ABSTRACT
Initially, on the discovery of my true sexual identifi cation, I felt like a leaf on a current: fl owing along, being tossed about, and then being trapped in a whirlpool and swirling in circles. Why didn’t I know about myself before? Was it my environment? Genetics? Both? My feelings were of total desperation and, at the same time, overwhelming longing. An act as simple as sitting in a cafe and watching other women laughing or walking together, arm in arm, brought excruciating pain.
