Gender Misfits

Image from Bruno Guerrero 
on UnSplash

I know I am speaking to the choir here when I point out how alone we all felt concerning our gender issues early in life.

Those of us of a certain age vividly remember the days before the internet brought the world closer and social media made it easier to contact like minded transgender individuals. Or I should say cross dressers and/or transvestites were included also. Suddenly, a whole new world was available to us.

In the meantime, there was so much we needed to figure out on our own. Without any sort of a peer group to help us with our clothes and makeup, often the process of adjusting to the world took longer. So, the feeling of being a misfit became very ingrained. I know for the longest time, I deeply felt all of my gender problems were of my own doing. How else could I explain the differences I felt with everyone else? Long story short, I couldn't and often my feelings left me deeply depressed.  How could I ever move through my life.

Somehow I made it through this very unsure time of my life. The problem was I was usually unable to seek out any long term friendships. Outside of a very few exceptions, I had very few friends in the new, larger high school I transferred to from the small rural school I previously went to. Plus, as far as girl friends were concerned, it took me until the end of my junior year to have my first date with a girl at all and that one was basically set up by people I barely knew. I was being set up for a friend of theirs's for the prom that year. Once again, I felt as if I was a misfit and should be the one wearing the elegant gown and be the one receiving the flowers. Even though I was scared to death, I made it through the evening and even ended up having a fairly good time.

Even with the first big date with a girl out of the way, I still felt as if I was still a misfit. I stayed in my very small group of friends who were mainly into sports and cars which enabled me to keep the bullies away. At least if I was a misfit, I was a protected one. 

Amazingly, when I went away to college, my desire to be a girl hit an all time low...for awhile. Of course, just when I was feeling like I was able to shake my misfit status, the old feelings came back. Before I knew it, once again I was cross dressing as much as I could and I was still feeling as my old misfit self. 

It wasn't until much later in life when I was able to fully accept myself as a transgender woman. When I did, the whole time I thought I was a misfit was wrong. I also discovered transvestite mixers and support groups where I met others with similar gender issues. The whole process enabled me to discover where I belonged on the gender spectrum. Meeting others was all it took to take away all doubts of me being the one who was a misfit. 

I just wish it didn't take me so long to come to the realization society was made up of misfits and not me.

Singing a Different Tune

During the search for my authentic gender over the years, I relied on music to lift me from my bouts of Bi-Polar based depression. 

Once I reached college age, I was drawn to music as a way of trying to support myself as a radio disc jockey. In fact, I was able to work my way partially through college working at a local small radio station. I made a small amount of money while at the same time furthered my love of music. Along the way I was fortunate in that even though I was a rock and roller at heart, I was also able to work in various other music formats such as free form (or progressive rock) as well as country music. Bottom line was I grew accustomed to appreciating music as a whole and just not a specific medium.  I can't tell you how many times I tried to mimic "Reba McIntire" the country singer. 

Along the way, early in my career I happened along certain songs such as Lola by the Kink's in 1970. It was interesting when I had to field call in's asking was the song really about a woman who was a man. I also discovered certain music which could soothe my blues temporarily. Which led me to an appreciation of the Jazz/Blues form of entertainment. So much so, with the help of a large music library which went back to the post WWII days, I was able to produce and program my own Blues Show on the American Forces Network station in Stuttgart, Germany. It was during this period of my life I was able to over enjoy the effects of powerful German Beer. Even though the extra alcohol was not good for my overall depression, it turned out to be a primary source of socialization for myself and friends I made along the way. This extreme alcoholic socialization finally led me to confessing my Halloween feminine "costume" was much more than an innocent past time as I was also a transvestite. It was the first time in my life I had told the truth to others that I was actually singing a different tune.

Destiny was behind me at the time because my admission could have been quite harmful to my military "career" which still had a year to go.  No one I told seemed to care and no one held it against me. As they could have. I was able to concentrate on my two main pleasures, playing music and reading "Dr. Strange" comic books in my spare time. I have said many times, I enjoyed my easy military time the best I could. Tough duty! Right?

After I was honorably discharged back to civilian life, I resumed my commercial radio career working for several small and medium sized radio stations in the Dayton, Ohio area. Music remained a huge part of my life even though my gender dysphoria ran a close second. I was very much mostly out of control until my daughter came along and I decided not to make the move I had planned to make to Texas to continue my career. In essence, I needed to take a more serious look at life. All along life was telling me two things. One of which I loved music and the second was I wasn't sure what gender I should be. Was I destined to be known as one of the newer terms of the time...was I transgender. 

As much as I loved my career, I was having a difficult time at making a living for my new family and decided to give it all up and try my hand at the rapidly expanding restaurant business. Sadly as I did well at running restaurants, my reliance on music to soothe my soul diminished.  I began to rely on my prescribed depression medications to control my Bi-Polar mood issues and my life stabilized. At the same time, my reliance on alcohol went away also. I need to stress, I followed my therapist's orders. 

I still remember how fondly I embraced my musical interests and look back at the time as the only job in my life  when I ever truly enjoyed my work. However, when I emerged singing a different tune, I was eventually able to live a happier more satisfying life.

What I Wear

As I look back on my archived blog posts from years ago, I see many which zeroed in what I was wearing at the time or when I went out into a brave new feminine world. My, how times have changed.

Liz and I at Christmas Dinner

My thoughts are it all has to do with a more or less natural transgender transition, if there is such a thing. Recently it seems I have dwelled on the point I was so zeroed in on how I looked initially when I began to pursue all the work it would take to live a feminine life. The trip at times was an all encompassing journey.  Nearly all of my spare time was spent on trying on my collection of female clothes and trying new ways of applying makeup. 

As I grew, it became increasingly evident to me while what I wore was important, it was decreasing in it's overall importance. Being a girl was becoming so much more important than looking like one. It turned out my feminine appearance was useful in getting by in the world but did not help with my overall problems with gender dysphoria. In fact sometimes it made it worse. Following the times I was very successful in my feminine presentation often I would fall into a deep depression. The more I was successful, the more I wanted to do. The depression was incredibly self destructive and led me to anger issues I internalized until I couldn't take it anymore and began to take my frustrations out on others. The whole process led me to nearly lose jobs or go into frenetic moves looking for new jobs. It took me years to understand completely what was going on. 

These days, since I have been living a fulltime life as a transgender woman for years now, what I wear has become less important to me. Of course any vestiges of my male wardrobe are long gone and I have settled into what is comfortable yet having some sort of style. An example is today I am wearing one of my favorite warm cowl neck sweaters with my black leggings and boots. Ironically even this is being dressed up for me because we are planning to go out and run some errands this afternoon. 

On occasion I miss the buzz I experienced when I first started my gender transition. An example is I follow  @Anna B on Medium who often writes in depth on what she is wearing.  As I said many times I envy her learning curve she is going through as she struggles to find her way. 

I suppose being transfixed with what we wear as cross dressers or novice transgender women is a natural part of growing older. My wife Liz is a prime example. She has seen me at my best and my worst so if I am only going to see in in a day, I naturally spend less time on my appearance. Hormone replacement therapy has helped me also. The process softened my skin and facial lines requiring less makeup. I use a basic moisturizer, eye makeup, lipstick then brush out my hair and I am ready to face the world. 

So what I wear is quite simple these days.

Therapy Day

 Today was my virtual therapists visit. I have been very fortunate in that  I have been able to maintain my relationship with the same therapist over the years. After all, the Veteran's Administration is known for turnover. My therapist initially was the same person who signed off on my beginning hormone replacement therapy and later provided me with the paperwork to complete changing my legal gender markers. 

Also, I make no secret to others that I am bi-polar and no, embarking on my often remarkable  transgender journey to change my life did not solve my overall depression and anxiety. With my therapist I was always able to explain one did not connect with the other and magically disappear.  Before I started my journey, I had experience with other therapists who kept trying to connect imaginary dots with me. So, during our sessions I am always very careful to compliment her for her help and input. 

Coming up next, next week is my appointment with my nurse practitioner who monitors all my meds and bloodwork. She is also very nice and does a great job...as long as my blood work comes back OK. 

Even though I have to make the lengthy drive north to the Dayton VA for my care, I rather do it for the continuity of care I receive. Rather than switch everything over to the local Cincinnati VA Hospital. 

 

Virtual Action

 Yesterday it seems I spent the day doing virtual meetups. 

The first was with my therapist. We discussed, among other things, my recent dual bout with gender dysphoria coupled with bi-polar issues. As always, it was triggered by an off the wall instance. When I returned from the dentist to have impressions taken, it seemed I had left a bit of the residue on my face. Liz wanted to show me and held up her cell phone to provide video proof. When I saw myself, I immediately went into shock after I saw my image. All I saw was an old guy with very long hair and my gender dysphoria along with the accompanied despair set in. It took me several days to climb out of the mental funk I was in.

I am fortunate to have such a strong support system with my partner Liz. She helped me climb out of my ditch. She is so good, my therapist and I call her "Dr. Liz." After a couple days, my depression started to lift and I used the time honored phrase "It is what is is" to accept my state of mind and move on. Whatever I have managed to use to feminize my male body will have to suffice. 

While I am on the subject, I was able to obtain my blood lab results from the weekend yesterday. The important results came back good. My iron was low, so I don't have to go back up to the Dayton, Ohio VA  for a blood removal phlebotomy. They take a pint out to keep my iron levels in line. Also my hormone levels remained about the same. Slightly below level for a normal non pregnant cis woman. What that means is, it's a possibility my endocrinologist will let me add another estradiol patch to our routine. We shall see.

Finally yesterday, I virtually attended the monthly Rainbow Elderly Alliance board meeting. Since I don't have much coming up in the near future as far as webinars are concerned, I was relatively quiet. It was announced though we would be participating in the upcoming June Dayton, Ohio Pride celebration. It's going to be a hybrid affair combining drive thru and actual events. Since I live an hour and fifteen minutes away, it's tough for me to do much. Plus, depending on the planning, I may be going to the Cincinnati Pride this year. It's the biggest in the area if it happens at all.

All of this amazes me. Before the pandemic I didn't even know how to attend a virtual meeting at all. Now I have days which doing on line meetings is all I do.  

In the Woods

 Recently here in Cyrsti's Condo, I posted about "Growing Up Trans"  and received a couple comments about my habit of hiding a feminine stash in an old hollowed out tree I knew of in the woods next to our house. 

One comment came from Jenny on WordPress and the other here from Connie: 

Connie

" Your hiding place in the woods made me think of a line from the old blues song: "I'd rather drink muddy water and sleep out in a hollow log."

The things we go through to find some relief and happiness sound utterly ridiculous, sometimes. In retrospect, I find some of my exploits to be humorous, even though I was very serious at the time I was carrying out my little deceptions. What I find so sad now, though, is that I had become as addicted and drawn to the deception as I was to the resulting euphoria I found in expressing my feminine-self. I'm not saying that "transgender" is an addiction, but I thought that of it that way for much of my life. After all, what I was "doing" exhibited most of the signs of an addiction:

*Spending the majority of your time engaging in the behavior, thinking
about or arranging to engage in the behavior, or recovering from the
effects.

*Becoming dependent on the behavior as a way to cope with emotions and
to “feel normal.”

*Continuing despite physical and/or mental harm.

*Having trouble cutting back despite wanting to stop.

*Neglecting work, school, or family to engage in the behavior more often.


*Experiencing symptoms of withdrawal (for example, depression or
irritability) when trying to stop.

*Minimizing or hiding the extent of the problem.

Of course, in my youth, I had no outside resource for learning what these symptoms were, let alone the yet-to-be-named "transgender." My own guilt and shame were my only references, which had the effect of a vicious circle of dysphoria and euphoria.

Now that I know better, and that my gender identity and expression go far beyond mere behavior, I live with the reality that it is who I am (and was, though unaware) far more than what I do (or did).

If you listen to the aforementioned song, and think of yourself as both the woman and the man, you might imagine why it rings for me. To have drunk muddy water and slept in a hollow log would have been easy, in comparison to what I actually did, in order to have kept that woman (me) from disappearing from my life.:

Along the way, I too considered my cross dressing to be more of an addiction more than anything else. Until I began to journey more and more out into a feminine world. The more natural I felt as an out transgender woman, the better I felt about making the full time gender transformation. 

Thanks for the comment!

Post Christmas Transgender Blues

 It turned out once my late wife started to give me a little support as a cross dresser, the last thing we normally did was a Christmas night gift exchange. Slowly it became my time to receive "girl" gifts. Perhaps you may remember me writing about the warm fuzzy sweaters I wore when I went out as a novice transgender woman. I cherished and took care of the sweaters she gave me so I had something nice to wear.

The gift exchange was definitely saving the best for last and once it was over, it was time to return to the boring male world I had to live in. The depression I felt was real after the gift shopping trips I had tried and the chances I had to add to my feminine wardrobe.

Fortunately, work stepped in and kept me occupied until New Years Eve which I will write about later. During most of this time, I managed a high volume casual dining chain restaurant and it took most of the knowledge and skill I could muster to operate it at a high level. 

At least when I was acting like the macho male manager I wasn't, time went by.  

Once I threw in a touch of alcohol to medicate the pain, I was able to sooth the Post Christmas Transgender Blues.