In summer 1996, I, along with my sister, entered the first year of college, which starts when you’re 12 and ends when you’re 18. The school had enough students to form a ‘vwo’ class, which is pre-university/pre-scientific education. And so for the first time I sat with people of equal intelligence. It was all very exciting. Walking through town without parents for the first time, on our way to school, with huge bags on the back of our backs. My mother thought book bags were better than regular backpacks, so I had been guided by her opinion, as I often did. At school it turned out that everyone had a normal backpack, and people laughed at our bookbags. It took me some time to get used to it. Occasionally I was bullied by people from other classes, for example at gym class and at recess, and sometimes, to avoid this, I spent the breaks in the school library. In my class there were some people with whom I did not feel at home, but there were also some with whom I did feel at home and I spent most of my time with them. For the first time I really got the feeling of friendship. The second year was already a lot more fun, and it would get better every year. In the breaks I usually sat with the same people and had a lot of fun! But even here my fears did not stop. I suffered from great insecurity, I did not always feel safe and puberty only reinforced this. Who was I? I was incredibly critical of myself. I developed a huge clothing problem and felt super insecure in new clothes and it was common for me to stop wearing certain clothes because it caused so much anxiety. Meanwhile, I was very busy, demanding a lot of attention in class by making noises, and constantly making fun of everything and everyone. These were all ways for me to deal with the intense, engulfing anxiety I had inside me.
The school vacations were a disaster. I had no distractions left and was hopelessly confronted with myself. I fretted like hell, and my fears were omnipresent. I totally destroyed my nails, gnawing them off until they bled. This gave me a sense of control. If I saw an exciting movie, I would not sleep for nights on end, and I would lie in my bed sweating, afraid of ghosts and other such things. I was also afraid that I would go blind, and get diseases. I missed my friends very much, one in particular, because I always had so much fun with them during school, and that was a reason to start doubting my orientation. But it wasn’t that simple, because the idea of being intimate with him really disgusted me, I didn’t get an erection at all when I thought about men, but the idea just kept popping up in my head whenever I thought about nice girls. I talked about this a lot with my parents. If they said they would love me even if I were gay, I felt like they were forcing these feelings on me, that’s how impressionable I was. Fortunately, when school started again, I was able to put this idea aside and focus on all the cute girls walking around the school. I had always been interested in girls; during puberty I also became sexually interested in them. I often fantasized about them.
During the breaks I often went to make music in the music room with some friends. We played the piano and the drums, and in this way I became more and more proficient with music. At home I did a lot with a music program that I copied from Mr. Hans, a music teacher at elementary school. I listened to music on a CD or on TV, and then tried to reproduce it note by note. I enjoyed that immensely. I also wrote my own music with this program. In the fourth grade, Johan, a friend of mine, had the wild idea of writing the music for the upcoming school play. I was cautious, but in the end I went for it. And the result was cool! Even better: the next year we would do it again, with an even better result. At that moment I felt really special. And only then could I be proud of myself, and really feel like someone.
But then the vacations came again, and the doubts started again. I noticed that I found a woman’s body beautiful, but that I could also find a man’s body beautiful. It didn’t turn me on, but I found it beautiful. This again was reason to become very anxious. It was really a problem for me, because I was undermining my self-confidence so much. I had periods for years where I was constantly testing: am I straight, gay, or bisexual? I was tossed back and forth and felt like someone else all the time. I was obsessed with it. This was horrifying. If I saw an ugly woman next to a handsome man, fear would strike my heart. Back at school, when there was structure in my days, those identity fears disappeared like snow in the sun.
Another thing that happened during puberty was that I became terribly afraid of transsexuals. When I rode the bus home from school, on a certain day at the station of a neighboring village, a woman always got on, who had some masculine features in her face, and she also had a bit of a low voice. I was convinced that she was transsexual (which, by the way, didn’t even turn out to be true), and every week on that particular day, I was highly panicked (inside), when we approached the station.
Great moments at school were the trips abroad. For example, in the third grade we had an exchange with Italy. Based on letters, you were paired with an Italian. And I was paired with what his classmates thought was the biggest loser in the class, how surprising. I was able to laugh about this for a long time. Details of when he was here I will spare you, even though it is hilarious. Later in the year we then went to Italy. For the first time abroad, because with my family we always stayed in the Netherlands. With my sister it didn’t go so well then. She felt very ill. I was doing better at the time, but at a sports competition I had to run a few kilometers. And I fainted during the run, exhausted, because I kept going and going and going without limits. I kept laying still on the track and my legs were fire-red. Soon my friends came running and lifted me up. I hardly had any strength left to walk, and my blood pressure was recorded at the ER, where they advised me to go to the doctor when I got home, and tell him about this incident.
In the fourth grade there was the Rome trip, where I took a lot of pictures, and later a trip of a few days to Belgium, where I mostly filmed, all moments that lifted my spirits. School was a great distraction for me and I had accomplished a lot there.
So when I was in my sixth and final year, doubt struck. What should I study? Why does college have to end now? I was especially into filming in the last year, and for social studies I made a film together with Anne, a classmate, as a practical assignment. That all became more and more fun, until we fell in love. But I was so afraid of the reaction of others, and so terribly ashamed, that at my request we kept it a secret for a while. We often wrote each other letters, which we then gave to each other at school. By the end of the school year, everyone knew anyway, it was gradual. I really enjoyed it, but when school ended, the doubts returned. I started to worry again. And it got worse and worse, the more intimate I became with her. In a sickly compulsive way I tested again all the men and women I saw, whether I liked them and whether they turned me on. Once again I was torn between heterosexuality, homosexuality and bisexuality, and once again it turned out that I had no clear identity, but I didn’t know that yet. Every time I thought of Anne, sexually speaking, a man came around the corner in my head, who took away all lust and made me afraid, so that as a conciliatory gesture to that inner man I started having cuddle fantasies, which completely upset me, because I also undermined my self-confidence in this way. Later this turned out to be a model for what I went through in the relationship with my parents. A new side effect was that sometimes it just felt like I had a woman’s body, bizarre that was. My self-image was so distorted, as if I had breasts, and a vagina, which I didn’t want. And that used to be one of my fears that I talked about with my mother: I was afraid that I would get breasts. I became afraid that I would have to undergo a sex change operation, against my will. Because I didn’t want it! But I was forced to do it, I felt. And I also had the compulsion to make feminine movements, but only when I was alone. I was very depressed then. I was first put on an antidepressant, Effexor, and that immediately brought some relief. But in the meantime I was taking my problems out on Anne. If she didn’t pay attention to me for a while or if she was talking to another boy, the blood would rage through my veins, I would be extremely jealous, and this was really painful. Only when anger for shared attention is allowed to exist, then a person can share attention, but with me my anger was very much constricted, it was not allowed to exist. And I felt like a pathetic heap. Because I also wanted to feel like a man with self-confidence, who was content with himself. But I was far from satisfied with myself. And was getting angrier and angrier. Whenever I was annoyed by Anne, which was more and more often, the infatuation was over. It was very black and white. During the graduation gala, which should have been so beautiful, I felt really bad, even though I had a beautiful girl next to me…
And then the vacations arrived. We were going to Paris at that time, and I was angry with Anne for a trivial thing. We talked about this on the phone, and then I hung up the phone in anger. Later, in tears, I tried to call her, but she was no longer there. I did not speak to her during the entire vacation, and it was clear that it was over. I was doing very badly and I was devastated!!! But with the medication I could put it into perspective better. I thought: I just let her walk away like that! What have I been worrying about all this time!? All at once I was rid of my symptoms, and I regained some healthy fighting spirit. At the end of the vacation, just before I left for university, I brought her a large framed drawing I had made of her as a farewell. I think it looked very similar to her. And then I could get on with my life again.
