The Biggest Lie

 

Image from Dave Goudreau 
on UnSplash.

Sadly, the biggest lie I’ve ever told in my life regarded my biggest truth.

The lie of course, regarded my gender identity. For simplistic reasons I could say the problem I faced early in life was having a complete lack of information to lean on. It was back before the internet information years, and I thought I was the only boy in the world who wanted to be a girl part of the time.

To compensate for my cross-dressing activities, I was prepared to lie my way through it. If I was ever caught red handed because of leaving lipstick on my fingers. Due to whatever circumstances which were beyond my control and very lucky, I was never caught by my family. Although I always have wondered if my mom somehow knew but hoped my fascination with her clothes was just a phase I would grow out of. The best part was, I never was caught or questioned so I did not have to lie my way out of an ill-advised trip to a psychiatrist. Back in those days, being a transvestite (the term which was used) was a mental illness problem. Not something I wanted to face. So, I hid in fear.

As I weighed the two alternatives, fear or lying, I chose to internalize the fear I was feeling every time I put on feminine clothes. Once again, I was able to put off lying to the one biggest person in my life…myself.

All was well until I was discharged from the Army and returned to civilian life. Once I did, I began to pick up where I had left off with my gender issues. I even went as far as almost telling my first wife who was also in the Army and was being discharged several months after I was, to expect a totally different me when we met again. I was totally thinking of meeting her as my transfeminine self. As much as I secretly wanted to, deep down I knew I was not ready for such a big move, so I hid my feelings again and lied my life away, for a while.

You know what they say about lies, the more you lie, the more you have to. Just to stay above water. Before long, I was drowning in my own personal lie, until I met my second wife. She was much stronger than my first wife who never said anything negative to me at all considering my gender issues. I often thought wife number one would not protest at all if I told her I was leaving for a period of time for sex realignment surgery. She was just too easy, and I divorced her to be with my second wife who also knew of my cross dressing. Which started out good but deteriorated

I say deteriorated because my second wife did all she could to support my growing gender issues until I had outgrown both of us. All of the times she encouraged me to go ahead and rent a motel room and spend the day out as a woman taught me valuable lessons. First and foremost, I could make it in the world as my feminine self after all. Then, the big lies started as I began to go out on my own when my wife was at work, from the house. Which was something I told her I would never do. By doing so, I began to live the biggest lie of all, as I was increasingly aggressive in my attempts to do more and more in the world away from my masculine self.

Naturally, the tailspin I put our marriage into put a strain on both of us. Especially when she caught me going out. When she did, a massive fight would break out for days until somehow an uneasy truce would be called. At times, things would be so bad, my wife told me just be man enough to be a woman. The problem was, I was still lying to myself thinking I could keep my married life balanced with my transfeminine one. I just was not that good a juggler to do it. Again, mainly because I could not face my truth.

Sadly, my second wife passed away before I faced my truth. Being the wise one in the relationship, she knew me better than I knew myself. Pushing me to pay attention to what it really meant to be a woman.

Now I just wish I did listen to her and went ahead and transitioned. Sure, it would have been difficult but living the life we lived was difficult too and I could have started living with a clear conscience. Being the stubborn person that I was, I kept on living a lie until I could take it no longer and finally made the move into a life I could enjoy as a fulltime transgender woman.

By the time I transitioned most of the important friends I had known (including my wife) had passed away. Leaving me alone in the world to carve out a new life in my sixties. It would have been very difficult, but I wish I had listened to my wife and been man enough to be a woman sooner.

 

 

Jumping Through Hoops

 

Image from Jennifer Mela444
on UnSplash. 

The more involved I became in the transfeminine world, the more I found myself jumping through hoops. Many times, in my heels.

It seemed, every time I became comfortable enough in my transgender womanhood, something would come along to set me back. Sadly, most of my setbacks came at the hands of my deceased second wife. She was accepting me as a cross dresser but recoiled and drew a line in the sand when it came to any idea, I was transgender and wanted to move forward to gender affirming hormones. As much as I wanted to argue (or plead) my case, she still said she did not want to be married to a woman.

It was my fault I did not have the courage to tell her she already was married to a woman. Like it or not. So, since I lacked the courage to follow my gender instincts, I did the worst possible thing and tried to hide all my activities such as leaving the house dressed as a woman. One of the things I promised I would never do. But, as hard as I tried to hide it, she always would somehow catch me coming home when I was cutting my time away too closely. To save what was left of our twenty-five-year marriage, I went as far as seeking therapy. I went to therapy mainly to provide my wife with an idea I was jumping through another hoop to save our relationship.

I have therapy to thank for helping me to strengthen my mental health, but my wife never knew it was not helping our marriage. In fact, one therapist even told me she could do nothing about my desire to be a woman at all. Leaving me with no hoop to jump through at all, and I would have to find another way. In the meantime, I knew just sitting around the house admiring myself in the mirror was not going to cut it in any way. Once I had jumped the hoop and was successful in the public’s eye, there was no way I could ever go back to my old life.

Deep down I knew, I had to keep pushing forward as I set gender goals for myself such as taking the giant step of leaving the gay bars and seeing if I could be accepted in sports bars. When I found out I could, I was ecstatic and kept on going. However, through it all, jumping through hoops was never easy as I kept on doing stupid things such as overextending the water-balloon breast forms I made in my pre-silicone days. Of course, I had one of them break and created a mini flood at one venue I was a regular in. As I said, I needed to very quickly upgrade to silicone breast forms to prevent any future disasters. I had enough other problems to worry about. Such as, what was the new person I was creating be like.

Suddenly, I was beginning to understand when my wife called me the pretty, pretty princess and told me being a woman was more than just looking like one. Most importantly, I was in the middle of learning exactly what she told me. When I was going to my venues and socializing as a transgender woman, I was jumping all the hoops I needed to get by. More precisely, I was learning the layered life a woman lives when men think they are running the show. On more than a few nights, I became so tired of jumping hoops, I just gave up and headed home exhausted.  Along the way, I was facing passive aggression from ciswomen who really resented my presence at all. I learned to leave the other women behind and move on to people who at the least did not dislike me. Life was too short to waste it on bigots and haters.

Tragically, my wife passed away before she was around to meet the new and improved me. It would have been interesting to see if she recognized I took her up on her advice. I tool a crash course on her instructions that a woman was far more than appearance. My period of exploration was intense and to the point and I could deflect my future any longer. I needed to take it upon myself to finally achieve my lifelong dream of living a transfeminine life.

My hoops became so much more real than the earrings I was wearing. I was finally in the process of paying my dues my wife had talked about. What she never told me was, I would have to be allowed behind the feminine gender curtains to really could do it. One led to the other and while it was never easy, similar to jumping all the hoops I needed to jump, I made it. Heels and all.

 

The Clash of Gender Ego's

 

Image from Sherest Gupta
on UnSplash. 

Through most of my long life, I needed to deal with the clash of egos, doing battle for my existence.

On one side, I had my well-worn and battle tested male ego who was doing his best to make it in a world where he did not want to be. On the other, I had my deeply hidden feminine side who only made her appearance in front of the mirror and then went back into hiding. In other words, my male ego attempted to dominate while at the same time, my female ego was hiding, just exactly where she did not want to be.

For the longest time, to make matters worse, I did not think women had much of an ego at all. Except maybe with their appearance. As I made my way through life, I discovered how wrong I was. On several levels, As I always warn about, my male ego dictated how I dressed early in my life when I was going out in public. I fell in love with several compliments I received about my legs when I went to Halloween parties and made sure I showed them off to the extreme when I was going out for the first time. The idea was all well and good except I was doing nothing to overcome my broad shoulders and torso. I had no fashion balance, and it showed with the number of times I was made fun of in public. My male ego had failed me. I was dressing to his tastes and was failing.

It took years to do, but my female ego finally took control and slowly but surely, I began to blend in with the other women around me. For a moment, I even thought my clash of egos was over, but I was completely wrong. My male ego was very stubborn and still thought he had some sort of control over my life. He refused to believe he had lost all his male privileges and nearly got us in trouble several times before he learned the hard way what problems could exist.

One of the biggest issues was the idea of my sexuality and how it would or would not change with my new transgender life. Of course, Mr. Macho recoiled at any thought of intimacy with a man, but Ms. Self wasn’t so sure. Like many women, she had a spectrum of ideas about sex which were not so rigid and paranoid. In fact, I made a concerted effort to date a few men to see what (if any) excitement would happen. It just so happened women turned out to be much more interested in me as a trans woman, my choice was easy to make. For once, my male ego won. For the wrong reason.

One of the earliest instances I can remember of a lesbian woman approaching me happened one night at a mixer/party I went to at a friend’s house in Columbus, Ohio. At the mixer, I ended up approaching another woman and having a brief conversation before we decided to leave for a while and go to a big lesbian club to mingle even farther. We ended up having a good time that night, but since I still had a wife to go home to, I could not stay long enough but visiting with another ciswoman who happened to be a lesbian was a wonderful experience and would set the path for my future. Although, I did not know it at the time, primarily because my male and female egos were still clashing.

By now, you may be asking the question, who was winning the struggle? My woman was, even though my male self would win every now and then, it was as if he would take one step forward and two steps back. On the occasions when my second wife would catch me coming back from a night on the town, he would jump forward into purge mode. Vowing to never wear any female clothes ever again. All the time knowing there was no way possible he could ever keep his promise. I had crossed too many lines in my gender sand to go back, and the fact was becoming increasingly evident to him and my wife, there was nothing they could do. They were waiting for me to face my own reality.

Solving my final gender issue was easier said than done. My male self was hanging on for dear life until the very end, and he nearly pulled all of us down in the process until therapy and suicide came into play. Finally, I needed to pick a winner in my gender ego clash, and I was wise and picked the only way I could go. I put my old male self completely aside and begin to live a transfeminine life I had only dreamed of. I wondered why I did not pick the winning side years ago and live my truth.

 

 

Gender Selfishness

 

JJ Hart, Key Largo, Florida.

Often as I discovered my transgender womanhood, I felt extremely selfish. Who was I to sacrifice my male life with others just to cross dress in the mirror for me.

At the time, I regarded myself as a clown in drag and ugly in every way possible. With those thoughts, how could I even think I could succeed of my dream of living as a woman someday. To have any success at all, I needed to be selfish and forge a one-way path to feminize myself.  

Defining selfishness was a problem also. I went from thinking I was merely in a phase, all the way to finally realizing I was a full-fledged transgender woman. Along with all the responsibilities of living a new life. I needed to face the reality of knowing every step I took would be different and others close to me would have to come along for the ride. Or be left behind. Mainly, I am referring to my second wife, who for several reasons drew the line at helping me femininize myself. The number one reason was one I had to totally agree with, which was she did not want to live with another woman and specifically one she did not like.

Through it all, I tried to discover why she did not like me. Since she has long since passed away, I can’t ask her for an honest answer. My best guess is she did not the amount of makeup I wore and the wardrobe I had acquired. Plus, she especially hated the idea of me leaving the house cross dressed as a woman anytime she was not around. Essentially, I was cheating on her with myself. I was the other woman. Naturally, I was torn too, as I just could not stop exploring the new world, I was excited to find myself in. All my efforts just put me in the cross hairs of my mental health. I was selfish and put myself in risk of losing a marriage of twenty-five years and give up the chance of living my dream of living as a woman. These days I make no secret of trying to take my own life with an ill-advised suicide attempt. I thought there was only one person who could truly help me, and I had burned that bridge with her. So, I was trapped.

Fortunately, with the help of a good therapist, I found my way out of the darkness I was in, and she helped me to understand the gender situation I was in. I started to take it for granted I was selfish, but I had to be to save myself and my mental health. At that point, I knew I would not have wished the period of life I just had went through on my worst enemy. My dark closet was even becoming darker even though I was beginning to explore the world as a woman. Transgender, or not because often gender borders were blurred. To focus on it, I needed to be more and more selfish in my life and every spare moment and thought had to be involved in feminization.

By this time in my life, my biggest hurdle was overcoming the loss of my second wife. Sure, she resisted losing me to another woman, but I still loved her dearly, and we did have many good times together. What happened was my long ignored inner female stepped in and immediately took over. She exposed us to many new social interactions to see what would happen and if when we conquered it, we immediately moved on to often more delicate social situations. She was really into testing me to learn how serious I was about the transition I was considering.

One of the main tests was when we decided to seek out gender affirming hormones. To do it back in those pre–Veterans Administration days, I needed to find a doctor to approve me. It was not given since I was nearly sixty at the time and had to have a health exam before I was given permission. I was approved for a minimum dose and soon was allowed to pursue a life changing hormonal program. Overall, the hormones turned out of be a wonderful gift to my inner self and allowed her to sync up her old male external male self with her strong feminine self to make a more complete human being for the first time in my life.

It turned out, my life of being selfish was the only way I could escape the male life I was born into. It was amazing how quickly my mental health recovered and for the first time in my life, I felt happy. The weight taken off my shoulders was amazing.

 

Coming Home

 

JJ Hart (Center) Wife Liz on Left, 
Daughter on Right. 

The process of crossing the gender border from male to female, always felt as if I was coming home.

From the beginning, my dual genders clashed, causing me to often sacrifice my already fragile mental illness when I was diagnosed as being bi-polar. Naturally, it was difficult to separate one issue from another when I became depressed and just wanted to curl up in a ball and left alone. On most occasions, I could just cross dress in front of the mirror and take my mind temporarily off my trip to find my true home.

The trip proved to be much longer than I ever thought it would. I never considered it would take me on a fifty-year odyssey. Complete with too many blind curves and dead ends to mention. If I was to attempt to mention any of the major problems I had with my transition was there would be so many more transitions than one. The gender border crossing was so complex, it would take me several different ways at once. I finally came to the point where I was simply trying to raise the bar of living as a transgender woman every time I went out in public. In my earliest days, it meant concentrating on more than just my feminized appearance. I needed to put my appearance, no matter how good or bad, into motion. What good would it be to look like an attractive woman if I was moving like a linebacker.

Every time I made a move forward in my transition, I could imagine myself living my gender dream. Which in most cases scared me more than anything else. What would my life be like without all the male privilege I worked so hard to earn. Perhaps the only stable idea I learned was I was much more than the casual cross dresser who just wanted to put on a dress for certain occasions. As suspected from my earliest days of admiring myself in the mirror as a girl. I wanted to do much more such as be a girl or at the least find out if the public would accept me as one.

I put many hours of work into my femininized presentation. I tried and tried to get my makeup right, even to the point of losing nearly fifty pounds on a diet I undertook. When I lost weight, I was able to fit into my stylish clothes, so it was a huge win for me. Along with the intense skin care routine I followed. Suddenly, I discovered I could use less make up and prove less was more. All these moves proved coming home indeed may be reality if I kept working hard enough. For the first time in my life, I made a concerted effort to achieve a very real goal. My transgender womanhood.

As I said, coming home involved several other minor and major transitions. I began to do so called womanly duties such as grocery shopping into my days when I could. I also added gift shopping at Christmas (and other times) to my time as a woman. Through it all, I was learning how the world would possibly accept me when I was able to make it home. All these actions showed me the feasibility of proceeding with my gender plans, though many questions remained unanswered.  Such as, what would I do about the basics of my life such as what to do about my wife, extended family, friends and having a basic income to live on.

It was around this time when destiny set in to provide me with major answers in my life. Tragically my second wife passed away, at the age of fifty, along with most all of my very few male friends. As far as family was concerned, my daughter stepped up to be my most steadfast ally, until my third wife Liz stepped into my life. Finally, I learned if I waited a relatively short period of time, I could take an early retirement on Social Security and solve my financial issues. The only loss I sustained was with my brother and his extended family who roundly rejected me. So much for close family ties.

When I made it to my true home, it was like day and night. It was as if a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. My mental health improved with the help of therapy, and I was better able to face my life on a more equal basis than I ever had before. Surprisingly, I had very little re-arranging to do to live in my new house. It seemed my inner female self-had been not so patiently waiting for her chance to take over my life. Once she earned her spot in the public eye, she knew exactly what to do to survive.

 

 

Finding Your Comfort Zone

 

Image from UnSplash.

Being a transgender woman, trans man or cross dresser means you need to find your own level of comfort as you transition.

For all sorts of reasons, some of us decide to go all the way from gender realignment surgeries to deciding to stay in their gender closets. It is a difficult decision to face the possibility of losing everything in the life you have worked so hard so succeed at over the years. 

In my case, comfort levels came sparingly to begin with, then increased in frequency as time went along. For example, I had an exceedingly difficult time becoming situated as a novice transgender woman in the world. Possibly, most of my problem came from my own refusal to face up to who I truthfully was a person. My gender situation led me to a very bad situation where I was stuck between the two binary genders, male and female. Of course, I still needed to maintain my male world in the job I worked, but on the other hand, I was spending every spare moment I had trying to reach my comfort level as a trans woman. The end result was, because I was denying my true self (female), I was wrecking my already fragile mental health. 

Fortunately, I was able to work my way through my messy mental problems and come out rather unscathed with the help of a good therapist. Together, we were able to separate my bi-polar depression issues from my transgender issues which dominated my life. And I mean total domination. I was very into advancing my life in a feminine world and attempting to figure out how and when I should let go of my old male self. Finding my comfort zone finally began to come in stages.

What I did was set up what I thought was a mini bucket list of things I wanted to do as a woman. Or at least try to. As with anything else in life, I sailed through a few of the items on my list and hit a brick wall on others. Overall, I was able to use the confidence I gained from my successful feminine ventures and go back to the drawing board and figure out what I was doing wrong on the others. For example, one of the best things I did was stop going to the gay venues where I was only perceived as a drag queen and began going to the sports venues I was comfortable in. When I did, I was encouraged to begin to build a whole new person as I quickly began to establish myself as a regular. Since my business background was in similar venues, I knew the basics of establishing yourself as a regular. Show up often, try not to be a distraction, smile often and tip well were the basics. Since I already stood out from the crowd as a transgender woman, the rest was easy. 

Through it all, the comfort zone I needed the most was access to the woman's room, for obvious reasons since beer was my drink of choice. I was overjoyed when rest room access was granted to me when I became a regular. I even was invited to join other women when they made the short trip to the bathroom. I was very sure I had arrived. 

It is easy to equate being in a gender comfort zone with acquiring all important confidence to get by in a new world. Life was amazing when I was a woman and hell when I was not, so finally, even I could tell a change was needed. No matter how complete the separation would be.

My needs had changed from my old male days and to not face them head on would be a return to the same old gender problems I had faced my entire life. For once in my life, I decided to do the right thing, and I found my comfort zone. My male self-gave up and freed me up to build my transgender womanhood. 

All I Saw were Walls

Image from Cristina Hernandez 
on UnSplash.

 I saw walls everywhere as I needed to build my own gender closet to protect me.

When I discovered I needed walls to protect my gender secret from the world when I was quite young, I managed to build strong ones. Difficult for anyone to penetrate because I felt something was basically wrong with me and if I was discovered, I knew a psychiatric visit was in my future. Back in the late 1950's and early to mid 1960's, any form of cross dressing was still considered a mental illness, and I knew well enough I was not mentally ill from wanting to try on dresses and makeup. None of that served any positive purpose, and I was driven deeper into my closet of walls. 

Soon enough, I began to escape my walls and began to explore the world as a cross dresser, long before I made my second major transition into a transgender woman. In the beginning, and for years afterwards, I grew frustrated on my progress and began to take more and more chances when I left the house as a woman. It was almost as if I was trying my best to get caught. So, everyone could see in my closet of walls and discover what was really going on with me. One way or another, discovery could lead me to a release of the gender torment I suffered from, and I could go on to live the life I had always dreamed of.

What I discovered was, dreams and reality were two different things. Or could I ever hope to go out and mix in well enough with the world of everyday cisgender women and survive. I was quite naive for years and thought I could be accepted as my form of an everyday woman by simply looking the part. Which led me to many memorable experiences in the girl's sandbox. Many of which I barely survived because I had allowed the wrong woman access to my closet. I had wrongly thought some women would allow me behind the gender curtain without a struggle and I needed to escape the sandbox with new claw marks up and down my back. Over time, my wounds healed, and I became a seasoned veteran of survival in a world ruled by women. 

As I did, my walls became the path of transition to transgender womanhood I was taking. I needed to plan far past just a day at a time presenting as a woman the best I could. How was I going to approach the time which was rapidly approaching when all of my life would be consumed by living my dream, and how did I stop it from becoming a nightmare? To make matters worse, I kept running headfirst into walls set up by my old male self. He never wanted to let go of his world and I needed to be careful I did not slip back into it when I was not paying attention to the way I walked or communicated in the world as a transgender woman. I was capable of ruining my whole day by forgetting to smile at the world, doing my best to talk like a woman, or move like a linebacker in drag. It took me years for muscle memory took over from my feminine side and I began to climb the walls I needed to be successful in the new gender world I was in. 

The best part was, I was seeing fewer and fewer walls. I had passed most of the challenges I had set up for myself. When I did, I became much happier and knew if I tried to stop the train I was on, I would go back to the miserable life I was trying to live between two genders. There was no way I was going to do that because of all the time and effort I put into releasing myself from all the walls I had built.

Building Gender Bridges

 

Image from Alexander Rotker 
on UnSplash.

I have always been one to build too many bridges to jump off of in my life. 

In fact, if I don't have anything to worry about, I will create something. Looking back, I was especially bad at building huge, tall bridges when I was at the height of my trip to transgender womanhood. I felt I was partially justified in doing so because of all the problems I experienced when I was coming out of my gender closet. 

Before I began my trip, I was a fairly freewheeling person. If something happened for me to take care of, I would and at the same time, not spend much time worrying about my future. Even though I still faced major problems in my life, I could still conquer them, or escape back behind my skirts, heels and hose to hide. As I progressed in my life, I found my time was running out as a parttime cross dresser. Either I needed to do more or purge myself altogether of a pastime which had kept me from jumping off so many bridges I had built. 

Another problem I discovered was when I began to be more skilled at building my gender bridges was becoming, I was increasingly under more pressure to be successful. The more success I felt as a transgender woman, the easier my life became except for the very serious bridges I faced such as communication with the world. 

The best time I have for building my bridges is late at night when I am trying to sleep. These days, I have plenty of things to worry about. In fact, next week, my wife Liz and I will be heading north to my daughters, mother in laws lunch. During that time, I hope to find out what has happened to my transgender grandchild job offer as a civilian nuclear engineer with the Navy in Maine. Hopefully they have been able to stay under the radar so far and has maintained the job which they wanted to start this fall. (They is their preferred pronoun.)

Going to see the family is always very affirming as I have been accepted for years as my authentic feminine self. Early on it was very difficult for me to adjust to because nearly everyone in the room had known me for years as my old male self. Others including my first wife, who is the mother of my only child usually always attends, and she has a difficult time sometimes not referring to me with the proper pronouns when recounting a few of the long-ago days when I was trying to live as a macho man. Plus, we also met each other while we both served in the Army in Germany. With all the extra baggage I carry when it comes to her, I think she has done a good job of building a new bridge to me over the years.

Now, at my advanced age of seventy-five, I find myself looking ahead at the biggest bridge of all. When it is time to enter a new reality when I pass on. I have decided to do the best I can with all the aches and pains I have and keep a positive attitude. Of course, there are other major bridges to think about also when and if I need to enter assisted living, which I am not looking forward to. Liz and I were supposed to attend a special seminar put on by an attorney specializing in "elder law", but Liz got sick, and we did not go. So sometime in my future, I need to insist we find an attorney to give us a consultation. 

In life, it seems, there are always bridges to build. It is just a special problem unique to gender conflicted transgender women and trans men. Overtime, we can become very good builders and even better at hiding our results. Fortunately, there are more and more trained therapists to help us these days. Ironically, some of us have to go through several therapists until we can find the proper fit. So, we can find someone who can build a solid bridge, rather than tear it all down. Which, if you are like me, you tried to do many times during various purges. 

A Private Journey

Virginia Prince

Being a young person with gender issues forced me into my own deep shell.

 Plus, the times I grew up in did not help. I battled having no real gender information in the times before the internet and social media. In fact, the first real indication I had there were any others who shared a similar desire to change their gender was when I discovered "Transvestia" Magazine and "Virginia Prince". Initially, I was so fascinated, I just needed to learn more.

My private journey became less private when I began to attend transvestite mixers, as they were called back then. From my well-worn pages of "Transvestia" I learned several of the mixers were within driving distance of me in my native Ohio. Immediately, I began to make plans to do the impossible dream and attend. I could not imagine what it would be like to meet in person, another cross dresser as I perceived myself to be. It all struck an emotional chord with me, and I could not wait for my first mixer. I felt, at the least, the event could help to get out of my shell and not be so private. 

Of course, I found out I was expecting way to much from my first meeting with others with gender issues. To start with, I was not prepared for the layers of participants at the mixer. Everyone from beautiful transsexuals to "cowboy" cross dressers with their hats and cigars. Somewhere, in between was me. Wondering where I should be in the group. All Virginia Prince and "Transvestia" told me was, I needed to be heterosexual in order to fit in. Prince never said anything about all the different individuals I would encounter. Long story short, I found I did not really fit in with any of the other attendees. Again, I was stuck in my own private journey.

Throughout my disappointment in not meeting more like-minded individuals to share my gender hopes and dreams with, I at least found a very few others I could socialize with. Better yet, they lived even closer to me in near-by Columbus, Ohio. One of the transsexual women had a very nice, restored home in a historic area of the city and regularly hosted her own mini mixers. Since I usually worked weekend nights, I could not make it to all of them, but the ones I could, I enjoyed immensely. 

On my visits, I even discovered others who were exploring their new gender lives as more than cross dressers since the new transgender terminology was still being explored. At the time, I knew I was not completely into, going through all the gender changing operations, but then again, if I could do it, I would love to pursue a trip into transgender womanhood.

Maybe I kept my journey private because I was just that type of person, or I just had never met many people I trusted with my deepest secrets. To this day, I think I can count on one hand, the people who know all about me. Even including my long-time therapist. My wife Liz used to harass me by asking me what we talked about, and I had a difficult time coming up with an answer. Even so, I am a believer in therapy, as it did help me to come up with coping mechanisms for my complicated gender life. 

As I look back, I have come a long way from the pages of "Transvestia" but not far enough to totally say I have ever left my private journey which was so completely embedded in me when I was younger.

Creating Gender Tension

Image from Tim Mossholder 
on UnSplash.

 
I am aware of the natural tension which goes on between the binary genders of male and female. 

I am also aware of the added tension which goes on when a transgender woman or trans man tries to cross the gender frontier to live on the other side. For me, at least, the tension became ridiculous and ruined my mental health which was already fragile. Before I was diagnosed with gender dysphoria, I was diagnosed with being bi-polar also. At the time, the diagnosis seemed to be a double-edged sword because I was wondering why I suffered from deep mood swings and blamed the swings on my gender issues. When I found I had deeper mental health issues, in many ways, it was a relief they were not tied in with my cross dressing. On the other hand, ideally, I could treat being bi-polar with medications and move on with my life.

My worry was any future therapy I might seek out, would involve the therapist attempting to tie my mental health in with my need to be a woman. Even though it was true, my gender needs did conflict with my mental health and cause tension, they were both separate entities and needed to be dealt with separately. I was fortunate in that I had two long term therapists who agreed with me, and I was treated as such.

However, my gender tension never went away, and, in many ways, I just learned to live with it. What I did was, resort to what I did when I was younger and try to cross dress my way through my transgender life. Predictably, when I was cross dressing, life was good and when I was not cross dressing, it was not. I was mean and tried to take it out on the world around me. I became so mean on occasion; I lost a job because of it. What no one understood was, I was being tougher on myself than anyone else. In typical male fashion, I was internalizing my feelings until they exploded. I even used therapy as a crutch with my second wife who had to put up with me. The best way for me to explain it is, I would never quite tell my wife what my therapist said. The prime example I can give you is, very early in my sessions with a certified gender therapist, she told me there was nothing to do concerning me wanting to be a woman. Sooner or later, I was to just have to follow my instincts.

There was no way, I could tell my wife that when I was supposed to be undergoing therapy to save our marriage. So, I ignored what the therapist told me and predictably, the gender tension continued and even became worse. I did my best to tread water and try to live a life divided between being a man part of the week and a trans woman when I could the remainder of the week. It nearly killed me as I tried my best to maintain an impossible life. My best was not good enough and I attempted an ill-fated suicide. When I woke up the next morning after taking all the pills I had and chasing them with alcohol, self-preservation kicked in and once again I made the wrong decision and resolved to purge most of my feminine fashion and make up, then go back to my male life. 

We all know the majority of gender purges don't work. Certainly, it did not work for me, even when I grew a beard to satisfy my second wife that I was not doing anything related to cross dressing at all. Once again, my gender tension rose to a very ugly level, and I was very unhappy. Little did I know, my life was due to change in a very tragic and dramatic way when in approximately six months, my wife passed away from a sudden heart attack. 

The life changing experience led me back to my feminine self and I never looked back. When I did, the gender tension I was suffering from disappeared and I felt free.  

Nobody Understood

 

Virginia Prince

What really hurt me when I first realized I had gender issues was when I had no one to share them with. I was all alone with my problems, or so I thought.

I lived in fear of discovery all the time from my parents or my slightly younger brother. Even then, I knew discovery meant an unpleasant trip to a psychiatrist. The closest friend to me who may have shared a few of the same feelings, ended up moving away. With him, both of us were allowed to experiment wearing his mom's old clothes and putting on her makeup. It was the closest I would ever come to having anyone to share my true life with. Ironically, we never talked about the cross dressing we were doing. We just did it. 

As I said, my friend and his family ended up moving far away and years later, I often wondered if he had any gender issues too which stayed with him. Plus, as I always point out, I spent my youth and the years leading up to college in the information "dark ages", or the time before the internet became so popular along with social media. All I had was my cherished copies of Virginia Prince's "Transvestia" publication to get me by. At the least, "Transvestia" showed me there was a community of others with the same gender leanings I had. Also, in my well-worn issues I saw meetings or mixers within driving distance of me which I could go to. I was excited when I learned I could actually meet other self-proclaimed transvestites in person. The problem was, once I learned I could meet them, was I brave enough to do it. 

You all know, I was brave enough to meet them but then I encountered another problem. No one at the mixers still seemed to understand me. I was too much of a woman for the cross dressers and not enough of one for the transexuals. This was back before the transgender term and meaning was even used and popularized, so once again, I was stuck with no one to understand me.

Finally, the world began to catch up with me and I understood where I was when it came to the cross dresser - transgender community. Even better, with the help of the internet and social media, I began to stay in touch with others with similar views. Suddenly, in many ways, everybody had some sort of an understanding about how I felt. It may have taken me a lifetime to do it, but I made it into the only community who knew what I went through.  

Maybe the problem with the world as we know it these days has been influenced by people who have never met a transgender woman or trans man at all. To understand a trans person, it certainly helps to have followed a similar path. Even briefly. 

In recent years, I went from no one to understand me to having a whole group of people who have not taken the time to even accept me on a basic human level. It seems, I have gone full circle to arrive nowhere. 

No Struggle no Progress

 

Image from UnSplash.

Basically, when it comes to doing anything really important in life, to progress you need to struggle.

As far as being transgender, often it seems our struggles are impacted. First of all, most of us are not blessed with any natural feminine characteristics to work with. At least, I did not think I had any except perhaps my legs which often ruined my fashion sense when I tried to focus on my legs and not try to cover up my wide torso and broad shoulders. I struggled with my overall image until I got it right and I began to blend in with the public at large. 

Far more important to me was the mental struggle which went along with my journey to transgender womanhood. For the longest time, it seemed as if every step forward I achieved in the world as a novice transgender woman was met by taking three steps back. Or when I thought I had conquered the world of high heels, I would catch my heel in a sidewalk crack and break it. Who knew you had to put so much work into being a girl and it was only the beginning. 

Along the way, my life became a battle between two genders and for the most part, the battle destroyed me. Especially, my already frail mental health since I was already diagnosed as being Bi-Polar, I did not need any other problems I never asked for. Regardless, life moved on as I tried to roll with the punches. I was cross dressing as much as I could while at the same time, I was trying to live a life as a successful man. I managed to stay married to the same woman for twenty -five years while at the same time making good progression in my employment career. Sadly, I was stubborn, and struggle was all I knew as I lived my life. If I would have ever relaxed and looked around, I would have seen much of my progress came from just running from my problems and not facing them. My wife said it best one day when we were locked in yet another brutal argument. She said, why did not I be man enough to be a woman. The logical answer to the question was, I simply was not ready and still had a lot to learn before I jumped the male gender ship and began to live as a transgender woman. 

Very soon, my struggles reached a critical tipping point where progress was becoming the norm. I was reaching the point where I could be man enough to be a woman out of sheer determination. Sadly, by this point, my wife had passed away, so she never had a chance to meet the woman I had become. Again, I needed to struggle through a new reality of being alone after all of those years. It did not take me long to turn to my feminine self for help. In fact, the last date I had set up with another woman as a man was to an outdoor concert. At the last minute, the woman backed out, so I did the next best thing and took myself. My feminine self-had a great time and I never tried to go out with a woman as a man again.

As I began to see and reach my potential as a transgender woman, my mental health improved as well as my life as a whole. When it did, my struggles went with it.

Gender Harmony

 

My friend Racquel and her dog.

When asked when I first realized I had issues with my gender I began to tell the truth and say I had known forever.

In fact, my statements were only partially true. I knew something was wrong with me, but I did not know exactly what. When I was young, I knew how much pleasure I received when I dressed as a girl. What I was lacking was the knowledge of how much harmony I was missing by learning the aspects of living in two genders.

Over a long space in time of nearly fifty years, my male and female selves battled it out, which naturally created huge disruptions in my life. My already frail mental health was in shambles most of the time. Since I had already been diagnosed as being bi-polar by a therapist before, my gender issues seemed to be a bigger problem. In reality, both issues were working together to make my life miserable before I took action and did something about it.

I started with the easier one, my bi-polar condition. After I tried several medications, I found the right ones which I am still taking to this day. The much more difficult of the two issues destroying my inner harmony was my issue with my gender. Had I listened to my first therapist years ago when she told me there was nothing, she could do with me wanting to be a woman, I would have been better off. Maybe I would have been able to relax more with my issues and realize my transition into transgender womanhood was going to be a scary yet exciting journey I should try to relax and enjoy. Rather than fight and destroy my mental health as I did it. Plus, what made matters worse was all the people around me I attempted to make miserable too. Leading my second wife to even consider telling me to be man enough to be a woman. The problem was, back in those days, I did not have the feminine experience yet to do it. So, my miserable life continued.  Any sort of gender harmony seemed to me an impossibility.

During that time, I really set out to seriously discover what measures I would have to take to restore any sort of harmony to my life. Which essentially saved my life after a failed suicide attempt. I found I had to discover harmony or face losing my life totally. 

Initially, I was obsessing on my feminine appearance over any other aspects of being a transgender woman until my trans friend Racquel told me I passed out of sheer will power. Deep down, I knew what she was talking about. I was not and never would be the most attractive woman in the room, unless I could afford the expensive facial femininization surgery. Which I couldn't. It did not matter anyhow, since I had already decided to move forward in the world with the best possible appearance I could put together. 

Long story short, I found my path to a new life and am very fortunate to live as a full-time transgender woman. Racquel went on to several appearance altering surgeries and moved away so I have not seen her for years. I owe her for the honesty she expressed to me concerning my coming out experience. As my wife said too, there was so much more to a woman than just looking like one. Finding harmony with myself, enabled me to find harmony with others. I made friends in my new life and moved on.

NOT for Entertainment Only

 

Image from Alice Alinari
on UnSplash

As I went along my path to transgender womanhood, I found the journey was never a choice and was not for entertainment only.

My journey did not begin that way. Similar to many of you, I started by exploring my mom's underwear drawer and wearing what would fit. All of that was seemingly innocent enough unless I was caught. Then there would undoubtedly be hell to pay, along with a trip to a psychiatrist. Later I would wonder if my mom ever knew because her underwear was stretched out, but she never approached me at all. 

It was all fun and games until it wasn't. Slowly, I learned wearing girls/women's clothes was not for entertainment only. I was becoming increasingly serious about it. For the first time in my life, I was obsessing over how I looked. How was my makeup and very limited access to a wardrobe appearing in the mirror. I even went as far as shaving my legs when I thought I could get away with it. In addition, I did my best to study the other girls around me. I did not know it then, but I probably was wearing makeup before a few of the girls I knew were allowed to do it. At the time when I could not seem to muster the same passion for building the model cars I had and painting them well, makeup was an entirely different challenge and one I could not resist doing my absolute best at doing well. With no help whatsoever. 

I found, for the first time in my life, I was completely serious about doing one thing and it was being a girl. Not just looking like one. It took me years to learn just gazing at my reflection cross dressed as a feminine person was just not enough. I needed more. My problem was early on was having the budget to do anything such as being able to afford having a nice wig. It was not until my college days until I could buy a long blond wig I cherished for years. Spending all the money on one specific fashion accessory proved my passion to look good was not for entertainment only. I was really serious.

Of course, then I really started to step up my gender game. When I was released from my military service, I began to seriously explore the world as the feminine trans woman I was destined to become. As I write about often, my journey was filled with ups and downs and my mental health suffered. Definitely not the way I thought it would be when I looked at myself dressed as a girl in the mirror early in my life. What I never had a chance to consider was I was not a transvestite or cross dresser at all. In fact, I was a transgender woman and needed to accept it. I was never in it for the entertainment and my life depended on a successful outcome. 

What I mean is, I needed to stop all the self-destructive behavior I was exhibiting as I sought to destroy everything successful, I had ever done. Along the way, I had tried to lose jobs, drink too much all the way to trying to kill myself with pills. Never realizing how much I had to live for if only I followed my transgender path far enough. 

I wonder now, if I had realized how difficult my journey would be and not be entertaining would I have ever undertaken it at all. I also realize now, I never had a choice, and my life would have been better had I realized it sooner. I would love to get back just a tiny portion of the stress and tension I lost during my life as I worried about my gender. Outside of a few therapists who tried to help me by telling me the truth about myself, I was on my own. My life was never for entertainment only as I followed a gender path full of turns and dead ends before I discovered my truth in my transgender womanhood. 

Breaking the Gender Chains

 

Image from Arlem Lambunsky
on UnSplash.

For years and years I blamed myself for my transgender issues. 

I did not have access to the proper information to know otherwise. I thought somehow I was addicted to seeing myself in the mirror as a femininized person. The chains of being a male person weighed heavily on me. It was not until much later in life that I had the chance to learn I was completely wrong and I had never really had the choice to attempt to break all the chains which were restricting my life. All of this occurred in the pre-internet years and it was not until I bought my first computer did I finally began to see there were others just like me who struggled the same way in life.

At approximately the same time, I began to meet more and more diverse individuals in the new LGBTQ community. Primarily, I learned the difference between cross dressers and transgender women and men. Those involved in pursuing a life in transgender womanhood were much more serious than the average cross dresser who was actively embracing how they appeared as a woman. I was able to meet several impossibly feminine transgender women who embraced being a woman, not just looking like one. At the time I was intimidated and wondered if I could ever make the jump myself. Plus, I knew before I attempted such a radical move, I had quite a bit of work to do on myself.

I became the mistress of excuses of why I could not break my gender chains and move forward into the great unknown. What would I do about the remnants of my male life and what if anything would I do about my sexuality among with other important parts of my life. One thing I knew for certain was my desire to live as a fulltime transgender woman was more than an addiction because the process felt so natural and affirming. The entire process was stressful and damaging to my mental health because I was firmly stuck between the two main binary genders.  I would have not wished the stress I was feeling on my biggest enemy and the worst part of it all was  how I needed to internalize my feelings to the world. 

Life was so black and white at the time. Half of the time I was in the darkness of being chained to the wall of my old male life as I daydreamed of the lighter times when I could explore again and again the times I had as a woman. 

Through new woman friends and a good therapist, I was able to break out of my old gender chains and live my dream. Proving time and time again I was living the life I was meant to live. In no way did I have any lasting attraction to just wearing woman's clothes. The clothes were just a larger indication of how I wanted to live my life and were an external view to the world  which enabled me to open gender doors which were previously closed to me. 

I could not believe after the chains were broken and the new doors were opened, how much brighter my world became. Somedays I wonder if the wait was worth it. 

Turning Your Gender Corner

 

Image from the JJ Hart Archives.

As I made my way towards coming out of my closet and living as a transgender woman, I found I had many corners to navigate.

At first the corners were easy to take on but then became progressively more difficult as I moved closer to my impossible dream of escaping my male life. Through out the fifty years I lived as a serious cross dresser, it seemed I spent too much time researching to see if a life as my authentic femininized self was even possible. What was I going to do about a disapproving group of family, friends and bosses. All corners I needed to see around and judge what was next. 

At times, a few of the corners were more frustrating than others. My primary example always is when I spent years thinking my appearance as a woman (trans or not) was the all important driving factor in how I lived. There was so much more to being a woman than just how I looked. Appearance did open or close many doors but it was only the start. Also, as the internet began to have an impact in my life, I started to research more and more about what the new transgender term was all about and how did it define me. Initially, I thought it did because when I went to transgender - cross dresser mixers I did not mix well with the transvestites and leaned towards the transsexuals in the groups. I was somewhere in between and it was evident to me I had many more corners to turn before I discovered where I wanted to be.

Looking back, during that time in my life, I was gender fluid but had no way to express it. 

As I did begin to aggressively pursue my gender path, I needed to put all the labels behind me and try to determine if my dreams were indeed reachable. Right or wrong, I began to slip out of the house when my wife was at work to live an entire whole new existence as a woman. To do so, there were many blind corners I needed to face, Perhaps the biggest one was when other women wanted to strike up a conversation with me. I found they would start innocently enough with a small compliment on a facet of my wardrobe such as ear-rings and move on from there. Fortunately, most of the conversations were innocent enough as most of the women just were curious about what I was doing in their world. After the first shock of having to communicate in a brand new world, I actually turned the corner and began to appreciate the attention I was getting. I never had that amount of attention from women in my male life. The roles were reversed because I was receiving little to no attention from any of the men I met.  

Even though sometimes we follow similar paths as transgender women and trans men, the gender curves and corners are vastly different. We all have spouses or girlfriends who provide various levels of support or push-back. Often the push-back leads to mental health stress all the way to suicide attempts. 

Through therapy, often turning the gender corners you face may be easier. I know in my case, a mixture of going out on my own to start a new life along with therapy to do away with the old one worked for me. 

Now, at my age of seventy-five, I have come to realize the gender corners I will have to face will always be there as I face the possibility of advanced elderly assisted living. It all seems just a part of the problems we face as transgender women and trans men. 

How Far will You Go?

Image from UnSplash.

I have always viewed my transgender journey as a series of upward steps. A few of the steps were short and easy to take, while others were the opposite. The steps seemed to be impossibly steep and dangerous to proceed. 

Early steps were thrilling and even exciting as I snuck behind my family's back to cross dress in front of the mirror. Even so, the risk of discovery was anything but easy because I was risking so much. In those days, discovery meant a trip to a therapist who knew nothing about gender issues and even worse being treated as if I was mentally ill. 

At that point, looking ahead, I probably knew deep down, things would not get any easier with my gender issues. But, time would tell. As I progressed during my life, it suddenly became obvious  my gender issues were not going to go away. In fact, they were only to become much more serious. Mainly because my male life was becoming so much more serious too. Once I made it through my military service, I settled in to raising my new, small family which I hoped somehow would make me more of a man, while deep down I knew it would never be the case. I wondered how far I would have to go to carve out a good life. 

Fortunately, I was able to even though the trip was difficult, I made it by deciding I would go as far as I needed to go to satisfy living as my feminine authentic self. Initially, I had several major hurdles to conquer. Such as, did I want major surgeries which were much rarer and expensive back in those days as well as how my sexuality would play out as my new self. 

Since I did not have any insurance to cover the surgeries, paying for them was out of the question so I moved on. Next was my sexuality. Since I had absolutely no experience in sexual time with men, I did not know how it would go. It turned out, I did not need to experience much time with me, I never had to move on from my sexuality with women. I was becoming a transgender lesbian. 

Of course, the further I progressed in my new world, the more I had to lose as far as family, friends and employment. I needed to prepare to lose it all if I needed to. I needed to determine if it all would be worth it. In my case, all the years of fear and struggle proved to be worth it. Thanks to my lesbian wife Liz, I was accepted for who I was. 

To arrive here, I did not have to go through extensive operations and change my sexuality. I have always thought gender was between the ears and not the legs so it did not matter to me. I guess it proves how diverse the transgender community is, if we allow it to be. None of the "I'm more trans than you" syndrome which is hurtful to us all. Especially now, in a political environment which is setting out to erase the trans population, we ALL need to be united and not divided behind a bunch of archaic labels, such as cross dresser and transsexual individuals. 

Regardless of the label, we all had to decide how far we want to go to satisfy our gender urges. Or sadly, how many risks did we want to take to change our life forever. It all proves how we never had a choice in who we are as transphobes seem to think we do. How far you go is entirely a personal decision which takes a lot of work and trial and error to accomplish. It' all depends how in depth you want to go. For example, the night I went out to see if I could meet and blend in with other single women on their own turf and survive. I did make it and knew I could never go back to the life I had before in the mirror. I wanted to go more in-depth. 

From then on, I needed the confidence to do it.

Happlily Ever After?

 

Image from Dave 
Goudreau on
UnSplash. 

When it comes to transgender women and trans men, is there ever a happy ending?

As we examine our lives , again and again, we inevitably encounter many pains as we make the transition from one gender to another. Most of us (including me) go through a period of time when we consider ourselves to be cross dressers or transvestites. We were in our own state of limbo, not knowing where we were going. I am amazed when anyone in the outside world thinks our life was so much easier and we were wearing the clothes of the opposite sex as some sort of a lark.

The fact remains, amidst the brief moments of gender euphoria in front of the mirror, we never actually had a choice when it came to our gender issues. In the case of many people such as me, my journey was very lonely and singular and I wondered if I could ever live happily ever after as a transgender woman. It seemed like the impossible dream and if I could ever arrive there, perhaps I could finally become happy. But happiness for me had always been fleeting. Probably because I had never seen much of happy in my family growing up. We were taught anything we did was never good enough. It carried over into my life as a novice transgender woman. 

No matter how attractive I thought I was, there always had to be more. I needed to be better as a trans woman. It turned out I did need to be better to survive in a new feminine world but getting there was a challenge when I went too far, too fast in the wrong direction. Primarily when I went over board in how I was dressing myself way too slutty and attracting the wrong attention to myself. It wasn't the type of validation I was seeking. It took me awhile to realize I could not make it to any semblance of happiness on the path I was on. 

I learned I never would have a chance to be happy in transgender womanhood, unless I began to change my ways and began to dress to blend in with the world. Once I did, I learned I had a whole new set of challenges I needed to face to be happy. Similar to many of you, I faced spousal issues as well as job, family and friends. I always considered changing my gender was a difficult task to take but I never knew all the nuances of making the change I would have to take. Being a woman, trans or not, was a very layered process and I would ever be happy if and when I ever arrived at my goal of living fulltime as my authentic self. 

Then there were the gender affirming hormones I decided to pursue. Before I could begin the meds, I needed permission from a doctor and a therapist to begin. Adding to the importance of the move but once I started the hormones, I knew I was in the right place and I would not turn back to my old unwanted male life.

Even with the HRT, happiness was still fleeting as I faced a wonderful new world. Most likely because there were still instances of public setbacks I still had to negotiate, which included times when my mind was playing gender tricks on me. I was still influenced by sixty years of living a male life and being conditioned to never be happy.

Now, at the age o seventy five, I know I certainly have fewer years ahead than behind me. Now I have to make a concerted effort to be happy. If I don't, it will be too late.

The Sixty Four Crayon Box

Image from Leisy Vidal on UnSplash

I view gender in light of all the recent attacks  on the transgender community from a certain political party here in Ohio not called the Democrats, as a big box of crayons. The whole shameful process just shows how little the Republicans care to know about the trans community,

Rather, if they like it or not, almost all humans fall on some sort of a gender spectrum. It seems, men have fewer crayons to pick from because of their innate insecurities concerning their own gender and or sexuality. Which is a whole separate subject.

I know when I began to color in my own life, I needed the big box of crayons because I did not fit the male mold I was in. Whatever the world thought of me, I needed more out of my life than a restricted male existence. Instead of viewing myself as the round peg being forced into the square hole, I started to see myself as a multi-colored individual with many new gender frontiers to explore. My journey was destined to take me far past the rather quick romance with all the pretty fashion, all the way into a in-depth dive into what a life as a transgender woman would be all about. As I was busy coloring my future, I found I needed different colors to enable me to express myself more completely.

Examples were plentiful. Such as when I looked the part of a woman, how was I ever going to communicate as one. I was so busy coloring, I needed a whole new box of crayons to keep up with my life I was attempting to balance between two genders. To further stereotype the whole process, I quit using all the drab and darker colors and began to use the lighter more vibrant ones as I lived more and more in a femininized world.

The more I went to diverse transgender mixers in nearby Columbus, Ohio, the more I learned about others who were coloring in their gender lives too. I was able observe everyone from those who had almost completed their new lives, all the way to those who were working with broken crayons and severely struggling. All of it was an extreme eye opener for me because I was so naïve when it came to the transgender or LGBTQ world as a whole. Normally what happened was, I took everything in and ended up going back home and thinking about it. A solitary pursuit since I did not have anyone to talk to about it except for the occasional therapist. 

Therapy produced mixed results when several I went to did not want to discuss or see my colored design of who I truly was. It wasn't until I sought out one of the rare gender therapists back then who told me the truth. Basically, she said my picture was beautiful and there was nothing I could do about wanting to proceed on my path to transgender womanhood. I wish I would have listened and started to change my life back then but I was stubborn and hung on to my part-time male existence which at the least, paid the bills. 

As transgender women and men, we really need the extra courage to keep coloring our pictures. For example, in my case, if my health holds up, I will be on gender affirming hormones the rest of my life. Hopefully, I will need another sixty four box of crayons as my life expands as a transgender woman.

 

What Would Mom Say

Image from Jenna Norman
on UnSplash

This week my question to answer on the year long bio I am writing for my daughter and family as well as my wife Liz involved what parent I learned the most from.  

As I compared my Mom and Dad, easily I learned the most from Mom. Outside of the usual circumstances, I found I could find many more opportunities to spotlight Mom's influence on me. For example, I remember at a very early age watching Mom put on her makeup. Being a product of the "greatest generation" she was not shy about dressing up. However, I don't think watching makeup being applied led me to being a transvestite or even a transgender woman really mattered. Somehow the gender issues I faced went much deeper. Perhaps as deep as the medication Mom took during her pregnancy (DES) which was offered to women at the time to prevent problem births.

It turned out, I was successfully delivered just before my parents had decided to give up after three still births and adopt a child. I think because of all of that, my Mom put an extra emphasis on raising me and my brother who came along two years later. So much so, I wonder now what would have happened if Mom would have realized she had a daughter rather than a son. In all fairness to her, the fifties during my youth had very little information on gender issues. When it was available, gender issues were known as mental illness. 

Throughout the years, I always mistakenly thought girls had all the benefits in life I always wanted. Girls were able to wear the pretty clothes I wanted, be gifted the dolls I wanted and even never had to worry about being drafted and serving in the military. Male privileges were not known to me in those days because I had not yet earned any. As a side note, once I did earn the benefits of being male, I learned some of them were automatic and I did not want them anyhow.

I have forever wondered what my life would have been with Mom had I been born a biological female. Being as similar personality wise as we were, we fought quite a bit as mother/pseudo son and I have to think it would have been worse as a daughter. Mom was very headstrong and I am sure we would have had battles over fashion styles in the 1960's as well as when I could begin using makeup. In fact, when I was sneaking around using her makeup, I was probably younger than I would have been had I been her actual daughter.  I am sure too, Mom would have tried to influence me into going to her college and joining her sorority. She would have done her best to push me down a certain path which was certainly going against my generation's rules at that time in history during the upheaval in the later 1960's.

By this time, you may be asking where was Dad during all of this. It was not like he was not an influence in my life but he was not as hands on as Mom was. He was long on providing and short on emotions which I struggled with for most of my life. One thing I remember most about him was how desperate I was to never disappoint him and since I rarely if ever heard a positive from him, I never knew what he really thought of my life. He was blessed with excellent health and outlived my Mom by ten years and I never came out to him before his death from Dementia.

I did try to come out to Mom but it was a dismal failure for both of us. Predictably, when I told her I wanted to be a woman, she offered up mental health counseling. The conversation took place just after I was finished with my military duty and was never mentioned again until her death fifty years later. I used to hold her thoughts against her and was quite bitter but I gradually mellowed with age and came to realize she was just a product of her generation. 

To honor all her sacrifices, I used her first name as my middle name when I legally changed my gender markers nearly ten years ago. Had I had the opportunity to be accepted as her daughter from the beginning, it would have been interesting how our lives would have intersected. Way past the pushback I would have received for wearing my skirts too short and wearing too much makeup when I was a teenager. I know what Mom would have said. You aren't leaving the house looking like that. Maybe I should have thought of that when I tried and failed to dress that way later in life.