They would not release from something. It felt like sticky netting glued to her body. It was as if she was metal and these strands were goo-magnets. Realization sank in, she was not in a bed but suspended. ‘How high?’ She gasped and looked but couldn’t tell. She went to glance around and found her hair was stuck to this tacky, yet sturdy stringing substance. ‘Hello?’ Lynn cried, tilted her head and listened for a reply. Hearing only a faint echo of her words in a distance. Her breathing was the only thing that broke the silence. She grunted lightly as she made a strong attempt to free one of her arms. Pulling, then jerking to no avail. The netting wobbled in a wave of motion. Lynn stopped tugging and swayed with the movement like a finger in a barrel of water, her own movements made the ripple. Back and forth in a slight see-saw swing till her body hung there, still. ‘Hello! … Hello!’ She gave several yanks in the darkness but felt the pain of her hair being pulled out on her. Yes, of course." I was right about this visit. Dr. Olsen wasgoing to have a big say in what gender therapy I would be allowed beforeI turned eighteen. Need to keep focusing on the questions and answercarefully. No more indecisive 'I guess so' answers."After talking with Bishop Grant, did you continue to dress up andpretend to be a girl?" For a year or so I while I tried to be a boy, but it didn't feel right.I kept dreaming of how wonderful it would be if I could live as a girl.I often visited Ms. Stewart next door. She was like a grandmother to allthe kids in the neighborhood, and she always listened to me. At first itseemed awkward talking to her about right and wrong because she did notbelong to our church. Bit by bit she pried out my story, and to myamazement she was not upset. She was understanding and supportive. Sheeven she started to invite Mom over to talk about me without Fatherbeing around. She told us about the Unitarian church and said ReverendDennis Parker would be a.
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