I "Doesn't" Know It

 It used to be when I was asked why I preferred to be feminine over masculine, and I quoted a famous baseball announcer for the Cincinnati Reds and said, “I doesn’t know it.” At the time and continuing to this day, I can’t tell you why I identify as a transgender woman. I am just being me.

The problems began when I began my gender path and ran head-on into many obstacles I needed to conquer. I suppose it all started with the possibility my mom was treated with the DES medication to help with problem pregnancies. This was back in 1949, and she had suffered through three still births before I came along. Even though nothing was ever proven, DES flooded the uterus with the estrogen hormone in women and was suspected of causing gender issues later in life with the children under the treatment. Naturally, if I had my choice of being transgender and being alive, I would take the trans life every time because the life I have lived has been different and even more exciting than the normal persons I know.

So, if I cannot blame DES on my lifetime of gender issues, what could I blame? I doesn’t know it. Could I blame mom for letting me watch her apply her makeup before she went out, or my dad who set nearly impossible male standards for me to live up to. Since both of them were products of the “greatest generation” (survivors of the great depression and WWII). They were stuck in their ways, and I was left out when it came to any possible discussion of my gender issues. Plus, both of them have long since passed away, so why bother.

Even though I tried to come out to my mom after I got out of the Army, and was rudely rejected with the threat of psychiatric care, years later when I changed my legal name, I chose my mom’s first name as my middle name and kept my dad’s family name to honor both of them for the sacrifices they made to bring me into the world. I am sure with the lack of knowledge about gender issues at all, they would have honestly said they doesn’t know it when it came to me and my so-called problems which turned out to be anything but in the future.

As I cracked my gender shell and escaped into the world, I discovered two main groups of people to deal with. The easiest group were men who largely left me alone except on isolated circumstances when they tried to mentally abuse me for leaving the male club, I had been a part of. The only thing the abuse did to me was prove I had made the right decision. The other main group was the ciswomen I met. They proved to be very curious of what I was doing in their world and once they determined I meant no harm and was serious for the most part left me alone. The only thing I knew for sure was I was getting more female attention than I ever had in my life, and I needed to make sure I made the most of it. I needed to walk a delicate balance of when to open my mouth and interact, then shut up and listen and learn the basics of survival as a transfeminine person in the world. 

The gender learning curve was difficult, but I managed to learn what was offered to me unknowingly by the women around me. They never knew all they did for me, but I was amazed at the depth of the feminine world around me as compared to the male world I knew. At times I felt as if I was sinking in the new depths, I found myself in until the women I knew rescued me and made me stronger. Finally, I made it to a point where I did know it. I was following my gender instincts for a change and doing the natural right thing. It was time to take the next step and see if I could get approved for gender affirming hormones or HRT. It turned out I made the right decision after quite a bit of thought.

The way my body took to the hormones gave me a whole new opportunity to experience a life I always should have been living. I doesn’t know it was forever replaced by a peaceful gender spirit I wished I could have experienced sooner in life. By this time, I was sixty and had lived quite the life to make up for, as a man. Now I had to make up for lost time and do the best to experience all the gender wonders I had discovered as a transgender woman. 

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.