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.

I Never Missed a Beat

 

JJ Hart

Once I started down or up my long gender path, I never missed a beat, even though on occasion, the beats were far apart.

The beat started when the first time I experienced the thrill of experimenting with my mom’s clothes, I knew I was hooked as much as the garters I learned to use way back then to hold up mom’s hosiery. From then on, I went in as many spurts as I could to try to achieve my ultimate dream of being a girl, rather than just looking like one. The problem was I was restricted to hiding my gender ambitions from a totally unforgiving world. Primarily, an ultra-curious slightly younger brother who seemingly was always around. Locking myself away in the bathroom away from him only had the chance of working so many times as the instances I had of being totally alone were rare.

Even so, I managed to perfect my makeup routines in the rare moments I had. Perhaps the days of watching mom put “her face on” did me good. At least I had a working knowledge of how makeup should work, even though I struggled to improve my efforts and not look like a clown in drag. I wanted desperately to look like the other girls around me I saw at school. So much so, I daydreamed my life away wanting to be them. Luckily, at the time, I did not know how many beats I would have to make to reach my feminine dreams.

It turned out the biggest obstacle to my transgender dreams turned out to be the looming possibility of military service in the Vietnam War. It lasted so long in my youth, I literally started to worry about it when I was fourteen. At the least, my worst-case scenario of being drafted and sent off to war would wreck any ideas of fast forwarding my gender goals for years. Three, to be exact when the worst case happened, and I did get drafted. Then I took the option of serving an extra year to try to work in an Army vocation of my choice. As destiny would have it, everything turned out the best it could. Even to the point of seeing the world and coming out to very close friends that I was a transvestite. Which, in the long term, set up another problem.

The problem turned out to be that I was not being honest with myself or anyone else. I missed a beat in the worst possible way. I was not so much a transvestite or cross dresser, I was something much deeper than just having an innocent desire to wear women’s clothes. Deep down inside of me, a little voice was beginning to be heard that I wanted to again be a woman in my own right. The clothes I resorted to calming my desires meant little to nothing to me in the long term of my life. Worse yet, I missed many crucial beats of my life, as I ignored the little voice which was threatening to grow into a loud roar.

All of it set me up to escape my gender closet and begin to seriously explore the world as a transfeminine person. I needed to see if I could make it at all. When I did, the beat of my life began to totally pick up and I discovered I could make it as a transgender woman…if I wanted it bad enough. Plus, I needed to figure out what was I prepared to lose if I made the major step and transitioned into my version of womanhood. A long-term marriage, family, friends, and job potentially could all be gone if I followed the beats of my heart.

In what now seems like a blur, I was able to put less than desirable transition decisions behind me and then struck gold. Which was my experience with on-line relationships. After being stood up on countless (dates) my wife Liz of over a decade reached out to me saying I had sad eyes, and we have been together since. Never missing a beat.

Needless to say, that inner voice I mentioned deserves praise also. When given a chance, she led the way into a new exciting world of ciswomen I had only dreamed about. Even though I had gone down such a long gender path to arrive where I am today, it still does my soul good when a neighbor calls Liz and I “ladies” on our walks when we meet up. After all, I am just making up for lost time and missing many beats.