No Addiction...Just Fact

 

Image from Yumu on
UnSplash.

Perhaps many of you went through the same misgivings about our male to female transitions as I did.

First, I felt it was a simple fetish with the new feminine clothes I was trying to wear. Then, when I outgrew the fetish idea along with mom’s clothes, I needed to try to determine exactly what was going on with me and my gender issues. With no help, and stuck in a very dark closet, I felt alone with no one to talk to. Thank goodness for the “Transvestia” publication by Virginia Prince coming into my life by pure accident which gave me hope for the future. There were others like me who wanted to look like women and have mixers with each other. If only I could make it to one, maybe some of my gender questions could be answered. While entertaining, the mixers I discovered which were close enough for me to attend, did not really answer many of my deep-seated questions. Such as why I was wearing women’s clothes as much as possible. Was I addicted to the clothes or was something else going on.

It did turn out that something much deeper with me was going on. It took me years to figure out the truth. Something much deeper was going on with me and my deeply held gender issues which should not have been problems at all, if I had faced up to them. I was not addicted to looking like a woman, the fact was, I wanted to find my own version of being a woman.

Then the real search for my identity began, as I finally had the courage to open my closet door and go out. In the beginning, ever so briefly until I built up my confidence as a novice transgender woman. Ironically, back then, the term transgender had not been widely used. There were only transvestites (or cross dressers) and transsexuals who wanted to have major surgeries called sex changes. Through this period of my life, I had the uneasy feeling I did not really fit into the transvestite or transsexual mold. I was different and still confused. All the diverse parties I attended were not helping me decide where I really fit.

Still, I kept trying to find my way, and I kept meeting more and more people on the gender spectrum at the parties I went to. From cross dresser admirers to impossibly feminine transsexuals, to the occasional lesbian, I was able to broaden my knowledge of the gender world as I knew it and further research where I belonged. By meeting all of them, I was able to determine where I wanted to be in the world as a transfeminine person and go from there. Plus, I did know, once and for all, the simple act of looking like a woman was not an addiction for me. It was a deep issue which sooner or later in my life I would have to face.

At that time, my progress was slow but steady as I made a far-ranging group of acquaintances in the gender community I was visiting. On one side, I was dealing with Ed, a part-time closeted cross dresser who had a crush on Michelle. A beautiful transsexual woman we both knew. I was stuck in the middle of that strange relationship. Trying my best to be understanding. All I knew was, the interactions I was having were not helping me with my issues which once again I was internalizing. The same thing I perfected in my male life which was so bad for me. I finally came to the point where I realized I needed to be my own person as a transfeminine person. I knew for sure; I had the dream of someday living fulltime as a woman. I just had no idea of how I was going to get there. I set out to discover answers to the many questions I had.

Such as, I knew I was not a cross dresser or transsexual. I was transgender looking for my path. Was I gay? What was my sexuality going to be under the gender affirming hormones I was seriously considering taking. It took me many years of searching before I finally received some long-awaited answers. And would I ever have the courage to face who I really was.

I was fortunate as I always mention that a small group of lesbians took me in and pushed me along my transition path. My sexuality did not have to change and that was one big question out of the way. My validation came from other women, not men and that was a fact.

Once I fully escaped my gender closet, I could look around with confidence and know my new transgender life was not built on addiction that I tried to solve, but on the facts, I refused to accept. I was never meant to be a man, and I was living a lie. The problem was I became good at the lie, and it was difficult to give up. Finally, I did learn through all my searching what the difference was between addiction and lie. Not a fact.

 

 

 

 

I Almost Waited too Long to Transition

 

Image from Lizgrin F 
on UnSplash.

I almost went too far when it came to not deciding to transition from male to female in my life.

During the previous half century of cross-dressing my life away in the mirror, I put off making my final decision so many times. One of the main problems was, I was sixty years old and was forced to consider my mortality, which I had always taken for granted. Plus, another issue I had was feeling just a little too comfortable with all the male privilege I had struggled to build up in my life. Often it seemed, destiny had stepped into my life to guide it a certain way because I was very self-destructive and selfish. So much so that my mom always said I had a guardian angel riding with me when I did stupid things behind the wheel. All along, of course, I was trying to hide the pain of hiding who I truly was.

On the other hand, I was basically an impulsive person who felt all rules were temporary and could be worked around. Such as my time in the Army when I was able to land a job with the American Forces Radio and Television Service (AFRTS), which was nearly impossible to do. In the meantime, I was facing the biggest struggle of my life as I needed to figure out what I was going to do about my gender issues. It was always the elephant in the corner of every room I was in.

What I decided to do was research as much as I could my dream goal of living a life as a transgender woman. When I did, my very real struggles began. Early on, nothing came easy on my gender path. I was being laughed at when I went out in public as a novice until I got it right. As I fortunately exited that portion of my life, I was able to see more clearly what I was up against, and it was daunting. I had very little idea of the layered lives ciswomen lead as compared to men. When I realized what I was up against, I needed to set my transition timetable back. And to make matters worse, my male self was becoming increasingly successful in his life. Building up a solid base of marriage, family, friends and job. How could I ever replace all of that and when could I do it.

The only recourse I had at the time was the worst one I could consider. Internalize my deepest gender thoughts and keep trying to attempt to do the best I could to survive a life caught between the two main primary genders. Three days as a trans woman and three days as a man was killing me and I tried to no avail to take the extra day off to relax. It turned out I could not because all I thought of on my supposed day off was what I was going to do the next time I went exploring the world as a transfeminine person. Which brings up a good point, during this time of my life, any thoughts I had that I was just a cross dresser were slipping away. Only to be replaced by the fact that I refused to accept. I was more a woman of my own making than I ever thought.

One way or another it was in my fifties when I began seriously researching the word transgender and what it meant to me. I was happy when I finally found the terminology which applied to me but again what was I going to do about it. I was not getting any younger. I still made the worst of all possible choices and continued my path of least resistance. At least that is how it appeared to the outside world which I was effectively hiding my efforts of femininizing from them. I had won my award as a strong male role model with a good marriage, family and job, and now I wanted to give it all back for a radical gender change into womanhood.

When my sixtieth birthday rolled around, I finally decided I needed to make a major change before it was too late. I went to a doctor and took the steps to be approved for gender affirming hormones or HRT and the real changes started. As good as I felt though, I could not shake the sorrow I had from moving permanently away from my male life. Even after my mental health improved.

Finally, I realized I had waited too long for the change and should have had the courage to do it long before I did. But at least I managed to make the major gender change I did before it was too late. And what about my elephant who was my constant companion? I set it free.

Damn its Hot in here

 

Image from Jon Tyson
on UnSplash. 

It is “patch day” for me. One of the days during the week when I change out my Estradiol hormonal patches. Every time I do it, I take the time to remember the changes I went through when I started gender affirming hormones or HRT.

Of course there were the much-publicized changes such as breast growth, changes in skin, and generous hair growth. Very quickly, I was able to put my wigs away and have my own hair styled professionally and begin to use much less makeup to present well. What I did not count on was the internal effects the HRT had on me. All of a sudden, I had emotions I had never had before, and I could cry.

One of the more humorous experiences I had was the night I experienced my first ever hot flash. I was out to be alone that night and was completely caught off guard when the heat hit me. In fact, I had just stopped thinking about how chilly it was in the venue and how I might have to put on my jacket to stay warm. Something I never had to do back in my male years. Suddenly my own thermostat seemed to be ruined, and I was paying the dues for all the times I thought the women around me were just making it up when they said they were cold. Then, I did not need my jacket at all when all hell broke loose, and I felt as if I was on fire. I quickly looked around to see if anyone else noticed my predicament, but no one did. I wondered at the time how they could not, but my heat must have been internal in nature. Later on, that evening, I tried to explain what had happened to me to my cisgender friends and they just laughed me off saying welcome to their world.

Now patch day once a year comes down to my annual mammogram. Since my maternal grandmother passed away years ago from breast cancer, my primary medical provider at the Veterans Administration makes sure every year I have a mammogram to be safe. If you have never experienced a mammogram, there is some brief discomfort but nothing like the alternative. So, I consider it a rite of passage when I have one.

It turned out for me there were many rites of passage to come as I went through a male to female transition. I had taken the appearance aspect of transitioning just about as far as I could and then faced a real decision in my life. Should I seek out a doctor to prescribe gender affirming hormones. I went to my local Dayton, Ohio LGBTQ resource guide and found a doctor and decided to make an appointment to see if I was healthy enough to begin HRT. This was way back in the days before the VA decided to include hormone therapy as a choice for gender dysphoric vets, so the doc I chose was the only logical choice. He asked me a few key questions about what I was prepared to lose of my male lifestyle and then approved me for a minimum dosage of medications to start my journey.

I started on pills and very soon they became a lifeline for a better world for me. Fairly quickly, after I showed no ill effects to the new hormones, I was prescribed larger dosages, and my body took to them naturally.  Then it got hot with my thought pattern of what I was going to do about all the changes which were happening to me. I was appearing very androgynous which was noticeable to others who knew me, so I needed to change my transition timetable because I was running out of time. In short, hormones slammed the door shut on my male life I had worked so hard to achieve. It was mine to give away, and I gladly did it.

Now, as I change my hormonal Estradiol patches out, I stop to remember the old male days and how I felt in my body and say a silent prayer that I have suffered no ill effects in my decade plus journey on HRT. I always take time to urge everyone considering femininizing their body through hormones, to seek guidance from a doctor before you do it. As I have seen the results of unregulated hormone therapy. The process is nothing to play with.

As I look back on the benefits of all the therapists and doctors I have seen over the years (and continue to see), being able to feel the heat of becoming a transgender woman was worth the effort.

 

 

 

I am Transgender but I am Me

 

JJ Hart, Mystic Connecticut.

I received several interesting comments on my post yesterday on restroom usage while traveling.

The most interesting one said something to the point that I did not mention I was a transgender woman. I guess because I have been writing a blog which focuses on my transgender journey for over a decade now, I take it for granted everyone knows I am a transfeminine person. Which is wrong. I should never take anything for granted when I write.

The truth of the matter is I have evolved as I have transitioned from the male gender to the female gender. All I know is, everything I ever dreamed of was being able to live as close as I could to being a woman. Over the years too, I have been attacked on what I meant about being a woman with one person even calling me just another old guy on hormones. I felt the comment was humorous and the person who said it was probably jealous, and I moved on.

Much of the problem many people have with the term woman is deciding who gets to have it. Long ago, I realized women were not born into the world, females were, and women were socialized beings which is exactly what I was. I just arrived at my womanhood from a different path than they did which meant I needed to take a different road to acceptance. To do it, I quickly learned not to out myself as transgender, or even try to “fool” the public into thinking I was a cisgender woman. When I became the person, I was always destined to become, I became successful in the world. It is the primary reason I don’t mention the fact I am a transgender woman in my writings.

Plus, I don’t know what the real difference I have anymore when I describe my dealings with the real world if I am trans or not. One point I did miss out on yesterday was mentioning the help and kindness I was offered due to my mobility issues. Thanks Denise. In today’s world, it is rare to be part of strangers offering kindness of any kind. And it is important to note the men on the tour did not step up in anyway to be social, just the women. Which has very much been the story of my transition from its beginning. Women were much more able and willing to let me into their world than men ever were. Again, I was on familiar ground, and I let it all go. With my acceptance from the ciswomen around my wife Liz and I who constantly referred to us as ladies, I did not need any reassurance from any of the men. Or should I say validation.

So yes, I am transgender but more importantly I have followed a very difficult path to be me on mostly my own terms. I went through more errors than trials than I can ever mention to arrive at where I am. I had a late start to be sure when I had no feedback on appearance and building myself as a woman. I made a lot of mistakes to be sure but somehow, I made it to where I could play in the girls’ sandbox.

On the other hand, I helped myself completely when I started gender affirming hormones. When I did, I was able to sync up my inner and exterior selves and have a better understanding of what the world really meant to me. I was so much more than just an old guy on hormones, I was an old guy who was going through some amazing changes as my skin softened, and my hair grew long enough to have it professionally styled. More importantly, the inner changes I went through were more profound as I discovered emotions and senses, I never knew I had. Such as becoming sensitive to temperature and smells as never before.  The whole process opened a new world for me and at the same time gave me more confidence in being me.

It was not until then did I realize how far I had come. To be sure, there is a thin line between me being transgender and just being me. If someone decides to dislike me because I crossed the gender border, it is on them, not me. All I know is, the whole amazing trip made me a better person.

Finally, thanks for the thought-provoking comment. I hope I have answered your question. I am a transgender woman but I am also just me.

 

 

Gender Blockers

 

JJ Hart, picture taken after mixer.

Gender blockers often came fast and furious at me as I lived my life.

First, I needed to figure out how to camouflage my big boned testosterone poisoned body so I could present well enough in the world to get by, once I arrived there. Which in itself was a big enough hurdle to face. Then I summoned the courage to go out of my closet and into the world, I learned the hard way how much further my trip would take me and how many people would try to block me.

At the beginning, it was never easy, especially around teen girls who always seemed to figure me out and have quite the giggle at my expense. Often, it took weeks for me to recover, go back to my cross-dressing drawing board and try the world out again. Fortunately, these were the days when I was attending the cross dresser-transgender mixers and parties in nearby Columbus, Ohio. At these events, often I was able to compare myself to others around me with the same gender issues and see how I was doing with my presentation.  Also, I left the diverse parties I was going to by discovering a deeper understanding of where I possibly was going in my life. I was learning I was so much more than just a man with a hobby of looking like a woman. I kept going back to the fact that increasingly I wanted to be a woman. It was my dream.

Often, my dream was shattered by a number of outsiders. While my wife was very supportive of me as a cross dresser, she completely drew the line at any suggestion I was transgender and had nothing to do with me starting HRT. Then she would team up against me with my male self who was beginning to feel threatened with losing his world. Mainly because I was beginning to have an idea of how my gender dream could become a reality. If my male self was becoming successful in conquering all the blocks and hurdles, he ran into, why could not my feminine side do it too.

At times, my male to female transition process was allow and tedious, and at other times fast and exciting. Frustration would set in when I would try to spend three days a week concentrating on my transfeminine side of life, only to have to revert back to my old male side the remainder of the week. Including my job which was male dominated. The whole back and forth gender life destroyed my fragile mental health and made my life hell, except when I was in my transgender phase. I had too many plates in the air which I was trying to keep spinning. Sort of like trying to keep several girlfriends happy at once.

I could finally take it no longer and needed to try to start removing my roadblocks one at a time. I began with the social roadblock. Could I actually begin to carve out a brand-new life as a transgender woman where no one knew of my past. To my surprise, I found I could. Probably because when I got past the point of thinking I was trying to fool anyone into thinking I was a cisgender woman, I just became me, and I was good enough not to scare anyone away.  One roadblock cleared. The next thing I needed to figure out was how I was going to support myself. Because transitioning on the job was out of the question, I needed to find a different answer. I took so long to do it, the problem solved itself when I got close to a point where I could take an early Social Security retirement and then sell the many collectibles my late wife and I had collected to survive.

With all the gender blockers to my dream out of the way, I needed to push my own feminine self-improvement program ahead. It meant seeking out an understanding doctor to prescribe me gender affirming hormones. When I did, I was able to see and sense a noticeable difference in my external and internal self. My skin softened and my hair grew so I could use less makeup and leave my wigs behind for good. All of which helped me to present better in public. Internally, I could not believe all the changes HRT was helping me with. I was more emotional as my world softened. For the first time in my life, I could cry tears of sadness and even joy.

From then on, I had paid all my dues and was ready to settle into the dream life I never thought I could obtain.

Finally, as a serious side note, it is 9-11, never forget.

Change was Coming

 

JJ Hart

As I grew into myself, I learned the truth. Change was coming if I liked it or not.

Change was one of the reasons I loved the fall season so much. As the weather cooled off and football came on, I could go through my feminine wardrobe and see what I could keep and what had to be discarded. Plus, I can’t forget Halloween which of course is the cross dressers’ national holiday in October.

Sadly, as the leaves began to change and fall from the trees, the whole time was bittersweet for me. The worst fall I could remember was when I was on a six-month delay to join the Army and I was working at a small radio station in Bowling Green, Ohio. If you are not familiar with that part of northwest Ohio, it is very flat to the point that any hills are manmade. One night, I was just driving around feeling sorry for myself as I looked ahead to Army basic training and I was so sad as the leaves blew in front of me. If I could have cried, I would have, but tears were nearly impossible for me in my male pre-HRT days. Similar to everything else in those days, I internalized my feelings and tried to move on as deep down I knew change had to happen.

During that time, I almost outed myself to my roommates in the apartment I was staying in until I left for basic. On one trip home, I brought back one of my favorite outfits along with a wig and makeup to Bowling Green. One day when I left, I assumed I had hidden my belongings well enough to not be discovered but I was wrong, and one night when I was preparing to surprise a male visitor to the apartment, after I went to work of shaving my legs and face, I checked for my clothes, and they were gone. I certainly thought, for a while change was coming then it was not. No one said a word to me and very soon, I was off to play soldier anyway so nothing else mattered.

Back in those Vietnam War days, basic training was an intense team building experience when a few drill sergeants needed to try to get a bunch of raw recruits ready for possible combat. During this time, the only way I could keep my girl self-alive was to bury her deeply in my subconscious mind, So, when we were on long forced marches around Ft. Knox, I made sure I thought about the well-being of my girl and the changes we would go through after my military service was finished.

Looking back at the three years I served; the time now seems like a blur and when I was discharged, I came really close to making a big change then by picking my future wife up at the airport cross dressed as my transfeminine self. I even went as far as hinting as such when I wrote her a letter. (Remember those?) Again, my male self-won out and I decided not to, and my big change had to go back to coming again. I did not have the courage yet to face my gender truth and took the easy way out and went back to accepting all the male privileges I had earned.

It was not until I became a parent and had reached my thirties did change to me become a real priority. I will always remember my thirtieth birthday being my hardest because I still hadn’t decided what I was going to do with my life. Sure, I had employment and financial issues to be aware of but again the underlying big elephant in the room was what changes would have to happen with my gender. I knew it was never going to be easy to present well as a woman, and I needed to work extra hard to earn whatever passing grades I could achieve in the public’s eye. Once I made the mental changes to proceed, much of my work became cosmetic in nature.

I was able to move the elephant aside and set about learning what it would take me to really live life as a transgender woman and not just be the “Pretty, pretty princess” my second wife called me. As change set in, I learned very few trans women or women at all live the life of a princess and I had a lot of work to do to put my male life behind me.

The last major change I put myself through was the hormonal one when I started gender affirming hormones. The HRT allowed me to sync up my external and internal selves and live a more productive life as a transfeminine person.

Off or On the Transgender Highway

 

Image from David Valentine
on UnSplash. 

When I seriously pursued my male to female life as a transgender woman, along the way I was fooled into thinking I was on a smooth fast interstate highway.

What happened was I was stuck on slow-moving two-lane gender roads and going nowhere for years. Plus, I needed to keep an eye out for potholes bumps and sharp curves. Too many times, I led myself down dead-end streets when I transitioned. The entire process just slowed me down and I lost decades in the process. Then I discovered one of the main problems I had was my old male self was exercising too much influence on my life. My main example I always use were the ill-advised fashion choices I was making when I tried teen girl outfits in my thirty-year-old testosterone poisoned body. I was guilty of not looking around and noticing what other women my age were wearing or what I could wear to disguise the defects I inherited with my body. Even though I was always going to be a big woman, there were plenty of other women my size to blend in with in public. While I am not a huge proponent of age women’s fashion, I am a proponent of looking good and not shocking the world.

One way or another, as I was able to put most of the fashion mistakes behind me, I was able to speed up a little and enjoy the new small gender towns and cities I always wanted to visit as a woman when I was a man. There were to be no more miserable vacations when all I thought about was when I could cross-dress again in front of the mirror. I was far beyond that point. I had developed the confidence I needed as a transfeminine person to take the next two-lane highway ahead and see where the journey took me. More than anything else, the mini trips taught me I could not go to sleep on my gender journey as I was risking my life as I knew it at the time.

In many ways, I was used to the pressure of discovery all along since it had started when I was so young. I just ended up accepting the pressure as a way of life for me if I was ever going to achieve my dream of living as a transgender woman. It all started with the threat of a psychiatrist visit when I was quite young, all the way to losing my family and job if I was discovered later in life.

Perhaps the biggest mistake I made on my road was trying to internalize the entire process and going through the infamous ill-advised purges of everything feminine I owned. It turned out to be one of the dead-end roads I was facing when I found I could not purge my deepest feelings of wanting to be a woman. In no time at all, I was back on the road and ready to try to get on the gender interstate. Many times, I was guilty of taking the wrong exit and having to go back to start all over again when I made the wrong choice of a venue and tried out a red neck, rightwing venue when I should not have. One time, I even had the cops called on me when I visited one venue, I was not familiar with.

After being told to leave, I quietly did and regained my composure up the street at a place where I knew I would be accepted and got back on the road. Once my transgender life began to speed up, I was able to stay on the interstate gender highway thanks to a lot of help from my cisgender friends who taught me more than they ever knew about discovering myself as a trans woman. More than anything else, they propelled me forward towards my dreams. They validated me to a point where I did not have to hide myself anymore on a bunch of dark deserted two-lane roads and stay on the well-lit interstates. I mention them a lot because without them, I could still be hiding my true transgender self away in my dark closet.

It took me so long to transition, I wore out a couple of vehicles along the way, but I finally did it. Regardless of the naysayers who said I was not trans enough to make it, or I passed as a woman out of sheer willpower. I accepted my life for what is was finally at the age of sixty and did what I should have done years earlier. Stood up for myself and started gender affirming hormones (HRT) which was like getting a new sports car to drive on the gender interstate. Again, I was able to leave a lot of negative people behind and live the dream I always wanted to live, as a transgender woman.

 

 

 

Why Would I do this to Myself?

 

JJ Hart, Club Diversity
Columbus, Ohio.

Even though it has been years since I have been asked the question which asks why I am transgender, I withheld all my sarcastic comments such as I found my gender dysphoria in the bottom of a cereal box and thought of a concise truthful answer.

The truth is I had always known but was afraid to accept it. In the meantime, I set out on a slow, often torturous process to reach my impossible dream. To all the naysayers I interacted with, I just wanted to say, if I was not serious about switching male to female lives, why would I do this to myself. I knew early on I brought a lot of the problems with the public I faced on myself because of my novice attempts at presenting myself to blend into society with other women. I was coming off like a clown in drag, rather than someone who was seriously trying to jump the gender border from male to female. I was not playing around.

As my old male ego suffered, my feminine ego persisted and finally I did better in the world. I think too, the world took me seriously for the first time and did not have to ask the “why” question. I discovered too, that most of the world was just doing their thing and could care less about me if I could just blend. As I did blend in and began to carve out a new life for myself, the “why” of what I was doing became more personal and pressure packed. I was risking a successful male life I had worked hard to achieve, in order to live a new life which was so scary and at the same time felt so natural. I was having fewer people ask me why I was doing this transgender trip to myself.

Which brings up the question why any of us would transition ourselves if we were not desperate to do it. As an example, my own personal example was all the self-destructive behavior I put myself through including suicide and alcohol abuse. I was a living example of why I would do all of this to myself to be a transfeminine person. I was serious about what I was doing and needed to continue up the gender path I was on.

What helped me too was when I began to see the same people more than once. Since I was easy to remember, strangers began to put a name to my face, and I began to become a regular in several of the straight venues I went to. I just followed my tried-and-true idea of if I was friendly, did not cause any trouble and tipped well, I would be welcomed repeatedly.

The farther I went along my gender path, I began to wonder what sort of a transphobic gender bigot or female TERF would even question why a transgender person does what they do. Such as making all the sacrifices we must make to live the life we desire such as risk losing family, spouses and employment. Slicing off a major part of our life and starting over is intimidating enough without the naysayers questioning it.

On the other hand, there were things I wanted to do to help my feminine transition along such as losing nearly fifty pounds and beginning to take better care of my skin. Suddenly, I had access to more fashionable clothes which fit better, and my makeup was easier to apply. All because I took the time to take care of my transfeminine self. When I did so, even the haters I still encountered needed to get over it because I was more secure in myself. Even though I was increasingly successful in the world as a transgender woman, humans are like sharks, and every now and then I needed to fend off any unwelcome attention I might have attracted.

Possibly, the most important answer to the “why” question came when I decided to seek a doctor’s help and begin gender affirming hormones. Naturally, the decision on HRT was a major one and not a decision to be taken lightly. At the time I started hormones, I was leading a healthy male life which would have to change. I knew all along, I had come too far on my gender path to turn back now and quickly learned I had made the right decision to start HRT. My life blossomed as never before, and I never missed my old male body and emotions again.

By this time, I had married Liz and settled into a transgender dream world I never thought I could achieve. I guess I was to the point of if I could dream it and could do it. Which is a topic for another blog post altogether.  Plus, I had answered the question once and for all of why I wanted to do this to myself. It was fulfilling my own personal destiny.

 

Come Out Swinging

 

Image from Chase Li
on UnSplash.

Often, I write about running home to dress in my skirts and put makeup on to hide the failures I was feeling as a male.

My plan worked well until I discovered I was advancing so far and so quickly as a novice cross dresser or young transgender girl, I was unknowingly destroying my hiding place. Someone turned the light on in my closet and suddenly I had nowhere to go. I needed to come up with a plan to come out swinging or I was doomed. In addition, I still had to be very careful not to be caught and end up in a psychiatrist’s office declaring me mentally ill. Then I would really have nowhere to hide.

The better I became at the art of makeup and dressing myself, the more I needed to consider what I was doing and wondering if I should come out swinging at all. The problem continued to be, I was building more male privileges in the life I was living. My life was like shadow boxing myself as I sought out answers. Like most of you, I was risking a lot as I came closer to pushing all my life’s chips to the center of table and betting it all on the fact I was a transgender woman all along.

Then I went into my highly recommended experimentation years of my life. In order to have any sort of an idea if I wanted to live as a transgender woman, I needed to walk a mile in my new high heeled shoes. Those were the scary yet exciting nights when I escaped the gay venues I was going to and began to attempt to establish myself as a regular in lesbian and other straight venues I was used to going to as a man. When I did, I discovered I needed to make another transition from serious cross dresser to transgender woman exploring the world. To my amazement I was successful when I went to venues such as TGI Fridays and socialized with other professional women. Maybe I did not have to swing so hard after all to escape the dark confines of my gender closet.

To be sure, I still had setbacks when I came out into such a different world, but I had enough gender euphoria to realize I could live out my dream if I worked hard enough at it. At first, I suffered from the “what I thought a feminine life would be” syndrome. I was trying to put all those years of closely watching how women lived into actual practice without paying my dues in the world. While I resented the fact, no one would let me see behind the cisgender woman gender curtain, I was becoming a victim which did me no good in the short or long term. So what if I did not understand what I was doing wrong, I just had to figure it out and do better.

One of my major problems was solved when I finally came to the conclusion I was never going to be accepted as a cisgender woman, but I could find my own version of womanhood on my own path. That is when I started to wear only one wig, settled on one name and began to build a new serious life as a transfeminine person in the world. As I settled into a new life, I found that many people (especially women) appreciated my honesty in a world of fake people. I was surprised at all the female attention I received and was relieved I did not have to attempt to change my sexuality.

The more I changed, it seemed the more I stayed the same as my long hidden feminine soul took control finally. I was dealing with life on a one-to-one basis for a change without having to swing away all the time just to survive. As HRT hormones entered my life, it was just another example to me of what took me so long. My body took to the gender affirming hormones flawlessly and I was off to yet another transfeminine adventure. My age and hormonal status led me down a new road of dealing with confrontations, no more could I try to macho my way through trouble, I needed to take the feminine path and try not to get into a situation I could not get out of before it happened. Or no more swinging away for me. I needed to use my brain for a change.

As I have pointed out in previous posts, I was never a good athlete and could never hit a curveball when I tried to play baseball. I finally took it all to heart and quit trying to hit a curveball altogether and settled into watching the boys play baseball (and girls too) when I did not have to play. I was tired of banging my head against a hard gender wall and ended up where I always should have been as a transgender woman. I just wish I had not been so stubborn when I was doing it and had shed my male self-long before I did.

 

In Over my Head

Image from Alexander Mass
on UnSplash

In the beginning, it was all so simple. Pick something, I could squeeze into from my mom’s closet, try my best to wear her makeup and go from there. Very quickly though I found I was getting in over my head as I began to sink into my own personal gender quicksand.

My first problem was hiding my small but growing collection of feminine fashion. In addition to my parents, I had a slightly younger brother I needed to deal with. Somehow, I managed to keep the darkest and potentially most destructive secret I had away from him, I wanted to be a girl in the worst way. I had no way of knowing then how many times I would be in over my head as I chased my dream. Primarily because I had no way of knowing looking like a woman was just the first step of a lifetime of gender learning. As I like to say, my gender notebook was blank when I received my copy, and I needed to catch up the best I could.

I began by studying the women around me who were my age the best I could. It was all I could do at that time to keep myself from setting myself up for failure when I finally was able to escape my dark, lonely gender closet and explore the world for the first time. When I did, I was naïve and confident I would have no problems. After I was sent home crying after being laughed at, rudely I knew I was in over my head with a lot of work to do. For some reason, for the first time in my life I knew I could not give up and I refused to quit. I kept going back to the drawing board until my makeup art improved and I began to learn the benefits of dressing my self properly as a woman of my age and build. Suddenly, I began to pull myself out of my quicksand and began to move forward again towards my dream of living as a transgender woman.

Ironically, as I moved forward, I ran into many other obstacles in my way. Was I pushing myself into a world which was ready for me or not was one of the main questions I had. The more involved I became in the world as a trans woman, the more I needed to be accepted into women only spaces. The only way I would ever know was if I could conquer my fears and try. As I pressed on, somedays I was more successful than others, but overall, I found I was accepted by other women. The times I found myself in over my head as a novice transfeminine person were primarily when I was approached improperly by men. There were times I needed to run home and rework my gender notebook after close ugly calls with men. I learned quickly, those close calls did not validate my worth as a woman. They did provide me with an insight of what women go through in their lives and I learned fast.

As I was adjusting to the new life I was destined to live, It seemed as if the lessons I was receiving kept coming faster and faster. I learned from my lesbian friends how to validate myself as a woman and from men, what not to do. At no point in time was any of my life easy at this point, but it was scary and exciting at the same time. My dream became so close I could reach out and touch it. If I kept out of the quicksand and kept my head above water, I could make it. The hardest part was still yet to come as I was coming increasingly closer by the day to separating from the male life I resented for so long.

The final decision to change was brought on by my choice to seek out gender affirming hormones or HRT. As I urge everyone to do, I sought out medical approval before I went down the radical path I was on. I was approved, put on an initial minimal dosage and before I knew it, changes were happening which made me a highly androgynous person. One look in the mirror told me that I had made the right decision and I wanted to move past the minimal dosage of HRT I was on.

I can’t say I haven’t found my way in over my head in recent times because of the type of person I am. Did being transgender aid in it? Who knows. We all have our choices to make, and they are all tempered by the people around us. Some are fortunate and have discovered feminine gatekeepers such as spouses were there all along. While others are destined to go it alone. Whatever the case, try to not get in over your head and do the best you can.                                 

  

The Blues

 

I have not been ashamed over the years to document my struggles with depression, which was finally diagnosed as being Bi-Polar by a gender therapist I was going to years ago. Fortunately, the therapist was the first of several who did not try to connect the dots between my mental health issues and my depression. Saying one caused the other.

What was happening was, when I got the blues, I was down for days, not wanting to even get out of bed. Having said that, I was able to break the depression on occasion by cross dressing and going out into the world as a novice transgender woman. Breaking the hold of the blues was often very brief when I needed to return to the very mundane male world I was stuck in.

In addition, I was doing very little to help myself. I drank heavily, not considering how much of a depressant alcohol was and my favorite music to listen to was the blues. Regardless of my gender issues. As you can tell, outside of the Bi-Polar medications I was taking, I was doing very little to help myself. With or without the help I received, I managed to make it and eventually thrive rather than just survive. Regardless of my second wife calling me the “pretty, pretty princess”, I still took a lot of pride in my feminine presentation. The better I looked, the fewer blues I needed to conquer in my life because for once, I was doing something positive for myself.

When I needed the Veteran’s Administration’s health care in the worst way, they really came through for me. I was going through hard times when my restaurant closed financially and could not afford my medications when one of my employees suggested turning to the VA for help. It was about this time too when the VA approved gender affirming hormones for veterans so I could help myself on two fronts by making an appointment. It turned out that what I needed was an appointment with a therapist for both of my issues. My depression and my gender issues. By the pure luck of the draw, I was assigned to a therapist who had knowledge of my depression and my gender dysphoria. I was going into my first visit thinking I would have a difficult time explaining how my Bi-Polar depression had nothing to do with my gender outlook.

I never had to connect those imaginary dots with my new therapist. She had a good understanding of the needs of the LGBTQ community and what it meant to me. Once again, all the paranoia I had built up was wasted and my depression meds as well as my HRT meds were approved. It was the help I needed when I needed it at the lowest part of my life.

Regardless of all the good news I discovered, I still had to translate all of it into my real life which was changing dramatically. I was going out more and more testing out my interactions with the public. Building a new life was as difficult as I had imagined and the struggles I went through sent me back into the blues when I thought I would never make it as a transgender woman. To be completely feminized by no one else but me turned out to be a daunting task because I was starting from near to point zero. Very quickly, I quit being a victim and turned the tables on my male self who was fighting for survival, but not before I tried various self-destructive things such as trying to kill myself. The blues were literally trying to kill me.

In my limited understanding of both issues, I fought for my entire life, both depression and gender dysphoria could be caused by chemical imbalances in my brain. So, I had no real chance to battle them. I was born to a high-risk birth rate mother in the days when the medication DES was routinely prescribed. DES supposedly flooded the uterus with estrogen hormones which could have affected my future gender issues. Of course, now I will never know if my lifetime of struggle to fit in with males was doomed to begin with and now depression is widely believed to be caused by a chemical imbalance in my brain which I think I inherited it from my mom. One way or another, I feel fortunate to live in an era when medications are available to treat my depression.

In many ways too, the blues are an outlet I miss in my interactions with today’s world. As the mid term elections rapidly approach, I am preparing myself for the barrage of anti-transgender propaganda from the Republican party here in Ohio. Knowing what to expect won’t make it easier for me to survive. As always, I will just have to. With or without the blues because every little thing is going to be alright.

 

 

The Only Constant is Change

 

Image from Brad Starkey
on UnSplash

In life it seems, the only constant is change. Especially for transgender women and transgender men. As with most of you, my life of change started quite early when I started exploring my mom’s foundation drawer. To make matters worse, I then started raiding her makeup collection.

As I viewed myself in the hallway full length mirror, little did I know what a long trip I would embark on to battle my gender dysphoria. My male self was strong and put up quite the battle when all along my feminine self was plotting how she could win the war. All he could do was resort to typical male actions and reactions such as internalization of the gender problems all the way to completely running from them.

Change became reality when I started running from my problems by changing jobs and moving my family several times. My first move took my wife and I from our native southwestern Ohio home to the radically different environment of the New York City metro area. I was naïve and thought moving to a more liberal area of the country would provide me the opportunity to pursue my growing serious cross dressing “hobby.” Nothing of the sort really happened except a couple of times. The first of which was when I made the journey out to Long Island to attend a cross dresser – transgender mixer. I was so successful that I was carded at the door to prove I actually was a man.

The other example was a Halloween party I was invited to by a fellow manager of the restaurant I managed. Somehow that night I managed to escape the criticism of my second wife who wasn’t going with me anyhow and dress the way I wanted to. I chose my favorite wig, short dress and heels and slipped out of the house. Away from the unapproving prying eyes of our landlord. The evening turned into my dream scenario when I found I was going with several other tall and sexually dressed women as I was. The ultimate camouflage was I fit right in. My successes fueled my ego and pushed along my changes. For the first time in my life, I began to believe I could achieve my ultimate dream of living as a transgender woman. If I was fooling the world on these evenings, why couldn’t I do it more.

In the short term, my male ego hurt my ability to change. Being briefly accepted as a woman only pushed me on for more change. Leading to huge fights between my main feminine gatekeeper (my second wife) and myself. In typical male fashion, he oversimplified the gender problems with the same old results. It was time to run again and move from NYC back to a different part of Ohio. This time, to a very rural area along the Ohio River. Surprisingly, change came easily to me in this rural area of Ohio. I was able to cross dress and do the grocery shopping as well as other trips.

Still, change haunted me and I felt the need to find a job in Columbus, Ohio where I had been successful in the past in the crossdresser-transgender community. I felt if I could go back there, I could again fit right back in.

This move or change ultimately led me back to my hometown which was close to Columbus. I had come full circle with my changes which led me to finally face my gender reality. I was and had always been a woman at heart and had made my own way down difficult paths to find her. Plus, I was so tired of running all the time, so I did not have to accept the only constant being change. The only constant was my whole life as a male was a lie, and I had to do something about it.

I ended up taking advantage of all that I learned the years I was a novice transgender woman and using the lessons to make my transition more flawless. For once, I was changing in place as I threw my mirror out the window. I started using the public as a mirror to see how well I was presenting as a transfeminine person and went on to live my life.

For me, the final straw which ended my ill-fated male life was when I changed my life for good and started HRT or gender affirming hormones. I could not believe all the changes I went through and how good they felt. I know all people go thru changes in their lives but not to the extent most transgender persons do. It is certainly a difficult journey and not recommended that you take the path I took.

Not the Man I Used to Be

 

Image from Ava Sol
on UnSplash.

Almost daily, I feel as though I am not the man I used to be, and it feels great!

In many ways, I was a man’s man as I went through life desperately attempting to survive in a male world. To do it, often I needed to bluster my way through life confronting other men I met. Although nearly all my confrontations fell way short of being physical, I still was able to win more than I lost. As I said, I hated the life I was living because deep down it did not feel right.

While being a man’s man took the life right out of me, it seemed being a transgender woman put it back. As I settled into my own woman’s arms, I instantly felt better, and I did not care if I was no longer the man I used to be. However, what was easy in the beginning became increasingly difficult as I went along up my gender path. It seemed like each wall I scaled on my path was a little higher as I stopped to look around to see if I still wanted to keep going.

By now you know I never stopped moving away from the man I used to be, and I had many lessons to learn. Particularly around personal security which I always took for granted as a man. I was always over average size, and people usually left me alone. It got to be so bad I couldn’t even scalp tickets to a football game I wanted to attend with my wife. The illegal scalpers thought I was a cop and would not sell to me. I had to let my wife approach them as the tickets were not illegal but where they were selling them were back in those days.

Other aspects of life I hated about being a man was always having to make the first move. All the way from being the one asking the woman out, all the way to where we were going for dinner. Then being told somehow my choice was wrong. Through it all, I could not wait until I was the one who did not make all the decisions. It was all I did at work, and I felt I shouldn’t have to at home which did not work well with my wife. On the other hand, I did learn always being the one who asked someone out was not the popular way to go with everyone. Just waiting around to have someone ask you was just as bad for the woman.

Finally, as I began to put all of that behind me and was beginning to put together a new life as a transgender woman, my life as a man began to fade in my rearview mirror of life. Not being the man, I used to be a welcome change and was where I was headed anyhow. I was trying to find specific small things I used to do as a man and change them over to feminine ones. Large examples included how I walked all the way down my gender path to learn how to better use the nonverbal communication women routinely use between each other. Very quickly I learned how one glance from an employee at a regular venue I went to meant I was in possible trouble if I stayed. In an instant, my gender world changed as I knew I could not stay and fight my way out or try to neutralize the situation with a male scowl. So, I picked up my purse, paid for my tab and left. Along with my male ego. 

Then there was the ultimate challenge to any remaining masculinity I had left. It came when I was approved for and started gender affirming hormones. Very rapidly, HRT caused what was left of my male strength to fade away. I used to put trucks away in my busy restaurants all the time and move very heavy beer kegs around with no help. Not a chance of that ever happening again since I was on the hormonal medications. As I learned I was not the man I used to be, my body started to change, and androgyny began to set in. All before I made the fateful decision to give away all my male clothes and live fulltime as a transgender woman.

For me, deciding to never go back to the man I used to be was a simple decision I should have made years before. Out of all the decisions I had to make as a man, I was unable to make the biggest one and set my life in the right decision…away from the man I never was.

Deadly Serious

 

Image from Nicholas COMTE
on UnSplash

Looking back at my long (50 year) gender journey, I wonder now how I became so deadly serious as I considered myself more than a casual cross dresser.

I came a long way from just experimenting with my mom’s clothing to where I am today. As I live fulltime as a transgender woman. Many days, if I have the time to even think about it, I wonder how I went about connecting my dots during my travel from the male to female gender. But, before I go any farther, I should mention two things. First of all, I have nothing against cross dressers, as I spent too many years being one to attempt to put myself up on any sort of gender pedestal. Secondly, I don’t consider myself a female in the strictest sense of the word. That is why you might notice I use the transgender or transfeminine word more frequently. In addition, I strongly feel the woman word (and man) are both socialized terms as many females or males never make it to being true women or men. Now, since I got all of that out of the way, what does that have to do with being deadly serious about anything. Not much, but I always like to clear the air.

In my life, I can only remember being deadly serious about two things, the first was following an often-vague path to my own version of womanhood and the other was Army basic training. In the Army, your secondary MOS or job classification is infantry which means I received the same training as everyone else who were going to Vietnam for a very uncertain future. So, the bottom line was, I took my military training deadly seriously. Just in case I needed it later. Fortunately, I never did. Naturally, pursuing my feminine path was destined to be just the opposite.

It seemed, the more I tried to do as a novice cross dresser or transgender woman, the more I wanted to do. I forced myself away from the easy gender experiences I was trying, into a true interaction with the world and my challenges became much more serious but not quite to the deadly stage. I think the reason was, I was still experimenting with people as strangers. Not like somebody I would see more than once. I was naïve and thought people would not remember me for what I was, a man in drag or a dress. When other people began to see me repeatedly it was good for both of us because I needed to up my presentation game and quit changing wigs every time I went out. To succeed in the new world I was creating, people needed to see I was deadly serious about being accepted in the new mainstream venues I was going to when I gave up on going to the gay venues I tried.

More importantly, I lived through all the bumps and bruises I suffered as I silently fought back against the gender bigots I faced. Some of which were not so silent as I attempted to enter the so-called women only spaces such as restrooms. One night, I was called a pervert by an irate cisgender woman before I backed her down. She was the one I had to threaten with LGBTQ sanctions on her business if she did not leave me alone. Which she did.

The more comfortable I became in my transgender world, the more deadly serious I became about doing more. Soon I was to the point where I was like a runaway train heading down a one-way track as my manhood was coming to an end. One of the final acts of severing what was left of him came when I was approved for and started gender affirming hormones or HRT. My body took to the new hormones flawlessly to the point when I wondered why I hadn’t been on them all along.

The reason was relatively simple, as the changes from the HRT would preclude me from going back to the male life I had worked so hard to establish. Would I be deadly serious enough to risk all I had built up such as a long-term marriage, a family and friends plus a very good job which I could have never transitioned on.

Finally, after years of introspection, I made the decision to go as far as I could without surgery into a transgender life. With all I had to lose at the age of sixty, I decided “playtime” was over, and it was time to be deadly serious again and never look back as I had reached my dream of living in a transfeminine world.