A Marathon not a Sprint

 

Image from Peter Boccia
on UnSplash.

In my life, I have rarely ever had to run any distance at all. The only times when I did was when I played football and was in the Army. So, I was never a sprinter until I discovered my love of cross dressing as close as I could to a pretty girl. I could not wait until I came home from football practice, and no one was home so I could put on a short skirt like the cheerleaders I admired so much, were wearing.

I wonder now, if I knew how long it would take me and all the trials and tribulations I went through to arrive where I am today, would I have given up on my journey. I doubt it because along the way, my gender feelings ran so deep and I felt so natural as my feminine self, I could have ever turned back. I needed to settle in for the gender marathon I was facing because sprints (which I compare with brief moments of gender euphoria) were hard to come by. It is a good thing, because I was always better at marathons anyway.

I can blame my marital situation on the fact that I was still trying to run gender sprints. Rather than face up to the truth of who I was, for years I tried to maintain the delicate balance of a stable marriage and a rapidly growing love of public living as a transgender woman. All my sprints did were cause problems at home when I was caught and put a tremendous strain on my twenty-year -plus marriage. On occasion, life between us became so bad my wife on several occasions simply told me to be man enough to be a woman. I hadn’t been yet, but I was working on it. She did not know it, but her challenges kept me going during my gender marathon. I just needed time to get it through my old unwanted male head that being a woman (transgender or not) meant more than looking like one.

I receive many comments from those individuals who are just wondering where their gender path will take them. When I do, I try my best to point out I did not magically appear where I am now. It took me a lot of work and disappointment to realize I needed to be better than the average ciswoman to survive in their world. They had a head start on me in the race to womanhood and I needed to work hard to catch up. Along the way too, I found some ciswomen were eager to help me into their world, and some were not. Maybe they had their own marathons they were running in life.

Another thing I learned from running a gender marathon was I had the time to relax and enjoy the journey on occasion. I felt much different than the fast pace of fleeting gender euphoria when I was involved in a gender sprint. Then, it was back again to living in the present as a transfeminine person, rather than living in the future and missing most of the enjoyment. Slowing down also gave me time to research who I really was and who I was, was on the right path in my life. Because I had huge decisions to make. Family, marriage, jobs and friends could have been all on the line. At times I was crushed under the pressure of it all and had to put it down for a different day. Something I could have never done as a gender sprinter.

The moral to the story was that slowing down helped me to determine my own pace. The problem was that I wasted valuable time coming out of my male closet longer than I should of. I finally came to the conclusion that I could not have it both ways. I ended up doing what was right for me keeping in mind that your story you are writing in life could be totally different.

Either way, what you consider is a gender sprint or a marathon is a personal matter and has a lot to do with how old you are. Even though I have read about male to female transitions well after the age of sixty (when I did it) I think it is rarer because those who think they can put it off longer because they have put it off as long as they could. But then, on the other hand, there are people like me who realized their gender truth and could not put off making a move any longer. Before I had to sprint for the finish line of life itself.

 

 

 

 

 

Playing the Short Gender Game

 

Image from Jayson Hindrichsen
on UnSplash.

During my life, I always have taken the easy way out and thought about important things such as my gender as a short-term issue.

I write often of my love for the mirror when I was young. I hated seeing my male self-reflected back at me but completely enjoyed it when the mirror came to life and I was cross dressed as a pretty girl. Perhaps it was then that I started to think of my life as a short-term basis. Would I eventually outgrow my desire to be a girl when I became older, or if I did not, what would happen to me then. To make matters worse, the Vietnam War was ramping up and I had the constant threat of military duty to think of. Normally when I did, and the coast was clear, I ran back to the mirror and escaped behind a dress and makeup.

As I wrote about yesterday on Veterans’ Day, military duty finally caught up to me when my draft lottery number was fifty-two, so all the short-term thinking and worrying I did was a waste of time. I was going to have to put all my love of being feminine behind me and survive the best I could. It turned out that all the worrying I did about my gender issues and sexuality was wasted too. As I stayed very short-term in my cross-dress thinking, destiny took over in my life, and I started to do more and more in the world to express my new feminine self. Even though I found myself living on the edge more than once, I learned to live there until the next challenge came along. These were the years of changing jobs and moving my family way too much.

As I frenetically moved through life, I was moving too fast to slow down and see what the real issue was. It was gender, and sooner or later I would have to deal with it one on one. Until I did, I would be living a lie and a very messy one at that. Out of the one transgender woman I personally know who told me she was never gender dysphoric, I would guess she would tell me also that she never encountered any messy moments in her life when she transitioned. If she did not, she is one of the few that I know who didn’t.

Many of my messy moments stemmed from me being selfish and wanting to maintain my twenty-five years of marriage to a woman I really loved when she was against me going any further as a transgender woman and starting gender affirming hormones or HRT. By attempting to have it all in my life, my mental health suffered, and I made many mistakes as I tried indirectly to out myself to the world. The biggest one was when I insisted on going into my own restaurant dressed as a woman and being immediately recognized which I could have been fired for.

By this time, I was in a downward spiral which I could see no way out of. It all led me to a suicide attempt and more dissatisfaction with life. Through it all, I had a little voice within me saying everything would be OK someday if I just followed my transfeminine instincts. But before I did, I was stubborn and had a lot of life yet to live. Just when I thought I could not go any lower, I did. I lost my wife and three out of the only four male friends I had to death. Which sent me even lower into depression. I was at a point the experts say with drug addicts who must hit bottom before they can start the path upward. Just change the wording to my male self was at the bottom of his journey and it was time to give my inner female a chance to live. Because, at this time, there was no longer time for short term solutions, my male self just had to be done.

Fortunately, I was able to salvage all the years of practice and learning I put into my femininizing projects and did not have to start from scratch when it came to working on my presentation as a transgender woman. I could look at the long-term benefits of my male to female gender transition. It was such a relief to be able to finally change my thought processes around and not play the short-term gender game at all.

Do "It" or Die

 

Image from Claudia Love
on UnSplash.  

I find it humorous when a gender bigot or some sort of other hater thinks transgender women or trans men had a choice when they decided to transition into the gender they should have always been.

The haters conveniently overlook the fact we trans people spend a lifetime of discontent over our gender dysphoria. In my case, the dysphoria invaded my already frail mental health and nearly destroyed it and me. I suffered from being born into the pre-internet “dark ages” where information on gender issues in particular was very hard to come by. It took years of my life before I was formally diagnosed with dysphoria and even worse, a bi-polar disorder.

It all started when I spent my days off work in bed, not wanting to move at all and forcing myself to work to keep my job. Of all people, the first real gender therapist I had diagnosed my problem when I brought it up in a conversation we were having. She ended up telling me she could prescribe medications for my depression but not for me wanting to be a woman. I should have listened to her and took more action than just cross dressing when she told me that. I was still stubborn though, and my male side thought he could conquer all. Setting up an internal war I would fight for years. I was fortunate when the prescribed medications worked with my depression but not so fortunate when they did absolutely nothing when it came to me wanting to be a woman. In other words, my gender therapist was right.

In the meantime, as my gender war raged on, I was out of my closet exploring the world to see if I could survive at all. As with any other novice, I had my good days and my bad days but something deep inside kept telling me to keep going because my survival was at risk. How much so, I still had not fully grasped.

As with anyone else, the years seemed to fly by and regardless of the unlikely idea I could ever achieve my dream of competing in and surviving in a transfeminine world successfully, I slowly was making it. Ironically, many times when I did make it, the trip up was not worth the trip down mentally. A prime example was the night I went to a cross dresser-transgender mixer on Long Island, New York and was forced to show proof I was actually a man before I was admitted to the mixer. Of course, I was on cloud nine for days after that before I crashed back down into my unwanted male world. I so badly wanted to take the next step in my transition but was afraid to do it which created extra pressure on me. Sadly, I took the pressure out on my second wife who I perceived as a problem when she did not understand what I wanted to do.

It turned out, I needed a ciswoman in my life to challenge me to do more than just look like a woman. She forced me into searching for the elusive lives’ ciswomen lead, and why they were so different than men. Still, I was stubborn and thought I had already put that research in until my path took me to a whole different gender world which I was never allowed to visit before. Until I tried and finally let in to see what my wife was talking about.

By this time, I was reaching the point in my life when all my explorations into womanhood were taking me as far as I could go. I was staring ahead at reaching my sixties and knew I was not getting any younger. It was time to try to be approved for gender affirming hormones or HRT and take the next big step towards my dream life. If I did not, I may never have the chance to do it again. Plus, I was coming off the darkest moments in my life when everyone dear to me died (including my wife) and the only comfort I had was my inner feminine self. At that point, she showed me the reality of where I was in life.

As the pressure mounted to choose which direction my life would take at the age of sixty, I chose female and closed the book forever on my male self. At that point, I never looked back and took the pressure off myself. Finally, a wise move and somewhere I could hear my second wife saying I told you so. She did but I just did not listen. And, by the way, I still suffer from depression and from dysphoria but now I have learned to live with both of them by living the way I was born to be.

I did it before I died.

 

 

 

 

 

You Make a Terrible Woman

 

JJ Hart on left. New wife Liz on right.

As I was initially coming out of my intensely lonely and dark gender shell, I dealt with quite a bit of guilt. Especially when my wife called me a terrible woman. I initially thought she was referring to my looks, which she told me she wasn’t.

My second wife was also fond of telling me coming out was all about me which as I look back on it, she was right. My transition was all about me, and I was completely immersed in it. Every time she even made the slightest move to interact with me, I shunned her as I was scared, she was just going to be negative. To be successful, I needed to do it alone it seemed.

I am sure the progress my wife saw in my overall presentation made her feel insecure about the future of our marriage. No matter how guilty I felt about the journey I was taking without her, deep down I knew I had to stay on my path if I was ever going to have a chance to achieve my dream of living as a transgender woman. Which my wife was dead set against.

As I progressed on and on the guilt grew, I was having. Here I was jeopardizing a good marriage, family and job just to wear women’s clothes and makeup. My problem was, I was still refusing to accept the truth about myself. In other words, my desire to be a woman in any sense of the word ran much deeper than just looking like one. When my wife told me I made a terrible woman because I hadn’t paid my dues past looking like one, I knew somehow, I needed to set out to learn what she was talking about, regardless of the guilt involved. To survive, my transition had to be just about me, and I stubbornly pushed forward.

The problem was, the more guilt I felt, the worse my mental health became. I did not know who to listen to, the world at large or the person I was closest to. The world at large was slowly coming to accept me as a transfeminine person while my wife was as standoffish as always about my progress. What she did not know was I was making the strides needed to prove I was not a terrible woman and in reality, a fairly likeable one. Or at least I was trying to.

Time marched on, and my guilt increased to the point where I committed suicide or tried to. When I failed, the entire self-harming episode left me with further problems with my guilt and mental health, so I sought out therapy. Fortunately, I found a good therapist who understood depression and the transgender community, and my life began to improve again. My therapist told me it was alright to feel guilt about the gender transition process and sometimes you must leave loved ones behind so you can live. Beyond all of that, she taught me extreme gender dysphoria was difficult to deal with and before long, our in-person meetings at the Veteran’s Administration were between her and my authentic self. What a relief!

My guilt subsided as my joy increased in my life. Sure, I still had rough spots to contend with, but with my overall knowledge of the world and what to expect, I knew I had finally overcome my fear of actually “making” a terrible woman. In reality what happened was I had the chance to live my way through what my wife told me and in addition. I was not making anything. I already was a transgender woman and had always been. I was just guilty of trying to hide it and internalize it too long. Surely, it was all my fault, and I never had the chance to apologize to her because of her untimely death from a massive heart attack at the age of fifty. I wanted to show her I had paid my dues in the world, and, at the least, I hoped we could be friends. Actions speak louder than words and I know she would never back off from saying I made a terrible woman and in turn at least like the new me.

In life, we rarely have a chance to make a second impression, and it has been nearly an impossible one for me since most of the people I knew as a man (that mattered) had passed away. I needed to concentrate on the new acquaintances I met as a trans woman who never knew my old male self who in his own way had passed on also. Since I did not have a difficult time making and keeping friends in my new life, I must not have been a terrible woman after all.

The Forgotten Woman

Image from UnSplash.

 Over the years of gender infighting, I needed to carefully sustain my transgender womanhood because she often was the forgotten person.

To begin with, she began life as a second-class citizen in my world when I was born as a male in a male dominated family. Essentially, she had two walls to climb immediately to survive at all.   First of all, she did not have any on hands guidance from mom or girlfriends to show her the way through life and secondly, my male self was successful at all in the world, she was completely forgotten. The fragile complement between my genders had to be maintained at all times or she would disappear. Many times, I asked myself why I wanted her along to begin with, but the answer kept coming back, I needed her.

I discovered the hard way, the occasional trip to the hallway mirror dressed as a girl with full makeup, just was not going to cut it. I just needed more. If I could manage to look like a girl, why couldn't I be a girl, if only in my mind. The problem became, when I had to return to my male reality, I needed to forget my girl self altogether. Many days, it seemed like cruel and unusual punishment. when the only true punishment came at the expense of my already frail mental health. All too often, depression would set in when I forgot my feminine self and could not least appease her by cross dressing in the mirror. 

Another problem was, the more I appeased my forgotten woman, the more my male self-hated it. He fought hard when any portion of his life was threatened. He tried his best to make it easier in life by gaining white male privileges which were difficult to give up. I became successful as a male, but try as I might, I could not forget my inner woman. Who, at the time, was learning more and more how to establish herself in the world. Many times, my male self would win the battles in our life when along he was losing the war. A typical female move he was too blind to see as he blustered along in life. 

When my forgotten woman became less forgotten and more accomplished, my male self-started to panic as he could see the end in sight. Without being a winner. Basically, he teamed up with my second wife to attempt to save what they could of my life. At that point, decisions needed to be made in the worst way. My so-called forgotten woman had learned she could indeed live a life on her own terms. The ability to stand on her own two feet after all those years in a closet was so liberating, she knew she could never go back and, on the other hand, my guy knew deep down he was defeated. 

Living a transgender life she had always dreamed of was suddenly all that mattered. She dictated I start gender affirming hormones to feminize my body outside and inside and that was just the start to being accepted in the world. At that point my forgotten woman was not forgotten anymore, and she got her just due for all the years she waited for control. She loved every bit of it.

Finding your Happy Place as a Trans Girl

Image from Trans Outreach, JJ Hart

As I negotiated my way through the gender wilderness I was in, I needed to reach out at times to find moments of gender euphoria or happiness. 

As I have written about in the past, happiness was a learned trait which was difficult to come by in my family. Being good was not good enough, there was always time to be better. Little did I know, I was seeking to enter a world where being better than the average cis-woman was not going to cut it. Being better meant survival. 

As similar to most of you transgender women and/or cross dressers, I started out innocently enough as I raided my Mom's clothes and tried to admire myself in the mirror before my family came home. The whole process worked well for awhile until I grew restless and wanted to increasingly explore the world as my femininized self. Sadly, most all of this occurred when I approached puberty and all the unwanted male changes to my body began to happen. Very soon, I found wearing any of Mom's clothes was impossible as I gained unwanted hair, bulk and angles I hated but were stuck with. It was the infamous testosterone poisoning setting in which I battle to this day.

Rather than be unhappy, the mirror and my mind helped me to battle my way through severe bouts of gender dysphoria. I worked hard on acquiring the proper clothes and makeup I would need on a very limited budget. Of course with no guidance, I experienced many disasters on my journey before I settled in on an appearance which could get me by in the public's eye. I needed to disguise all my testosterone poisoning. Still, I persisted without much help and slowly learned the art of makeup which finally I did get some assistance with. At one of the cross dresser - transgender mixers I went to, I put my ego away and sought help from one of the professional makeup artists they had giving free advice. In language even I could understand, the guy doing my makeup guided me through a truly amazing transformation. Even I thought I looked so good I was happy with the results. 

Even still, the transformation was fleeting and all too soon, I needed to go back to my boring unwanted male life and the happiness I felt went with it. Leaving me in a state of depression. I did not realize having a feminine appearance was only the beginning and achieving any standard of looks went only to the upper levels of feminine achievement for me. Beauty was fleeting and very skin deep for me as I continued on my gender journey. I was told several times by my second wife I made a terrible woman and in no way was she talking about my appearance. She was right and it took me years to put my male ego behind me and learn what she truly meant. 

I also had a close transgender friend who told me one time I passed out of sheer willpower. Which I took as a backward compliment. Meaning I was going to engage the public and do my best to be happy even though I was not the most attractive woman in the room. When I did, I made a huge step forward towards becoming my authentic self. It was not until then did I begin to gain new friends and become happier. 

Sadly, my second wife passed away before she ever had the opportunity to meet the new improved me but I did have several friends who did. Their main comment was how much more happier I had become. I guess I never realized how much my gender issues had shown through to others in my male life. 

When I reached this point, I knew my family and upbringing was wrong. I could be happy in life and appreciate it. Along the way, I learned the truth that all the money and beauty in the world could not buy me happiness. I spent way too long living in the mirror to keep doing it. The friends and wife I made when I put my male self behind me proved happiness was not impossible for me. 

Bonding with Yourself

 

Club Diversity Image. Columbus, Ohio

As strange as it may seem, it took me many years for me to fully bond with myself as a transgender woman.

For years I wondered if I was a woman or a man. Everyday was like groundhog day when I woke up in the morning. Some mornings I felt more like a girl and others as a boy before the reality of my existence set in. No matter how gender fluid I felt that day, I needed to be ready to compete in my unwanted male world. I wish I could say the competition just made me stronger as a male but it never did. Most of the time, the competition just made me want to head home and cross dress as a girl. Plus, I was put into an even deeper frustration place when my brother was home and I didn't have any privacy to try on my feminine wardrobe. 

Bonding was difficult when I was not allowed into the feminine world at all and was destined not to until much later in life. In the meantime, I struggled from one gender struggle to another, All the time, hiding my authentic self from everyone in the world. I suffered so much, I needed all the help I could get to maintain my life as a man and still have any sense of stable mental health. Especially when I was diagnosed with having Bi-polar depression. If you are not familiar, I suffered from terrible highs and lows. When I was up I could do anything. Including transform myself into an attractive woman and when I was down, all I wanted to do was lay in bed and sleep and try to drown out my gender issues with alcohol. Finally I was diagnosed by a therapist and was prescribed medications to help me out.

As we all know, the medication has not yet been invented to relieve the pain and tension of having gender dysphoria. Even now I suffer from dysphoria when I wake up in the morning and look at myself in the mirror. After all these years, I have learned to take the good along with the bad and take the middle road. It has been a good coping mechanism for me. Along with those mechanisms, I learned other ways to structure my life so I could finally bond with my myself. When I did, I found I was a stronger human because I had the chance to experience life from both sides of the binary gender spectrum. Since it is the rare individual who can claim to be all male or all female in the gender spectrum, I was able to find my special place where I could exist in society. The question always was, was society ready for me or any other transgender woman or trans man.

I quickly discovered most of the world did not care if I was trans or not. They had lives to live and were busy doing it. On the rare occasions I did encounter a negative transphobe, my strong personal bonds gave me the confidence to survive. 

Again, bonding my unwanted male self with my stronger, more natural female self took me years to complete. Mainly because I did not have the courage to admit who I was to my true self. Once I did close the gap, my long awaited bond was complete and I could move on in life as a total person as a transgender woman but never forgetting the man who helped get me here. A topic for another blog post. 

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.