha Hairingtan: My life began like many others. Boy meets girl, girl and boy fall madly in love, and boy pops the question. That being said, Sandra K. Davis and Patrick G. Portell got married at the home of the bride's aunt in St. Louis, on, of all days, Friday, June 13th, 1970. You may ask your self,Why Friday the 13th? Well, the two young lovers where going to, once and for all, change the stigma surrounding that date. After getting married, they moved to Paducah Kentucky. Before they had time to take a deep breath, and plant their feet, my dad decided to plant his seed. I was born on October 25th, 1971, two months premature; my weight was estimated at 2lbs, 6oz. Without wasting time, Drs attached the tubes to help me breath and eat. They explained to my parents that I would have to remain in the hospital, until I reached the weight of 5lbs.The importance of this, was so they could monitor my lung function and weight gain. On November 24th, one day before Thanksgiving, with no special needs, and weighing in at 4lbs, 14oz, my mother was able to convince the hospital to discharge me. Unlike fairy tales, life doesn't always end with a happily ever after. Mom and dad where divorced in 1973 when I was two years old. Mom then moved us to St. Louis, Mo, where we stayed with my maternal grandmother. After only being there a week or so, mom managed to get us into a small apartment. It wasn't long before she realized that, there was no depending on family for help .A 20 year old mother, with no support system, trying to solve transportation issues, and confronted with the complete lack of child care, she grudgingly decided to take me to live with my dad. After taking me to Dads, Mom moved to Little Rock, Arkansas where she meet and married Laurence A. Bartlett on June 7th, 1974.Meanwhile;in Paducah, dad wasn't hearing the blissful sounds of wedding bells. Instead it was the screaming sirens of John-Q-Law. Knowing that there was the distinct possibility of prison time, he returned me to my mother's side. By 1975, life started to get a little more normal. Some of my earliest memories of that year include, standing on a pier at Fisherman's Wharf in San-Francisco CA. Then we traveled from the west-coast of CA, to Texas, and then into some of Mexico. When we got home, life preceded the day to day grind of being a child, running and playing where my only responsibilities. In the following months things took a drastic change for the worse. Laurence's (Larry's) insecurities of being a stepfather, started manifesting into anger, directed towards me. The beatings started the first time I refused to call him Dad. I want go into the details of what happened. How ever, I will say that I still remember the feeling, of the cool concrete floor against my body. It is truly amazing to me, the details a four year old mind can retain. There was one bright shining star, which helped me though the dark times. She was my best friend Shaula. Shaula and I played everything together, house, nurse, school, and baby dolls. We even road tricycles to pretend stores to shop for outfits.The only time we would ever argue, is when she would try and tell me that I was a boy.Eventually she stopped trying to convince me, and we just went on being, Bestest Friends. In 1976 two of my favorite memories took place. At four years old my mom took me to the movie theater for the fist time, we saw Rocky; it's still my favorite movie of all time. Then at age six, the opportunity presented itself for me to do a series of photo shoots for Levi Strause. The photos where then placed in several different catalogs for that year. I still own one of these catalogs to this day. When I'm having a real bad day, I get it out and relive my fifteen minutes of fame, or maybe pop in my old Rocky DVD. Later that same year Larry joined the Air Force. So we packed up and moved to Columbus Mississippi. The move was emotionally devastating to me. Leaving Shaula would prove to be one of the most tragic experiences of my childhood. My feelings of loss and separation where lessened by the U.S. Postal Service and the letters we shared. Larry left the Air Force after his tour of duty was over in 1978.We then moved back to Little Rock. Over the next several years life was great. My mom got pregnant with my brother Joe and then eleven months later she had my baby sister Laura. I began to make lots of friends and playing hopscotch, jacks, double-dutch and riding bikes, where my new favorite past times. 1982 signaled the end of the nave blissfulness that was my youth. This was the year of the great move, from Little Rock Ark to St. Louis Mo. Can you say culture shock? City kids where different. They cursed, drank alcohol, did drugs, fought and ran the streets with little to no parental guidance. Later after I settled into my new school, something wonderful happened. After many years of separation, I was reunited with my real dad. Dad was the quintessential mans-man. I still remember the sense of pride and the feeling of security as he walked me around his neighborhood Introducing, me to many people along the way. I was astonished by the respect people showed him and their willingness to accept me. It didn't take me long to learn that, appearances could be deceiving. It wasn???t necessarily respect that they where showing, It was fear. You see my dad was an old time debt-collector,the kind you dont hang up on. In 1983 my inability to cope with my Gender Identity Disorder (G.I.D) became increasingly obvious. Not only to myself, but also too the bullies who seemed to make taunting, teasing and hitting me, a right of passage. To make matters worse, later that summer, I was raped by a friend of the family's, after working in his garden. The birth of my youngest brother John was truly a gift of sanity in an otherwise insane year. In 1984, at thirteen years old, I feel deeper and deeper into the emotionally black abyss that was my depression. My body wasn't developing as it should; instead it was becoming more masculine. With every passing day the yearning to develop and function as a female grew. Finely it consumed my every thought, until suicide or self-mutilation seemed like the only solutions, for the hopelessness I felt. I spent the next 9 years trying to destroy a life I didn't want. I did a pretty good job of it too. I stayed drunk and high everyday and put myself in potentially deadly situations. Life could not be fast or dangerous enough. I was riding the testosterone train on a fast track to self-destruction. In 1992, I was 22 years old. I remember standing at the altar with my first wife, let's call her T. Up their in front of our families, I couldn't help questioning myself, is this really happening, am I dreaming? And with one simple question,do you Patrick take T? I quickly popped to awareness. With a resounding,Yes,I put all the troubles of my past behind me. The search to fulfill, my longing to be pregnant, led to the births of two children. Our daughter Samantha was born in 1993 and our son Patrick in 1994.I did it, I finely had my family. So why was I still not happy and at peace with myself? Why wouldn't the yearning to look and function as a female, go away? The next 7 years went roaring by like an out of control roller coaster. With its ups and downs, twists and turns racing towards its inevitable demise. Such as it is in life, all good things must come to an end. T and I separated in early 2000 and where divorced by the end of 2001. I met the love of my life in late 2000. Let's call her J. J possessed all the qualities; I thought I wanted in a significant other. She was loving, compassionate, strong willed, beautiful and smart. This time I was going to try harder. We began building our life together rather quickly. We had our first child Angelina in august 2001.Then on September 11th, 2003 we had our son Nico. And last but not least, little Ava in February 2009. Even though we loved each other, our relationship was not all peaches and cream. Despite our trials and tribulations, we decided to get married Supper Bowl Sunday February 1st, 2009. I found myself at 38 years old, once again, standing at the altar, this time thinking, how much I've longed for this day. As the preacher said those, oh so familiar words,Do you Patrick take?I started crying uncontrollably, fearing that my (G.I.D) would tear us apart. In November 2009 my fears turned into reality as J said that it was just too hard to live with. After spending some time homeless, I now live with my mom. I stay in contact with my children as much as possible. And I try to occupy my time with school and the dreams of a brighter tomorrow. When all the tears are shed, I choose not to be defined by my mistakes or hardships, but rather to overcome and grow from them. I trust that one day I will possess the character and obtain the knowledge to help others, lending them a helping hand out, from behind the shadow so they might find the courage to reach into the light of a life filled, with the promise of today and the hope for tomorrow. I leave you now with the immortal words of Rocky Balboa, It's not about how hard you can hit but about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward, it's how many times you can get knocked down and keep getting back up. |
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