My story started 12 years ago when my beloved husband was dying and our teenaged grandson brought us a little book that explained why "he had always felt different". It wasn't because he had been born to deficient, selfish unmarried parents, it wasn't because he was autistic, it wasn't because he had been abused by multiple stepparents and possibly by half-siblings. No, it was because "he was born in the wrong body." The psychologist who was treating two of his half-siblings had established that he, also, needed to transition to find the peace that he sought. "Buddy" is now 30 years old, and as far as I can discern is still living as a woman who plays games, has never held a job, or learned to drive and lives with his mother who works the system.