It has been a very busy time for me recently. I first went to visit my old summer camp; I went there from 1991-2000, and worked my way up from camper all the way to medical staff/bunk counselor. I have so many memories from camp. I have come to realize that camp is literally the only reason why I survived my traumatic childhood.
Unfortunately, my father enrolled me at camp as a boy, which is why all of the letters that my counselors sent home to my parents used male pronouns. I brought back my childhood writing desk and a bunch of paperwork. My father had collected documents which chronicled my traumatic childhood and associated medical care. Along with it were reports from unnecessary psychiatric workups in which my father tried to convince me that I was male. By the looks of it, he spared no expense trying to get the doctors and therapists to agree with him and make me male.
The end result was an overwhelming bit of evidence to the contrary, as well as the numerous reports and my traumatic experiences trying to find the right words to convince my father that I was telling the truth, that I was actually female.
I returned to the Wilderness unit, where I spent years 1993 & 1994 as a camper. These were by far the best summers of my childhood.
August 1, 2022