Time Marches On.

As I was talking to my therapist yesterday, and brought up how quickly the Trans Ohio Symposium was approaching, I said it seems like it was only yesterday when I applied for my workshop.

She asked if Liz (my partner) was going again and I said most certainly. She even takes a couple extra days off around the week-end and makes it a mini vacation. Then she asked me what my workshop would entail.  As I have pointed out here in Cyrsti's Condo, I plan on speaking on "survivor" mechanisms for transgender women and trans men as we make our way through life. Such as cross dressing.

Oldest known picture.

I also plan to attack the "I'm more trans than you fallacy" as well as levels of transition.

Now though, after my latest support meeting, I'm thinking of adding "hitting walls" into my workshop. After, the so called self appointed "social director" of the group was not her usually "bubbly"self. Personally, I think she has hit a wall. She is just starting HRT (hormone replacement therapy) has divorced her wife and spends nearly every night out with a close knit group of trans women and/or cross dressers. As I have often said,  sooner more than later, we all find out that being transgender women is more like being cis women in the world. All the pretty clothes can't make you happy all of the time. Life goes on, and yes sometimes it does become rather mundane.

Plus, after you climb one wall, you have to rest and decide when and if you are going to climb the next one. Which invariably could lead you to genital realignment surgery, if you desire it enough. Even SRS though, seemingly hasn't satisfied some of the trans women I have known over the years.

I just may be adding "walls" to my workshop! 

Back Home Again

Well, a couple of my busy days have come and gone now. Both trips to the Dayton, Ohio VA Hospital. Which is a two hundred mile round trip.

Both concluded with some bits of good news. First and foremost, my old car made the trips without incident (knock on my wooden head), and second, my blood iron levels were in line and I didn't have to subject myself to my least fave clinician to get abused again. Verbally by mis pronouning me, and or screwing up the whole process of getting my blood to come out. I hold her responsible, because the others I have had there have been so good.

Today, my visit to the therapist was less than normal time wise, because she was getting sick. So, we mainly talked about my decision to "volunteer" to do more outreach work with the transgender - cross dresser support group I am a member of here in Cincinnati. I was feeling a small amount of guilt because since I am retired, I could go in the daytime and help out. I had to laugh a bit when she asked if volunteering was a good idea for me. I have questioned it quite a bit too but have come to the conclusion, why not?

I most certainly don't have a problem with talking to groups and already have an outline of presentations I have used for my Trans Ohio Symposium workshops, and others.

My therapist is even thinking about going to the "providers" day presentations at Trans Ohio this year.

As far as what I wore, the only major change was the last couple of days, I wore my hair tied back. Which turned out to be a good move since it turned out to be very windy and warm one of the days.

So all is good!

Alone on an Island

On the rare occasions anymore when I get the question on how it is to be transgender, I reply, it used to be like being alone on an island.

Back in the day, in the pre internet dark ages, it was really the case. I know I felt so alone. I just had to be the only boy ever who wanted to cross dress and be a girl. Slowly but surely though, I found out other boys wanted to be Shirley too. When I discovered Virginia Prince (right) and the term transvestite.

One of the first "facts" I discovered was most transvestites were not gay. Much to my relief at the time. Little did I know, I was just not having sexuality issues, just gender ones.

At any rate, as soon as I could... when I got out of the Army, I paid for a subscription to "Transvestia Magazine." From the magazine I learned of an actual chapter within driving distance of me in Cleveland, Ohio. From there, I set out to actually meet other inhabitants of my island which I discovered wasn't so uninhabited after all. Plus I learned not all were so called heterosexuals either.

From the group in the days before transgender was even a popular term, I discovered there was a real cross section of inhabitants on my island. I met everyone from cross dressing bitches to guys in dresses smoking cigars. But most intriguing to me were the very few participants who just seemed so feminine and natural. It seemed, they had found their true calling in life as women. I often wondered at the time if I could (or would) ever be able to explore such a path.

The more I did explore, the more I found my little island wasn't so little anymore, and was full of very interesting critters.

Along the way, the search led me to more than a few twists and turns. Plus life turned out to be exceedingly difficult at times, but never boring. I came to like my island!