As a 26 year old transgender male, many people would expect the adversity I have conquered to be my transition but that is not it at all. My transition has had its difficulties and it always will. For me though, it has been one of the easiest situations that I have faced. Hello, my name is Jude Castiel Kellum and this is my story. I was born in Burbank, California in October of 1994. I was born to a mother, a non-biological father and two older sisters. I grew to be a silent child. I spoke but not muh nor very often. At five years old, everyone began removing the masks they had been wearing for the world to see. That year, I remember my mom and dad began fighting when our car broke down. My mom liked to be in charge and my dad was very sexist when it came to women working on cars. The situation ended up splitting them up by the time we arrived home. My dad knew that biologically I was not his but he made me get a DNA test. He threatened that if the results were negative, I'd never see him again. He kept true to his word because I didn't. After that my mother became an even worse person than she already was. My mother was abusive. She would kick me, push me down porch steps, hit me with objects like a frying pan, and choke me. Of course with this came a lot of verbal abuse. When I was almost 8 though, she began dating this man and moved us in wth him after only one month. From my 8th to my 12th birthday, he was sexually abusing me. I quickly turned to self harm. She did not know about it but she was told by man the kind of man she was with. She found out he was cheating on him and that is what caused her to leave. She did this by forcing us out at midnight. We left with nothing and moved across country to find my "dad". Who still had nothing to do with me through my teen years. Meanwhile, she was still abusive and had grown to starving me or shoving more food down my throat than I could handle. I became a parent at 15. Not how you'd think though. My oldest sister had a son that she abused and abandoned. I took him under my wing at 2. We moved out when I was 22. That was my first step in solving my adversity. My mother followed me across the country but my next step is to say goodbye. To not let her have control anymore. It's a slow process but I'm working on my healing journey. I know that with due time, I will be successful in doing doing. At 26, I am diagnosed with Autism, Complex P-TSD, Major depressive disorder, and Social anxiety disorder. Medications do not work. My psychiatry team is considering Electrocompulsive therapy. It was not my diagnosis though that brought me to the field I desire to work in. It was my upbringing. I knew from age 13, that I wanted to help. I desire to complete my psychology degree and move on to be a clinical psychologist. Ultimately, I'd like to run my own clinic where I set up several rooms with various forms of therapy for our youth. Rooms such as Animal, Art, Music, Talk, etc. Why? Talking doesn't always work for children. Some of them are often to afraid to speak up, I would know.

Complex? That is what my entire up bringing had been. Complex? That seems to have followed me into the experience of mental health I have. You see? I have Complex- Post traumatic stress disorder. The mother who raised me had untouched trauma from her own childhood that she chose to express to me in the ways she knew best. It was such an abusive relationship to the extent she allowed others to hurt me in other horrific ways. My mother was..IS..mentally ill. In one way or another but she suppressed it in ways that she shouldn't have. Through my life I was able to remain calm and collective. I was underspoken and very passive. That was until my late teen years when I began dating a woman who stated she had Borderline personality disorder. Back then, I was not very educated on different disorders or mental health entirely. I was accepting that she had her illness. I had my own at that time, Social anxiety disorder and depression. However, she went without help. She used it as an excuse to harm me in every which way. To the point, I landed in the hospital with eleven stitches in my forearm. Meanwhile, my son was left at home with his Nana in the middle of the night while I snuck to the hospital. My brain snapped the moment I found out 4 year old son woke up and found my blood through the kitchen yet I was missing. After I finally escaped from her clutches, my brain slowly became different. It is as if I could feel myself breaking. Fast forwarding to my early 20s, I began dating a woman who I'd been close with for seven years at that time. She was the first that began to see sides of me that never existed. I became suicidal and angry in ways that were not who I wanted to be. I was punching holes in walls, screaming. I'd hit myself every way I possibly could. That is when I seemed help and found myself with a C-PTSD diagnosis. It took me a couple years to truly acknowledge the diagnosis for more than just the name. I was just glad that the medication stopped the anger outbursts for the general period of time. I have my moments but never as excessive and toxic. I am studying psychology in college. I desire to help those in every way but I also have an extreme curiosity on how our brains function.

Complex? That is what my entire up bringing had been. Complex? That seems to have followed me into the experience of mental health I have. You see? I have Complex- Post traumatic stress disorder. The mother who raised me had untouched trauma from her own childhood that she chose to express to me in the ways she knew best. It was such an abusive relationship to the extent she allowed others to hurt me in other horrific ways. My mother was..IS..mentally ill. In one way or another but she suppressed it in ways that she shouldn't have. Through my life I was able to remain calm and collective. I was underspoken and very passive. That was until my late teen years when I began dating a woman who stated she had Borderline personality disorder. Back then, I was not very educated on different disorders or mental health entirely. I was accepting that she had her illness. I had my own at that time, Social anxiety disorder and depression. However, she went without help. She used it as an excuse to harm me in every which way. To the point, I landed in the hospital with eleven stitches in my forearm. Meanwhile, my son was left at home with his Nana in the middle of the night while I snuck to the hospital. My brain snapped the moment I found out 4 year old son woke up and found my blood through the kitchen yet I was missing. After I finally escaped from her clutches, my brain slowly became different. It is as if I could feel myself breaking. Fast forwarding to my early 20s, I began dating a woman who I'd been close with for seven years at that time. She was the first that began to see sides of me that never existed. I became suicidal and angry in ways that were not who I wanted to be. I was punching holes in walls, screaming. I'd hit myself every way I possibly could. That is when I seemed help and found myself with a C-PTSD diagnosis.

Complex? That is what my entire up bringing had been. Complex? That seems to have followed me into the experience of mental health I have. You see? I have Complex- Post traumatic stress disorder. The mother who raised me had untouched trauma from her own childhood that she chose to express to me in the ways she knew best. It was such an abusive relationship to the extent she allowed others to hurt me in other horrific ways. My mother was..IS..mentally ill. In one way or another but she suppressed it in ways that she shouldn't have. Through my life I was able to remain calm and collective. I was underspoken and very passive. That was until my late teen years when I began dating a woman who stated she had Borderline personality disorder. Back then, I was not very educated on different disorders or mental health entirely. I was accepting that she had her illness. I had my own at that time, Social anxiety disorder and depression. However, she went without help. She used it as an excuse to harm me in every which way. To the point, I landed in the hospital with eleven stitches in my forearm. Meanwhile, my son was left at home with his Nana in the middle of the night while I snuck to the hospital. My brain snapped the moment I found out 4 year old son woke up and found my blood through the kitchen yet I was missing. After I finally escaped from her clutches, my brain slowly became different. It is as if I could feel myself breaking. Fast forwarding to my early 20s, I began dating a woman who I'd been close with for seven years at that time. She was the first that began to see sides of me that never existed. I became suicidal and angry in ways that were not who I wanted to be. I was punching holes in walls, screaming. I'd hit myself every way I possibly could. That is when I seemed help and found myself with a C-PTSD diagnosis. It took me a couple years to truly acknowledge the diagnosis for more than just the name. I was just glad that the medication stopped the anger outbursts for the general period of time. I have my moments but never as excessive and toxic. I am studying psychology in college. I desire to help those in every way but I also have an extreme curiosity on how our brains function.