“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

— Carl Gustav Jung

Hi, my name is Kaila (She/Her/Hers/Pan-sexual) I am 59 years old, and I am Transgender. As a transgender woman, I can only speak for myself. Every transgender person's dreams, views, and journey are vastly different. These are my views. This is my journey, and MY dream, which I share with you now with complete transparency. I am not ashamed of who I am, my past has left me scarred and terrified to become who I should have always been...a woman. I have always had gender dysphoria and it cripples me to this day. I loathe my face and body and it makes me nauseous to look at my reflection. It was VERY hard to share photos of me with my story here.

In all honesty, this has been the hardest thing I have ever written in my life to date. Even though it reopened a lot of wounds, I didn't write my story for pity. It has taken me 3 years, a massive amount of trauma, tears, and pain; and a lot of prayers for strength and courage to be able to finish telling my story. I will warn you, some readers may find some of the content of my story graphic or triggering. I had thought about condensing my story, so it isn't daunting to read. After many hours of soul searching, I concluded, that if I leave out parts of my life in my story, I will be leaving out part of me, and the journey that brought me here. So my apologies in advance for a long read. My whole story needs to finally be told. Even if it doesn't help me reach my goal, at least maybe, it can help others find solace and peace. This is about how other people see me, and, it is about how I see myself. The only thing I ask of you before you scoff, raise an eyebrow or judge me; walk a mile in my shoes, and please read my story in its entirety. 

Birth and a dream

I was born on August 9, 1963. The only “son” and youngest in a Christian family of three sisters. My Mother and Father, born 1925-1926 were very old-fashioned. We were poor, very poor. My Father was a cold man and worked 3 jobs to support the family. He never once told me he loved me. My Mother was very soft-spoken, loving, and nurturing. My siblings and I were never close.

I knew I was different from a very early age. I realized I liked things that most boys (I still loathe any reference of myself to this gender) did not like. Cooking, dolls, pretty lacy and feminine things, I loved. I was treated so horribly by my peers and other kids. I struggled all through pre-school and elementary school (1967-1978) being bullied, called hurtful, derogatory names, and beaten up almost daily. Even though I didn't fully know what “gender” meant at such a young age, I instinctively knew the difference between boys and girls. I felt envious and extremely jealous of women, especially girls my age. I wanted to be like them. I wanted to look like them so badly, I would pray every night that I would wake up the next day and be a girl. To have the soft feminine curves, long pretty hair, and delicate allure they possessed. Time passed, and prayers went unanswered. Day after day, I would awaken every morning still in the body I found grotesque and detested. I had no friends and couldn't tell my parents or siblings, they would have never understood. Yet somehow, I survived. 

This tormented life continued all through high school (1979-1982), on a constant rinse and repeat cycle, getting worse and more frequent and violent. Beatings at school became so regular, by groups of boys, (sometimes as many as 8 boys at once). I was told by my Father to “man up” and go to school. I suffered so much physical pain, my nose was broken 2 times in 4 years, broken wrists, cracked ribs, and the mental anguish was unfathomable. Still no friends, an outcast, I became more withdrawn and isolated. I hated high school and everyone in it. I truly wanted to give up but, somehow, I survived and graduated.

My journey begins

It wasn't until after graduation in 1982, I was 19, I finally discovered I was transgender. Still determined, after all I had been through, I never gave up. Four more long years of attacks, beatings, and relentless torture passed. I was now 23 years old. My “physical” transition began in the Fall of 1986. During this time in the '80s, transitioning was difficult, to say the least. There were no resources or information available that there is today. No internet, google, or any support groups. 

I started going to gay clubs so I could feel safe and accepted. I sat alone and isolated because I was still very anti-social and I did not trust anyone. One night, I met a drag queen named Lilly, who literally “schooled” me and took me under her wing. She accepted me and loved me for who I was and for the first time in my life, I experienced what it was like to feel safe and loved. She never asked me for anything in return for her kindness. She took me to her endocrinologist, who started me on hormone replacement therapy (HRT). We went shopping, buying beautiful girly clothes for me, she had my ears pierced and taught me how to do makeup and my hair. I remember feeling, for the only time in my life, so euphoric and at peace. She was my sister, Mother, friend, and guardian angel I never had. With her help, I was able to legally change my name, and I start living and working full-time as my true authentic self, the woman I should have always been. I was having the best time of my life, I was so happy. Unfortunately, like everything else in my life, the happiness didn't last.

Three months into my transition, my sister, Mother, and my only friend, Lilly, took her own life. I felt so lost, destroyed, helpless, and betrayed. I screamed and cried for weeks on end. I remember falling to my knees and beating my bare fists on the cold cement until they were bloodied. I felt as if my heart had been ripped from my chest. I was alone again. Terrified, I wanted to die. Suicidal thoughts were so heavy on my mind, they were all I thought about. Somehow, now 6 months into my HRT and transition, I wondered how I made it this far. A question that went unanswered until much later in my life. I honestly believed I would be dead before I was 30. Depression, gender dysphoria, and suicidal thoughts controlled me. I was a zombie.  

Sitting here, now, crying my eyes out as I recall every painful memory, and share my story with you, this is the most difficult and painful part of my journey to tell. I have carried this with me, it has tortured and haunted me for over 30 years.  

Fallen Angel and the death of me

I had just gotten off the bus after work, it was 11:00 pm. March 22, 1987. On my way home, I was followed by a group of 4 males. They were catcalling and whistling. I felt my heart pounding and I remember feeling like I couldn't breathe. I tried to walk as fast as I could and I remember vividly, how fast the guys caught up with me. Once they found out I was transgender, I was brutally beaten and repeatedly raped by the men and left for dead in a ditch in the woods. When I awoke days later, in a hospital, I was broken mentally and physically. I suffered broken ribs, my nose was broken for the 3rd time, my jaw fractured, and both eyes had been beaten so badly, they were black and swollen shut. My skull had been split from my right temple almost to the crown from being beaten so horrifically on my head. I had no one to turn to for support, I was alone. I was defeated. I was terrified to be myself, to let others know of my real identity as a trans woman. 

Unfortunately, this was how I was forced to live my so-called life.

Society had won. They had turned me into the monster I had tried so hard to fight against my whole life. I became bitter, violent, and aggressive with each passing day, and found myself hating the world, and everyone in it more and more. Being forced to live as a male and not my true identity, felt like an eternal death sentence, condemned to damnation. I was numb. So far down the rabbit hole, with manic depression, and suicidal thoughts, I had hit rock bottom. Filled with furious aggressive anger, I swore to myself I would never be a victim again.  

My life, my prison

The brutal beatings and torture eventually stopped once I healed and was forced to live my life as a male. I was violent and turned to the darkness, it consumed me.

Now 26 long years later, in November of 2012, I was diagnosed with ocular melanoma. I lost my left eye to cancer, I was told if my eye wasn't removed, cancer could spread to my brain and death would be imminent. This news threw me deeper into my depression and self-isolation from others. Yet, I somehow beat cancer and survived. What little self-esteem I had left, was now gone. It took 9 years to get insurance to pay for my prosthetic eye, which cost $10,000. I knew in my heart, I couldn't continue living if I had to be a male. If I could not be the woman I am, the woman I longed to be, over all these years, I did not want to live. I was angry at myself for allowing the actions of society to rob me of my youth and the only chance to be the woman I knew I was. In May 2017, now 31 years after my horrific beating, believing it couldn't get any worse, I fell into severe manic depression and lost my job, apartment, and my remaining dignity. I became homeless. Living on the streets, sleeping when and where I could, and eating from garbage cans when I could find food. I didn't ask anyone for anything. I didn't panhandle, beg or care anymore. I was just waiting to die.

Darkness into light

In July 2019, still homeless, dirty, ragged, and defeated, a stranger came to me. He didn't know me from Adam or Eve, He walked up and introduced himself and without hesitation, he said to me "I believe in you and you are going to do great things..." Even though he and I had never met, a feeling washed over me and he gave me something I hadn't felt in such a long time. He gave me hope. He proceeded to sit and talk with me, treating me with so much respect, empathy, and compassion, more than I had ever experienced my entire life. Later as he talked and shared, I found out he was a certified peer support specialist working for a mental health agency. I remember crying like a child as I told him I couldn't cope any longer and wanted to die.

With his support, I began seeing a therapist and my slow road to recovery began. I was diagnosed with PTSD, social anxiety disorder accompanied by panic attacks, claustrophobia, agoraphobia, severe depression, suicidal thoughts, depressive anxiety, body dysmorphic disorder, and gender dysphoria. Through many months of therapy, I slowly began feeling more motivated and supported. I knew in my heart, I had to restart my transition. I needed to feel whole and complete. I was nervous and terrified of re-transitioning at age 56. I had, and still have to this day, horrific nightmares and flashbacks of my traumatic past that has haunted me for so many years. 

I finally began HRT again in July 2020. I was beginning to feel grounded and for the first time in so many years, had peace and happiness. That, unfortunately, like my whole life had been, was short-lived.

Fourteen days after restarting HRT, I was rushed to the hospital and as I lay on the gurney in the ER, I was told my blood sugar was over 700, and my A1C was 19.7%. I never knew I was diabetic. I was informed I could go into a coma or, not survive. As I lay there, I thought, "This is it...this is how I'm finally going to die." The attending physician told me in all of her 20 years, she had never seen anyone still functioning with levels as high as mine were, without the person being either in a coma or deceased. I remember her exact words like they were a few minutes ago... "I have no medical explanation as to how you are still functioning...I'm calling it a miracle". It was at that moment, I felt a warm hand on my shoulder and I heard God's voice "All your life you have been asking and wondering where your miracle is...look in the mirror, YOU are the miracle."

Rebirth and reawakening

Now 3 years later, my diabetes is well-managed and under control. Through hope and inspiration, I found purpose. I took the training and became a certified peer support specialist and began working for a mental health and addiction recovery community center in April 2021. Now, I help those in need, giving hope and spreading awareness that there is hope beyond your wildest expectations. I am a strong advocate for the LGBTQIOA+ and transgender community and in 2022, I was a recipient finalist for the community activist award by the NKY PRIDE center. 

I continue to walk my path of recovery. Every day is still a struggle. Yet, I know and believe in my heart, there are good people out there in this unforgiving world. I have faith in humanity because I see it every day. I am not just a survivor; I am a hope dealer giving back and supporting the community. 

My goal

Is to have all of my gender-affirming surgeries by next year, on or before turning 61. I work 40 hours a week. With my current pay, it would take a minimum of 10 years to save money for my surgeries, and that is without spending anything. I live in senior living and struggle to even pay my rent. I have insurance but, they will not cover any surgeries because they classify them as elective cosmetic and not medically necessary. My medical and other bills are piling up and I'm terrified of losing everything again and becoming homeless. I have included cost estimates for all needed procedures and show how and where the donations will be spent.

Facial Feminization Surgery cost: $35,000 - $50,000

FOREHEAD BONE RECONSTRUCTION (TYPE III), $4,000-$8,000

 HAIRLINE ADVANCEMENT, $3,200-$6,520

 EYEBROW LIFT, $1,450-$3,400

 RHINOPLASTY, $3,865-$5,020

 CHIN CONTOURING, $3,370-$5,420

 JAW CONTOURING, $3,370-$5,510

 CHEEK IMPLANTS, $2,290-$4,080

 UPPER LIP LIFT, $1,770-$3,110

 TRACHEAL SHAVE, $2,180

 NECK LIPOSUCTION & NECK LIFT, $5,400-$10,041

 FAT INFUSION TO THE LIPS, $1,585

Breast augmentation $4,850-$10,000

I have included before and after photos to show how important these surgeries are to me and how they will change my life forever. The before photo is how I look now. The after photo is just a simulation of how I "could look" finally getting the procedures listed above.

Before Facial Feminization Surgery (FFS)

Simulation from a cosmetic surgeon, how I could look after FFS

My final wish

I will be 60 years old soon and 5 decades have passed. I will fight to my last breath to finally be my true self. Without doubt or hesitation, continuing my transition, and getting facial feminization surgery and my gender-affirming surgeries, will help give me the peace of mind and confidence I desperately need to rebuild my self-esteem and live my days, however long God will continue to bless me in my remaining time on earth, as the woman I knew I always was but never got the chance to be. I cannot achieve this goal without your help and support. So, I'm asking for your help. Please share, and re-post my fundraiser. Please donate what you can.

This is my last chance to make my dream come true.

Thank you,

Kaila