Graduation Season

 

Image from Logan Isbell
on UnSplash.

It is graduation season around me, and it brought up all sorts of memories of my own graduations. Many far from the usual school graduations everyone thinks about when we think about moving on with life. Plus, it goes much further than just thinking about the pretty new fashions women get to wear on their celebration days. If they choose to do it.

When I look all the way back to my high school graduation days, I always tie it with the prom season which was very close to it. My senior year was actually my second prom, but nothing really changed. I was still very envious of my date’s beautiful prom dress and corsage (which I had to buy her) to add insult to injury. No matter how hard I tried, I wanted the high heeled shoe to be on my foot and not hers and I would be taken out for the evening. Graduation was not as bad as prom because every graduate had to wear the same black gowns, hiding their new fashions until they went to an after-graduation party. But, even so, I still had misgivings about what I was facing following my graduation. As I faced hurdles such as surviving college and the military service which sometime made my gender issues pale in comparison.

Even though I realized a college graduation was in my future too, I did not think of all the other times I would have to graduate in life to survive. Examples included the times in the Army when I needed to graduate basic training all the way to making my way through the “Defense Information School” in Indianapolis. Time was flying by as I transitioned from the college world to the Army and back again three years later when I pursued my second college degree. Aside from brief moments of regression and purging, my desire to be a transfeminine person never went away and was in fact getting stronger. Little did I know I was facing more graduations confined only to how I viewed myself as a person.

Backtracking a bit and going back to my very first time I saw myself in girl’s clothes and makeup in front of a mirror. I realized I had graduated from being a so called “normal” boy forever. Plus, there would be several future gender graduations when I transitioned from being a cross-dresser to a transgender woman and when I began to take HRT or gender affirming hormones under a doctor’s care and took another major step towards my dream of being a fulltime trans woman.

By the time I had gone through all these graduations, even I would have thought I would have grown tired of the process. But I did not. I started to crave the next step in my occupation and my life as a transgender woman. Which put me on a collision course for my future. It came down to which one I would save after the major gender collision in my life. Following years and years of success, one would just have to go. Just trying to look ahead up my winding gender path became a major problem as increasingly carving out a life as a novice transfeminine person on my own terms became a priority over every thing else, I loved in my life.

At this point, my graduations began to slow down and became smaller in nature. Every time I was successful at trying to be the person I always wanted to be, I celebrated my own mini gender victory and resolved to do better on my path. No longer did I have to be envious of the ciswomen around me, since I was allowed to be behind the gender curtain. Which was another graduation for me, as I loved it. It was a major reward for all the work I put into filling out my gender workbook. As a matter of fact, it was the best graduation I had ever had in my life.  If I wanted to, I could wear the pretty dress all the other women around me were wearing.

Until then, I think I was taking all the graduations and transitions I was taking for granted. I was not raised to think anything I did was good enough, so being pleased with my progress towards my dream and being happy about it was a first for me. Ironically, I even was able to use the same restroom in the dinner club I took my second prom date to years later when it became a gay venue. It was as close as I could ever come to reliving the inadequacies I felt so long ago as I looked at myself in the women’s restroom mirror.

Humans are blessed to be able to graduate to many different levels as they transition through life. It is sad because of whatever reason, some people (men and women) are never socialized to make it to a point when they can claim the status of being a man or a woman. They are doomed to never making it past the stage of being male or female and never took the opportunity to graduate to the next level of life. They are the ones who are jealous of and hate transgender women and transgender men for reasons they do not even understand. Often, they are stuck in the past and never have the chance to escape.

If you are busy trying to figure out your next stop on your gender journey, I hope you can take the next careful step and graduate to the level you want to be. In the end, graduation is much more than having a framed certificate for your wall and who would consider having a framed certificate saying you made it to your own form of womanhood above your desk anyhow. Wouldn’t that be something?

Your destination should be your own sense of satisfaction or even happiness because you undertook one of the most difficult journeys a human can take. Congratulations!

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                       

 

Endocrinologist Visit Today

 

JJ Hart at a recent
Cincinnati Pride. Ohio River
in background. 

Just a shorter post because my endocrinologist annual visit is today.

The only paranoia I have is that for some reason, she will not renew my HRT medications for Estradiol and Spironolactone. You may ask why I would have any nervous energy before my virtual appointment, and it is because I am part of the Veterans Administration health care system which is always making changes.

Recently, I had another one of my medical providers “retire” and I needed to switch my care from the Dayton VA to the Cincinnati VA which is closer to me. Fortunately, I was able to make it a seamless switch and even was able to visit my local VA clinic for my initial appointment with my new therapist, which I really liked. But all of that had to do with my mental health medications which the VA puts a higher priority on than prescribing medications which have made my gender transition possible. In fact, it was not so long ago that the orange felon in Washington DC assigned a new VA commissioner who was making threatening suggestions about doing away with gender affirming therapy in the VA altogether.

To my knowledge, nothing ever really became of that statement and the rank-and-file VA employees found ways of getting around it.

Another paranoia I have is my “Endo” in Dayton is being retired too and I will have to seek out new assistance in Cincinnati which in itself is not a bad thing except when it comes to where I must go for appointments. Going to the main VA hospital downtown is always a congested mess and I always must ask Liz to take me because of my mobility issues. If I can just go to my local clinic or have a virtual appointment, there are usually no problems.

My current “endo” usually prescribes me a years’ worth of medications unless there are any changes in my Estradiol blood levels. For some reason, after years of staying the same, my levels went down quite a bit on my last test. Which is the last thing I wanted to happen. So I will have to see what she says about it because I am still undecided on switching from patches to injections at my age.

Most importantly, I am who I am, and my HRT does not define me but it surely has helped. I will never forget all the extreme gender changes my new hormones put me through and would hate to lose all I gained. Who knows, maybe I am just building bridges to climb when I don’t have to with this upcoming appointment. She will maintain the long-term stability and status quo we have built up over the years, and our annual visits will continue.

One way or another, I will let you know.

 

 

 

Connecting the Gender Dots

 

Image from Beya Yurtzkuran'
on UnSplash. 

Connecting all the dots in a life when you have gender issues is never easy.

Especially so when your life’s workbook is completely blank and you have nowhere to go but to struggle. The great majority of transgender women and transgender men grew up with unapproving parents and/or no peer group pressure to shape our gender youth and help us along. At the best, the closest dots we were trying to connect were fuzzy and far away.

On the other hand, with me, my male dots were always crystal clear and easy to at least try to connect. If I was successful on a sports team, I would connect an easy dot is a great example. But if I was cross-dressing as a girl in front of the mirror, I was always confused on how I should act or feel. The only certainty I had was I knew I wanted to feel pretty.

As I progressed through life’s lessons, I learned the impact of achieving the connecting of my feminine dots while at the same time, leaving my male ones behind. Sacrifice became the ultimate name of the game. Especially when my second (out of three wives) kept calling me selfish for my complete pursuit to begin to leave my male past behind and live as a complete transfeminine person. What made matters worse was the fact that my gender dots on both sides of the spectrum were becoming clearer. I was becoming more successful as a father and as a provider as I advanced in my chosen profession, but at the same time, I became better and better at presenting myself as a convincing woman. For the longest time, my dots formed a parallel path. Heading ultimately for a collision.

I was stubborn and tried to separate the dots I was connecting until it affected my mental health so badly I could do it no longer. I was like a juggler trying to balance the two main binary genders as fast as I could and it nearly cost me my life. I was finding it harder than ever to separate my old unwanted male self from my new exciting yet terrifying new feminine self when one side began to bleed into the other. For example, when I was in a company meeting full of men, I would daydream how it would be if I was there as the only woman. Before reality would slap me down and back into the present.

Finally, I could take it no longer, and I began to give up on connecting any more of my male dots at all. I figured if I connected any more dots, it would just create more baggage I would have to deal with when I male to female transitioned. Mentally, I began to make contingency plans on what to do when I could ever connect my female dots and live out my dream. It is when I began to kick my experimentation portion of my life into high gear. I wanted to make certain as little as possible would be standing in my way as I moved forward in life. I needed to deal with the possibility I would lose contact with my wife and family then figure out what I would do to support myself financially. I was fortunate when my daughter stuck around to support me when my only remaining blood relative (brother) did not and I was old enough to support myself on an early social security retirement I earned and selling collectables my second wife who tragically passed away, and I collected over the years. So, I had connected all my obvious dots fairly well.

From there, the most challenging aspect of life I needed to face was the actual one on one daily living a trans woman has to take on. Learning the lessons a ciswoman is raised to know as she transitions from a female to a woman. Such as the shifting from white male privileges to the female privileges that I had only had the chance to dream about and not know because I had never been allowed behind the gender curtain. Once I was allowed behind the curtain, many aspects I never fully realized ciswomen actually go through became a reality to me. I was connecting my dots and maturing into the transgender woman I always dreamed of becoming. All my misconceptions about just achieving the appearance aspect of femininization faded away as I learned there was so much more to me than just trying my best to have an attractive face. It was quite the shallow existence for me as I needed to develop myself into a quality new human being that the world reacted to on a everyday basis.

As it turned out, HRT or gender affirming hormones took final care of the attractive part of my being as I went from being attractive to being the real me. Because the hormones softened my skin and facial lines and helped me to grow breasts, hips and hair. Like I said, all of which were the real me just waiting all this time for the changes to happen.

All the dots I connected were in a big circle. I went from a young boy for the first time being amazed at what he saw in the mirror (and wondering what was next), all the way to being able years later to being able to find the real me and live out my goal of crossing the gender border into a transfeminine world. I could not wait to give away all my male clothes; enjoy the new hormones I was on and live a new life. I was even able to take vacations with my third wife Liz to places I had never been before. All as my new self.

I can’t say connecting all my dots was ever fun and at times very scary, but they were always with me as I lived my life. At my advanced age of seventy-six, I am fortunate that I had the chance to find the real me before it was time for me to connect the final dot and step into the next dimension.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Burning my Gender Bridges

 

Image from Kellen Riggin 
on UnSplash. 

Sadly, following  my gender path included burning many bridges behind me which connected me to my old male past.

I think the problem stemmed from the self-destructive behavior I always exhibited when I did anything remotely successful as a man. I still had not yet faced the fact that I wanted nothing to do with being a guy, and everything that came with it. Including the potential of living with the white male privilege that was an automatic addition to my life.

Then, there was always the part of relief if I was ever caught cross-dressing early in life. Finally, I would be exposed as the deeply feminine person I really was. Life was much simpler back in those days, and I wondered how bad it would be to go to a psychiatrist and try to explain to him or her how I was not mentally ill; I just wanted to be a girl and my ultimate goal in life was to grow into a woman someday. The only way to get there was to risk everything and not get caught, but I never did and did not have to burn any bridges to find my way into early forms of conversion therapy.

It was not until much later in life did, I really began to torch my bridges behind me. The problem was, I needed to build my bridges longer and stronger to carry all the increased male baggage I had accumulated. Most of which was against my will. This was when my male life was outpacing my female life and I was building a small family and a very good job while at the same time managing to hang on to a long-term marriage where my wife was learning about and fighting against any thoughts of me sliding towards leading a transgender lifestyle. I desperately did not want her to be on any bridge that I burnt, and the pressure built on me not to light the match on my life if I took the huge step and decided to keep femininizing myself.

As I reached deeper and deeper into myself looking for an answer, I felt increasingly natural when I was attempting to put together my feminine self. No matter how risky burning my previous gender bridges behind was, I could not shake the idea I was doing something right by transitioning my old male life away.

The next big problem I faced was letting the world I was in know I was switching from my male club membership to the girls’ club. As I was being increasingly successful in carving out a new secret life as a trans woman, I did not want it to be secret any longer. So, I did the natural thing for me, I tried to make it impossible for me to turn back on my gender path. I started to go into my own restaurant dressed as me to see if I was recognized which I quickly was. I could have lost my executive general manager’s job immediately if I was but I was prepared to burn that bridge when I came to it. Looking back, it was not the smartest decision I ever made in my life but one I was desperate to make as my female self was crying out for attention.

When I progressed to a certain point in my male to female transition plan, burning bridges became just an automatic part of the plan because I did not need the male part of my life anymore, I was getting rid of. The prime example as I always point to is the night that something had changed in my thinking that I was not cross-dressing to go out and socialize, I was finally trying to formally join the world as a full-fledged transfeminine participant. The evening was a resounding success, and I knew from that point forward that I could never go back to being a man again. I could see my bridge burning over a not-so-distant horizon and it actually was scary and good at the same time.

I probably would have burnt more bridges earlier in my life if it was not for my second wife and my male self who was hanging on for dear life but still refusing to give up his hold on me. They put up a formidable fight to the point of putting out the fires I started on purpose. It lasted until my wife passed away, leaving only my weakened male self to fight me.

The final bridge to burn was when I was approved for HRT or gender affirming hormones. It was an all hands-on deck torching when my external and even internal body began to change. My sudden change in skin tone, slightly protruding breasts and longer hair which I refused to cut gave my external transition away and the part no one saw, but I felt, such as my emotional growth made itself known to me.

Following years of gender turmoil and change, having nothing in my way felt very good and I loved the hormonal changes I was going through with my new wife Liz. Which was well over a decade now. As I said, burning bridges in my life was always a scary idea but one I needed to do to get to where I wanted to go as a transgender woman surviving in the world of ciswomen everywhere.

I was fortunate in that I did not get burned as much as I did along the way in the process. I must have been quicker than I thought as my trans destiny showed me the way during the darkest nights. Who knows? Being caught on one of my bridges may have been for the best when I needed to work my way out of danger, but it never came to that with me. I became quite good at burning my bridges…or lucky.

Thanks to all of you who have taken the time to comment, clap or subscribe and just read along with me.

Without you, it means nothing!

 

 

 

 

My Gender Workbook was Blank

 

Image from Marcus Winkler
on UnSplash. 

Somedays, I prefer explaining the trip up my gender path as filling out my gender workbook. Of course, the problem I had doing it was I had absolutely no help. No mother or peer group pressure to tell me if I was doing right from wrong when it came to cross-dressing myself as a girl or applying makeup.

Ironically (as I said in a recent post), knowing my mom the way I did she would have been against me shaving my legs and wearing makeup as early as I did as her secret daughter. I was only trying to get a head start on writing my own gender workbook and trying to catch up with all the girls around me who also were sneaking around wearing makeup and wearing panty hose.

It was fairly easy for me to make up my own workbook rules when it was just me and the mirror to deal with. No matter what I did as far as my feminine presentation was concerned was accepted by my mirror which kept lying to me and telling me I was a pretty girl. Which was much easier before I hit the curse of male puberty and all the changes my body was going through. I was seeing unwanted growth and angles while the girls I envied around me were getting curves. When I went to bed every night, I dreamed of my life being different but of course it never was. I would not get the curves I wanted until decades later in life when I was fortunate to have good health enough to be able to start HRT or gender affirming hormones.

There turned out to be tons of effort I needed to put into my workbook before I could arrive at the point where I could even think about starting hormones. The shortcuts I kept trying to make never seemed to work and usually got me in trouble. When I did find trouble by trying to do too much with poor fashion choices, finally I gained some sense, rewrote my gender workbook and went on to successfully try to blend in with the world of ciswomen as a transgender woman. Looking back, I think that page of my book had so many erase and start over marks that I could barely read it.

When I really began to get serious about seeing if I could be successful as a trans woman was when I desperately needed my gender workbook to help me, but it just couldn’t because I had not put the time and effort into filling it out. I had never given enough thought to how different the lives of men and women really were. Perhaps you remember the book “Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus” which when I read it, I wondered where trans people came from. I did not know yet we transgender women and transgender men get to occupy a special planet all our own with our unique knowledge of both men and women.

As I first began to mature into a more complete transfeminine person, I sometimes discovered my mental gender notes became overwhelming, and I needed to head back home to go over in my mind about what just happened to me. Good or bad, it did not matter. What was most unexpected to me was the amount of acceptance I received in the new world I was in. I had become used to the glares and abuse I took when I went out of the house in my early days and learned the majority of the world did not care about me one way or another. All the way to those other women who encouraged me to be in their world. Nowhere in my gender workbook did I ever imagine such a thing ever happening to a person like me just trying to find a new foothold in the world as my authentic self after all the years of struggling.

Sadly, there were still times when I ran out of ink to write in my gender workbook, and I attempted to purge everything I had accomplished and go totally back to my old safe male world. As most of us know, purges never work, and before I knew it I was out buying more feminine clothes and makeup to femininize myself all over again. By doing so, I finally came to the point of stopping obsessing over how I looked and settled into just being the person I was meant to be all along. I just did not want anything to do with me being a privileged male anymore, I just wanted to live out the long-held dream goal of mine to live as close as I could to a woman.

Even at that point, my gender workbook was different than other trans women friends I had known when I made the decision to live my life without all the major gender realignment surgeries and facial surgeries the others had gone through. I had two comments which described me the best when a transwoman friend of mine said I passed out of sheer willpower and another which came in on a comment and said I was just another old guy on hormones. Both were right in their own ways, and I wrote a mental note in my workbook that I would never be the prettiest woman in the room, but I could be the nicest. As far as the comment on me being an old guy on hormones, I wondered if the commenter was just jealous and it did not matter anyhow because I had always considered my gender to be between my ears and not between my legs and I had made it through life as far as I did with no surgeries at all, so there was no need to risk damage when I was older.

Also, I was fortunate to have been able to have other ciswomen around me help finish my gender workbook to where it is today. More than they ever knew, they taught me how to validate myself as a trans woman and welcomed me into their world. A major accomplishment in my life.

 

What is THAT Sound?

 

Image from Jason Rosewell
on UnSplash. 

What’s that faint noise I hear far in the distance? It took me awhile to figure it out, but it was the sound of my feminine self-yearning to be set free to live. Very early on, I thought she would go away as I aged but the opposite turned out to be true. She grew stronger as the years of my life progressed.

That is when I started to realize just looking at my cross-dressed self in the mirror was just not going to be enough. I wanted more of the feminine life I had experienced. What I was experiencing was the idea of I had much more than a casual interest in women’s clothes and makeup. I was more into how they lived. The term transgender had not even been invented yet, so I had nothing to compare my feelings with. I did not think I was transsexual like Christine Jorgensen, but I was certainly different from other cross dressers I was seeing in my well-worn copies of “Tapestry” and “Transvestia” magazines. When all of that happened, the sound kept getting louder and something larger was wrong with me and it took me years to realize what was wrong with me was not what the sound was telling me.

I went on fighting myself searching for the truth I was looking for when it was right in front of me if I chose to see it. I ignored the advice of my handpicked gender therapist (one of the few I could find back in those days) who told me she could do nothing about me wanting to be a woman but could do something about my manic depression. Which I always had thought was something to do with my gender dysphoria. She told me it wasn’t and helped me by prescribing medications to help me in everyday life. At the time, it turned out, I was ready for help with my depression but not ready to face the facts about my gender future. I was used to loud sound from my days as a radio DJ and I was stubborn enough to want to hang on to a dual gendered life.

At the same time all of this was happening, I was beginning to explore the world as a novice transgender woman and learning every time I went out what the sound I was hearing really meant. I had life all backwards with my struggles to live a male life and the sound was telling me increasingly I was destined to be a woman all along. Not in the mold of having extensive major gender operations but doing it on my own schedule as I marched to my own drummer. Yet another sound which was growing in volume. Before I did though, I needed to undertake an extensive program of more exploration. I desperately did not want to make the move across the gender border at some point and find out I had made the biggest mistake of my life. My spouse, family and job meant so much to me, giving them up for no real reason scared me beyond belief.

Every time I began to have doubts about my upcoming gender decisions, my drumming sound grew louder as I felt more alive and natural when I was allowed behind the gender curtain with cisgender women. The work I was doing to prove myself to the world finally was paying off, for the most part. When I suffered a setback, I had the confidence and experience as a trans woman to do the right thing and move forward in my new life as I followed the sound of gender success. During this time, even though it is a blur to me now, I still remember that it all was not pleasant as I went through the turmoil of deciding which way I was going to turn next.

I know what you are thinking, what was she doing even thinking about turning her back on the gender future she had worked so hard to build. But I did as my male self stubbornly tried to drown out the sound my feminine life was making. Perhaps desperately would be a better term because of all the male privilege he had built up. He was desperate to hold off any more change.

Finally, the sound of change became deafening to the point where it could not be ignored anymore. I was not getting any younger and my transgender transition clock was ticking, loudly. As I had a huge heart to heart talk to myself, I came up with the decision to seek a doctor’s approval for HRT or gender affirming hormones as a natural progression of my feminine progress. In addition, I decided the hormones (if my body responded positively to them) would be the point of no return. I would have to come up with a different way to support myself financially, plus gather the courage to tell what was left of my family the truth about myself. As it turned out, the hormones began to feminize me faster than I ever thought possible and soon it became increasingly difficult to hide my protruding breasts, longer hair and softer skin than ever before. Long story short, my daughter accepted me and my brother rejected me as I revealed my life to them so I had the best of all worlds with the support of my daughter.

Ironically, one of the changes I went through was I had a greater, deeper appreciation of sound and music as a transfeminine person. I had gone full circle in my life understanding what that sound was and better, yet what it meant to me.

I always loved being right when it mattered most, and it did when I relaxed and listened to the sound of my gender spirit. I should give all the credit where credit is due…to the little sound inside of me who said keep trying when the going gets rough. Through the good times and the bad times, she was always there to help me survive.

 

Gender Lost and Found

 

Image from Ewoud Van Der
Brandon on UnSplash. 

On occasion, I think you must hit rock bottom in your male life before you can begin to build a new feminine one. I equate it to my own transgender lost and found in my life. Before I get into what I found when I started my path to my dreams, I decided I had to have a basic knowledge of where I wanted to go.

Seeing as how I was born into the pre-internet times when information came in magazines arriving in the mail, I was stuck in the “Transvestia” world of Virginia Prince if I wanted any information at all about transvestites or cross dressers, as Virginia called us and oh yes, we had to be heterosexual to join. Through it all, I was intrigued by the pictures of attractive men dressed as women, as well as the entire world of mixers you could go to. If you happened to live close enough to one to go which I did. Ironically, the mixers I attended did not do me much good because the only mixing which happened involved my brain when it was all over. Often, I left more confused about where I wanted to be with my gender struggles than when I started.

None of my searching was helping much and my attitude about myself was sinking to an all-time low. I felt lost and forsaken in my life and felt sorry for myself because I was the one who wanted to do away with being male and assume a feminine existence. It took me a while, but I finally backed off from being a victim and my ideas of whom I really was started to improve. I had hit rock bottom and was beginning to improve, which helped primarily my fragile mental health. My goal was to close my transgender lost and found department for good.

Sadly, I was a little ahead of my time to closing my department because I still had so much more to learn about existing and competing in a world run by ciswomen. With or without men. I labored under the impression if I could present well enough as a woman with my makeup and fashion, that would be all I needed to do to enter the world as a trans woman. I totally ignored all the layers of life a female needs to go through to be socialized into a full-fledged woman and I was painfully aware not all females make the transition. And even more aware of the path I would have to take to make my own transition because I had even farther to go to make it to my goal. I needed to be even better than the average ciswoman to be able to be accepted in the world and be allowed behind the “sacred” gender curtain which women used to provide a layer of protection from men.

On my path to going behind the gender curtain, I had at least one big stop sign I needed to work my way around. It was proving how badly I wanted to give up all my male privileges and start all over again. I just did not magically appear in the ciswoman’s world asking for admittance without paying my dues. My transgender lost department was closed as a man, and I found I had done the right thing by pursuing a feminine life. My only problem was that I was impatient about the road I was going down and constantly I wanted more. Before I knew it, I was even getting ahead of myself in the plan I had set up for my grand gender transition. Here I was busily carving out a new feminine life where no one knew me as a man while at the same time I still had a loving wife, family and good job to deal with because I knew I could lose them all when I found my transgender self completely.

My problem also was, I was filling out my gender workbook faster than I ever imagined I could and my plans were coming into focus. No longer did I have just dreams of the possibility of transition into a feminine world, I had the reality of doing it. My lost and found was gone from my male side and he had finally begun to see the reality of his situation and gave in to the feminine side of life which was taking over for better or for worse.

It was at that point in my life when I pursued my ultimate dream of pursuing HRT or gender affirming hormones as the next step in my transition to being a transfeminine person. I went to a doctor for a physical and was approved to start a minimum dosage of the precious new hormones I was taking. Almost immediately, my body began to feel the changes as if it had always been meant for them to happen. The changes always take a whole blog post to describe, but to put it simply, my internal changes such as my new emotions would fill a book. The external changes became quickly obvious too, as my hair grew along with my breasts and my skin began to soften along with the angles of my face. I can only describe the changes as amazing and magical as they made living as a man impossible to me anymore. I had to close my male life and never look back.

I can not oversimplify it enough about all the stress and work I put into to close my transgender lost and found for good. To be sure, it was a labor of love to do it, and I would have never had it any other way. If Indeed I had another choice anyhow. Once I determined I never really did, I could relax and get rid of my guilt about doing away with all the male privilege I had worked so hard to earn. In the end though, it was worth the struggle.

 

 

Is Your Life Running Away

 

Image from Zac Ong
on UnSplash. 

Running more and more over the years described my life on so many levels. Most all because of my desire to be a woman. Over the years, I have moved many times, mostly because of a search for better jobs along with cross-dressing opportunities. I thought moving from my conservative smallish Ohio town to the huge metro New York City area would provide me with a more liberal base of people to work with. Which just wasn’t true, I found for the most part, I was still hiding my desire to go public in my skirts and makeup most of the time.

Mainly, it was a learning experience until I began to get older and all of a sudden saw time was moving away from me. Maybe you could call it my transgender biological clock. No one lives forever, and I still needed a chance to live out a chance to live life as a transfeminine person before I died. My new attitude added a certain importance into learning what I could about living as a woman. Or what I like to call, slipping behind the gender curtain to see how the other half really lived alongside a world of men who thought they ran the show. After several attempts of running straight ahead into failure in the public’s eye, I began to get it right with my presentation. Allowing me to explore more the true world of ciswomen who had carved out successful lives for themselves.

When I did all of that, I ran directly into communication problems. I will forever remember the first night when I attempted to add my thoughts to a group of men, I somehow found myself a part of. Suddenly, I found myself being totally ignored in the conversation and I needed to leave. There were pros and cons to what happened I found because the positive was I had presented as a woman well enough to be ignored but the negative was the whole affair marked the first time; I felt a major part of my intelligence along with my male privilege was being taken away from me. For the longest time, I felt the impact of running directly into a gender wall.

Happily, I did not receive any black eyes I needed to cover up with makeup from the running collisions I was having with the public as I set my high heels in motion to conquer my little part of the world. The personal stubbornness I had to succeed came back to hurt and help me when I moved forward in the feminine world of ciswomen. It hurt me when what was left of my old male self-tried his best to dictate how I should look for the world, which led to many fashion disasters. It helped me when I needed to pick myself up after getting knocked down again and again as I was trying to see what I would have to do to be a successful transgender woman. When I was able to put all my old self behind me was when I was able to finally see my future and run to it successfully.

The whole process of male to female gender transition was very exhausting as I tried to live in both major gender binary worlds for a short while. I always mention it to pass along a warning to all you who are thinking of trying it too. In the short term, painting yourself into a gender corner you cannot get out of is no fun unless for some reason you want it to be. For me, all it did was wreck my already fragile mental health situation. Since I already had been diagnosed as being Bi-Polar, I was already trying to keep one clinical depression controlled when I had another creeping up on me when I could not express my feminine self. I needed a lot of good therapy to separate the two potential huge problems. When I was doing it, I was still running as fast as I could to continue to chase my dream of living as a successful trans woman. Which would ultimately lead me back to just being me.

The frustrating part was the running target I was aiming for kept moving on me. Once I thought I had all I needed to play in the girl’s sandbox safely, I discovered another aspect of a woman’s life I never considered. Mainly because I was naïve and knew a woman’s life was different than a man’s, but I was not prepared to find out exactly how different. All the varying layers of a ciswoman’s life really got to me for a while until I began to get my gender workbook filled with relevant new ideas on how I was supposed to live. In other words, all the doodling in my workbook started to make sense and I could see all the running I was doing to catch up coming to an end.

Either way I was getting into shape from all the running I was doing, or I just began to give it all up as I began to become much more successful in the world as a transgender woman. At this point too, the HRT or gender affirming hormones I was approved to take helped to calm me down and sync up my internal and external selves. Internally I began to feel emotions I never knew I had and externally I was helped along by softer skin, longer hair and my own breasts. Among all the other changes the hormones brought about. I just wished I could have started HRT earlier in my life because the changes felt so natural and I would not have to spend my whole life running from an invisible foe, myself.

Now in my advanced senior years, I am finishing out my workbook on its final pages. My final transition is just being the true me I always was meant to be. Deep down, I was never meant to be a runner after all.

 

 

 

The Power of Allies

 

Image from Peyton Sickles
on UnSplash. 

I don’t know if I could have ever made it to my dream of living as a full-time transgender woman, without the help of strong allies.

There were many times when I had hit a stopping point on my gender path and was clueless on which way to go. Mainly because I was attempting to find myself as a woman so I could continue to live after a failed suicide attempt.

I have several examples. The first of which came when I first started to go out and secretly wanted to find a social life as a trans woman because I was so lonely after my wife of twenty-five years unexpectedly passed away from a massive heart attack at the age of fifty. In the past I had considered myself a social person, and it hurt deeply to be lonely. At first, I went online and tried the usual methods of establishing a contact or two to date but I ran into the usual problems of inviting all sorts of trash into my life, which included many no shows when I had arranged to meet someone in public. Which was the only way I would do it for personal safety reasons.

In the meantime, I was fortunate to escape the gay venues I was going to (where they thought I was just another drag queen) and establish myself in a couple of the big sports bars I used to go to when I was a man. Places where I could drink pints of beer and watch sports on big screen televisions. Ironically, being alone in one of these venues led me directly to my first two powerful allies.

The first happened to be the mother of one of the bartenders who set up a casual date between us one night where she worked. It turned out we got along really well, shared the same interests and set up future dates, so my end to the extreme loneliness I was feeling was looking like it might me coming to an end. I was further encouraged not long after that when one night a woman came in to pick up her to go food order and suddenly slid her phone number down the bar to me, to my amazement. Not long after that, I kept the number and had the courage to call it.

From that point forward, the three of us made an inseparable trio as we watched sports and drank beer in the venues we met in. Plus, as it turned out, the two women turned out to be lesbians which put a unique perspective to my life as I was regularly attending lesbian mixers and learning any thing I could about the culture which was so new to me. As we socialized together, I was learning as much as I could about being a woman. The first major lesson I learned was that I did not need validation from a man to be a woman which was a relief because of two reasons. The first being that I had very little interactions with men at all primarily I think because I was not attractive enough. The second of which was I really did not want to deal with all the drama I knew men can bring from all the time I spent as a man. I knew how to deal with ciswomen all my life and felt more comfortable with the drama women bring. I always had more women friends than close male friends.

The two most profound allies were yet to enter my life at that point.

As part of my online searches, I did have one response from a Wiccan/lesbian woman in nearby Cincinnati, Ohio. She told me I had sad eyes from my online picture, and we slowly began to correspond by text messages before I felt comfortable enough to talk to her in person. Finally, I got over my shyness and after talking to each other I decided to ask her out on a date. She accepted, and we decided to meet halfway between our homes with friends and go to a drag show at a well-known gay bar. We ended up having a great time and decided to set up another date. This time with my other friends at a women’s roller derby event. I was in gender heaven to be able to go with three other women to one place and enjoy myself for once. My help from allies was coming through for me.

At the same time, I needed to come out to what was left of my blood family. My parents and most of the rest of the family had passed away, leaving only my daughter (only child) and my only brother to come out too. I thought at the time I would have problems with my brother and hopefully not my daughter and I was right. My daughter’s only real reaction was why she was the last to know and my brother totally rejected me by not inviting me to the annual Thanksgiving Day dinner. He sold me out to his rightwing religious in-laws, and I have not spoken to him since which has been over a decade now. I was fortunate when my allies (daughter) and Liz stepped up to help me in my time of need. Not only was I invited to one Thanksgiving family dinner, but I was also invited to two. Even though I was happy to have someplace to go for the holidays, it was quite stressful for me to meet people at my daughter’s in-laws who had known me for years as a man but also meet Liz’s dad and brother for the first time.

The best part of having all of these strong allies on my side was they expected me to be myself. In fact, I was still on the fence of living as both binary genders as I met Liz. It was not too far into our long relationship that she told me the final words to kickstart my final plunge to a feminine life. One day Liz told me what I was waiting for, she had seen both sides of me and had only seen the female side, nothing of the old unwanted masculine me. That was it, I agreed and went about giving away what was left of my male wardrobe and never looked back as I started HRT or gender affirming hormones to further femininize my exterior self.

Along the way, I tried to explain to all my ciswomen allies how much they had done for me, but they would not take any credit. They never understood how much they did to help me become the happy transgender woman I am today. And, by the way, Liz and I finally got married after eight years and now have been together for over a decade.

 

 

Buckle Up for the Ride

Image from Inis Piazzi on
UnSplash.

I am biased I know but I think negotiating a full-fledged trip through the gender frontier from one side to the other side is one of the most difficult things a human can do.

Unless you are blessed with an overabundance of feminine qualities and characteristics, you very much start out from point zero with your femininization project and it shows. I am an example as I thought I looked good with my tight clothes and makeup which would have looked good on a clown in drag in the circus. In all fairness, it took me awhile to catch up because my gender workbook was blank and I had no one to help me fill it out. No overly concerned mom to tell me what not to do with makeup and no peer group of girls to coach me along. It was all me, and it showed. Except in the mirror which kept on lying to me by telling me I was a pretty girl.

It wasn’t until I began going out into the world did, I find out how wrong the mirror was. Numerous times, just after the mirror told me I looked great, I was bounced by an unforgiving public back to the safety of my closet. Through it all, some people were so cruel with their comments, they sent me home in tears. It was during those dark days when I really had to buckle up and decide what I was doing was right. Somehow, deep down inside, I knew I was right and I needed to figure out what exactly I was doing wrong when I cross -dressed and went out.

What happened was, I had the where with all to look around at all the ciswomen around me and notice what they were doing. By doing so, I noticed a few of the women were as big as I was, so size was not the issue which was dooming me to being laughed at. It was how I moved and how I interacted with the world which mattered. Plus, it helped that my makeup skills had begun to dramatically improve. I quit feeling sorry for myself and started to fill out my own gender workbook without being a victim. Because I was stuck with a testosterone poisoned body and somehow, I needed to work my way around it.

I started by going on a diet which I lost fifty pounds on and started to take better care of my skin after I shaved, so I used less makeup and found less was actually more. At the same time, I began to haunt the local thrift stores for just the right piece of clothing which I could buy which flattered my new slimmer figure. I still had my male torso with the broad shoulders, and I had to dress my way around them. I discovered new favorite outfits with loose flowing tops combined with denim skirts that worked really well for me.

Little did I know, all this progress I was making was placing me on a one-way track towards an on-coming train. And that train was how I was going to communicate with the world which suddenly accepted me? I was extremely shy and had a difficult time communicating with the world anyhow and now I had to add on a new totally foreign language to deal with, the language of ciswomen. Initially, I was too petrified to say anything but then slowly gained the confidence to shyly join in conversations. It was so new and difficult that I needed to really buckle up to do it. I found if I did not, I would destroy everything I sat out to do by appearing mean or worse yet, bitchy. The last thing I wanted.

Once I buckled down and put my fear of communication behind me, my world opened wide with new vistas of gender enjoyment. It turned out that what I said was more important than how I said it and with that knowledge, life became easier as a transgender woman in the world for the first time.

No matter where you are in your gender journey, look ahead and not behind you. Sure, you can learn from the past, but it should not dominate you and stop you from proceeding along your way. Keep in mind, you are on a very difficult journey with major life risks at hand such as spouses, family, friends and jobs. Also beware of the trap I fell into when my second wife accepted me as a cross dresser but then completely rejected me as a transgender woman. She was correct in thinking there were vast differences between the two. Just putting on a dress and makeup just did not solve any of my gender problems anymore. I increasingly wanted more of life in the feminine world and was buckling up to get it by wanting to be approved for gender affirming hormones or HRT. I was eventually approved for the dramatic changes the hormones made but sadly my wife passed away before she could experience any of the changes with me.

In my long life, it has been a rarity for me to experience firsthand any trans woman or trans man who has had a smooth, uneventful journey.  So, if you are just considering starting, or just beginning your gender path, it is best to prepare for a bumpy ride, so buckle up tight for the trip. Undoubtedly, it will provide you with setbacks and surprises you never expected. Like I always say, the gender trip is like a rollercoaster at a big amusement park, it is worth the price of admission if you let it be. As I said, just be sure to buckle up for the ride of your life. It is one most humans never get to take.

Think of it this way, make your buckle part of your fashion accessory and everyone can admire it.

 

 

The Dream was Never Out of Sight

 

Image from Egor
Vikrev on UnSplash

On occasion, I write about my ultimate dream of someday living as a fulltime transgender woman. As is the case with any dream, making it a reality is often very difficult, and it forever remains a dream. The main problem I had was having the confidence to move ahead on my seemingly endless gender path. Somedays, it was like I was walking on air in my high heels and others, it was like I was walking through quicksand. I would be confidently clicking away in my heels until I hit an unseen crack in the sidewalk and almost broke my ankle, which was a prime example of my life at the time.

Even on the days when I was doing my best impression of a linebacker in heels, I tried to keep my head up and look to the future. Hoping for a better day when I could do a better job of presenting in the world as my dream woman. Growing up in my male life, I was accused continually by my parents of never finishing a task. It turned out, working towards my dream of crossing the gender border was the first real project I never quit on. Take my use of makeup for example, I would not rest and kept experimenting until I got it right. I became so good that my second wife would break down and ask me for advice on how to do her makeup. I don’t think she ever knew most of my makeup knowledge came from the night I gathered the courage to take off my wig and makeup and have a true professional redo my face and more importantly explain to me what he was doing as he did it.

Those were my shallow days of thinking being a transgender woman just meant looking like one. As I was told many times by my second wife, I made a terrible woman because I had not paid my dues to achieve my own womanhood. The whole process set my dreams way behind because there was little to no way of me sliding behind the gender curtain to gain the right to play in the girls’ sandbox. How could I ever achieve my dream, if no one would let me in was the frustrating question which I had over and over again. In the meantime, I was stuck cross-dressing in front of the mirror and keeping my dreams alive and knowing deep down someday I would achieve my own unique transfeminine womanhood.

The main problem I had was gaining the confidence I needed to keep my dream alive because deep down I had doubts about whether I could ever make it. Because at the time, all I had were the annual Halloween parties I went to. Even the parties were a struggle on occasion as I needed to figure out my “costume.” I went from thinking that sexy was the way to go, all the way to trying to fool the other attendees into thinking I was a ciswoman who just got off of work. By the time several Halloweens had rolled by, I had achieved my dream of being mistaken for a woman but then was faced with the dreaded what then? Looking ahead at waiting another year for a costume party was unbearable and damaged my dreams of trans womanhood. I knew from my party results I was becoming tantalizing closer to my dreams but getting there still seemed like they were miles away.

As I finally began to leave my mirror and gender closet and explore the world, I began to understand what my wife was trying to tell me. I was a terrible woman out of ignorance as I tried to mold an entirely new person. All I had to work with was my appearance which was just skin deep when I needed to communicate with mainly ciswomen in their world for the first time. For my “sandbox” I chose the bar scene which I was used to and provided me with many unique situations. Many of which I don’t recommend. Along the way, I found myself as a single woman in a bar attracting unwanted attention until I built a group of friends to mingle with. Fortunately, the vast majority of those people who wanted to interact with me were women, so I did not have to worry about a bunch of drunk toxic men.

As I survived this stage of my life successfully, it was time to seriously consider where I would go next. Would I stay where I was at, afraid to go any farther, or would I be brave and take the next step which would be HRT or gender affirming hormones. Following much thought, I decided to seek the HRT path by going to a doctor. By doing so, I discovered what a huge portion of my life I was missing. My body took to the hormones so naturally that I felt I should have been on them my whole life. Just another indication to me of how close my gender dream had always been. I just needed to reach out and grab it.

Perhaps, you may have a similar dream for your life. Mine turned out to be a single-minded pursuit of me wanting to cast aside being a man and start being a woman. Regardless, the way I did it could be different from yours. I chose a “stairstep” method of my male to female femininization process. What I mean is, every time I was successful at one level of my transition, I needed to choose another gender project. If I wasn’t shopping for that new favorite outfit, I needed to figure out where I was going to wear it, is an example.

When I finally made it to the point of being able to live my dream, I certainly had paid my dues and had a lot of help from friends to therapy. They all helped to lift me from being a so-called terrible woman into a well rounded trans woman living her dream which was never far out of sight.

 

Did I Believe in Magic?

 

Image from Delphian Lacub
on UnSplash.

It is rare, but on occasion, I still hear the question of when I knew I had gender issues.

The truth of the matter is, I always knew I was transgender. I just did not know how to express it until I was older. It was after my early explorations into my mom’s clothes did, I realize the potential magic I was holding when I carefully tried on her clothes knowing fully it would not be long until I would outgrow all her wardrobe and I would be in never-never land when it came to finding feminine clothes to wear.

Somehow in the near future, I made do with stretching elastic girl’s clothes I found in the lost and found box at the school I went to. I had a short skirt I managed to squeeze into that I cherished forever it seemed. Around that skirt I managed to build the basics of my style with the money I earned from allowances and stray jobs I found. I delivered newspapers and even mowed a cemetery for a dollar a hour in the hot summer sun, just so I could sneak out to a store and buy more feminizing items. Through it all, I believed in the magic which made me who I truly was.

It was always difficult for me to hang on to my trans truth because at the same time I was experimenting with being a girl, my male self was actually able to establish himself successfully in the world. Which just served to tear up my fragile mental health enough. Until you must wake up in the morning wondering if you are a boy or a girl, you don’t know what I am talking about. I would not have wished it on my worst enemy.

On certain occasions, my magic was strong and I felt like a girl when I looked at myself in the mirror. On other occasions, life was hell when I could not find the time to sneak around and cross dress as the girl I was. It was during those times; I had to rely on just that small amount of magic to get me by. One of the problems was I was so envious of the other girls around me at school in their pretty clothes and admiring looks from all the boys. I dreamed of being just like them.

It wasn’t until I began to explore the world as a novice transfeminine person, did I finally realize what my magic was all about. All of the doubts I had on where I was headed in my life began to dissolve when I began to feel so natural in my progression. Life was a blur as I was going out to be by myself in the world as a transgender woman. By doing so, I was able to meet strangers who accepted me for who I was. For the first time in my life, I was able to shed the long shadow of the remnants of my male past.  Every night, I was able to find my way out to one of my regular venues, be it lesbian or straight, I never wanted to return to my male self at all and lose my magic.

It turned out, my magic never went away, it just became stronger. So much so that I made the move to forever give up my male ways and start gender affirming hormones or HRT. The hormones just reaffirmed and strengthened my belief that magic could happen and I could indeed be the transgender woman who could forever lose her male past and survive. I could change my life from being married, with friends, family and a great job into a much more mellow existence.

It just took me too long to realize how deep my magic went in my life, and how backwards I had my whole existence and how much pain it caused me. It was my fault because I did not believe in my own magic enough to do something about it rather than be a part-time cross-dresser. I always point out I have nothing against cross-dressers at all because I depended upon it to live my life for so long.

Did I believe in magic? No. Should I have, absolutely.

 

 

What is Chasing You?

 

Image from Filip Mroz
on UnSplash. 

As human beings, we all have something that is chasing us. As transgender women or trans men, that something which is chasing us may be more serious.

As we all know, gender is one of the most basic wants and needs for a person. At birth, we are put into a male or female box which is often very difficult to change. In my case, I was born into a very male dominated family as their first-born son, so changing anything with my gender was totally out of the question. In addition, information on gender dysphoria was difficult to find in the pre-internet days.

All of this set me up for a chase which would dominate my life for nearly five decades. Mainly because my male self-had a huge head start on the race to claim myself. He was born into male privilege that he just had to compete in the world to claim. Along the way, he managed to do quite well in the privilege race, which made it more difficult to give up his male life when the time came to do it.

As I became older and more settled into a routine, what was chasing me became more evident. I wanted to be a transgender woman more than anything else in my life. It all set me off in a collision course with changing jobs and moving from my native Ohio as I desperately tried to outrun what was chasing me. I thought each move I made would bring me closer to living the dream life I always hoped was possible. Examples included moving from a small conservative town in Ohio to the huge metro New York City area so I could be closer to a more liberal cross-dressing area. Even though that proved true to an extent, I found I still had the same restrictions on expressing my feminine self as I had in Ohio. So, I moved back to a very rural area where I thought I could hide my cross-dressing ways. Ironically, the best move I made was the next one when I moved back near to Columbus, Ohio where I could reconnect with the small group of diverse friends I had made before at crossdresser-transgender mixers I had went to.

Through it all, all my running was becoming increasingly exhaustive on my mental health. I was taking one step forward towards my goal of living a transfeminine life, while at the same time taking a step or two back when my public persona as a woman was discovered and I was crushed mentally. I kept going back to my gender drawing board until I got it right, or to the point where I could go out in public without the fear of abuse.

When I did reach that point, the feminine person chasing me upped her game and I needed to get better when I interacted with the world. What happened was people started to recognize me, so I needed to start building a whole new person. I needed to choose a new name to fit my personality and stick with it. Which also meant I needed to attempt the most difficult task of all for me, the time I spent communicating one on one with other women. I needed to throw my innate shyness out of the window and learn the basics of eye-to-eye communication which I learned was so big with cis women. Plus, I really wanted to learn to interact with women because I could learn so much from them while at the same time not coming off like a mean bitch.

As I learned to relax and interact with my new world, the inner female which was chasing me could relax a little too. At the same time, my male self-began to finally realize he was losing the race for dominance in my world. More and more, I felt the fear of giving up my male privileges fade away as the introduction of female privileges set in. For the first time in my life, I felt free of the gender struggles which had defined me. I remember vividly the night I sat by myself and added up all the pluses and minuses to the moves I was considering making. The end result was in my life as a novice transgender woman, I had never felt so natural and free. The decision was an easy one for me as I decided to take the next step and seek a doctor’s approval for gender affirming hormones or HRT. A move I considered for once and for all, end any questions about what was chasing me.

That decision brought all the exhaustive chases to an end in my life. The only problem was it took me until the age of sixty to face my inner truths and find peace in my life.