Climbing the Transgender Mountain

 

Photo from the 
Jessie Hart Collection

As time has gone by, I have began to think of my transgender journey as being some sort of a mountain climb.

Problems occurred along the way as I became greedy. I found the more I accomplished along my path, the more I wanted.  Many times I was guilty of trying to push the envelope too far and suffered negative responses from the public when I did. Those were the days of not knowing who I was cross dressing for and not having the skill to attempt to blend in with my feminine appearance. I was trying to dress sexy for the men in the world and failing miserably.  Climbing the mountain in those days was very painful and slow. However, destiny was playing a part in my climb because mixed in with the failures were just enough successes to encourage me to keep moving towards my impossible dream of living a life fulltime as a trans woman. I equate it to reaching a certain summit then looking around and deciding you can never go back.

Those were the days when I finally decided I was so much more than a casual cross dresser and when I was successful in my public presentation as a woman, I felt so natural. The best example I can remember is the night I went out on my own to get a drink at an upscale pub/tavern as a woman...not as someone pretending to be one. A huge difference to me at the time. The whole evening worked out so well for me, somehow I just knew I could never go back to my male lifestyle as I knew it at the time. The entire process was terrifying and exciting at the same time. After all the years of trying, I had reached a lower peak of my climb. A place where I could see clearly where I had come from and could see vaguely where I might have the chance to go. If I continued to climb upward.

Even though I am extremely fearful of heights I did continue my upward climb. Fighting me along the way was my increasing fear of totally giving up the male life I so desperately fought to keep over the years. I was just getting to the "Sir" stage of my life when privileges came from just surviving as long as I did as a white male. Even so, my feminine soul was calling me to move ever upward to my dream. 

As I often mention, my second wife of twenty five years was dead set against living with another woman. Especially if the other woman was me. When she unexpectedly passed away at the age of fifty, the  door was open for me to climb another peak in my gender transition and begin hormone replacement therapy or HRT. At that point, I couldn't or wouldn't turn back as miraculous changes began to go through my male body. In no time at all, I made the jump from macho male to androgynous person to looking feminine with softer skin, breasts and hair. I can equate the entire process to climbing my own personal Mt. Everest. 

Once I did scale my tallest gender mountain, I found the view to be breathtaking and at that point I was happy I made the climb. More importantly, I never wanted to go back.