Saving my Life

Image from the 
Jessie Hart Archives

I write often concerning my struggles with my frail mental health. Mainly because I want to help others. 

Much of my mental health battle was because of my struggle with gender dysphoria. After meeting in person with other transgender women and men, I have come to the conclusion dysphoria is on a spectrum. Similar to so many other human issues it can vary from person to person. Years ago, I was shocked at one of the transgender - cross dresser support meetings I attended back then and got into a discussion about gender dysphoria with the group's moderator about how she had never experienced any dysphoria at all. At first I wondered if we were speaking the same language and did she know what I was talking about at all .I never had the chance to find out because the meeting moved on.

Through it all, I knew I had suffered on the severe end of the dysphoria spectrum for as long as I could remember. The only way I could relieve the stress was to cross dress in my limited feminine makeup and wardrobe. The entire process turned to be a terrible problem because I would feel good for a couple of days after I cross dressed then crashed and burned into depression and worse yet, being mean to those around me. 

Finally, therapy entered my life and I learned several truths very quickly. The first of which was my first two therapists had little to no idea of what I was talking about when I brought up being a transvestite, as we were known back in those days. The second thing I learned was my first two therapists totally missed any idea of diagnosing me as being Bi-Polar. It took me going to a real live gender therapist to learn my bad highs and lows had little or nothing with my gender issues. They were totally separate and somehow, someway I would need to find away to deal with them on my own. Then when I was lucky enough to be assigned to a very good LGBTQ trained Veterans Association therapist for over ten years, she helped me to relieve any shame I still felt about wanting to be female. Which was huge.

Good therapy meant better mental health when I learned to actually listen and believe in what my therapist was telling me. In the past, I was too stubborn to do so and kept my feminine self firmly in the mirror, until I could not take it any longer. I simply had to try my best to enter the world as a novice transgender woman and see how I felt. Long story short, I felt great, natural and so excited to try out the world. 

The whole process, saved my life. My mental health stabilized to a point I did not need therapy anymore. Mainly because I became a believer in my dominant female self who was hidden away for far too long. There was no one to tell me I was a woman trying desperately to get by cross dressing in a male world. It would have been interesting to see if I had would have listened if they had. I was always very stubborn which helped me when I was being rejected as a novice transgender woman. Or when I was down, I just kept moving. On the other hand my stubborn attitude caused me to hang on to my male life way too long. 

One thing was for sure, conquering the severe part of my gender dysphoria did save my life. I am down now to fighting my mirror when I get up in the morning, which I can handle I stay grounded in the fact I am not as ugly as the man I used to be and not the prettiest woman in the room. I am just me and that will have to do.

Damn it is Complicated

 

Image from Amanda Dalbjorn
on UnSplash

Crossing the gender border is never easy for the average human being. 

To begin with, you need to be very serious concerning your gender passion. You need to trust your instincts, close your eyes and leap. I took over fifty years before I could come to the point of being able to trust myself. After all, I had spent all of the time as a very serious cross dresser exploring the world to see if I could survive as a transgender woman. Some times I was good about making plans, sometimes I was not. As I took the good with the bad. Ultimately, taking the good with the bad, just walking a path I knew very little about. 

As I walked my new path, there were several points of reference along the way. Such as the mixers I was attending in nearby Columbus, Ohio. Many were big and more than a couple were very small and intimate. Regardless I learned from both and how internally complicated they were. All layers under the so called transgender umbrella attended one or the other. Everyone from seasoned transsexuals to very novice cross dressers often out for the first time in their lives away from the mirror. Through it all, I was trying just to find my way to discovering who I really was. All I did finally learn was I did not fit the mold of a stereotypical transsexual or a weekend cross dresser. I was somewhere in between. I found I was not everyone's cup of tea, I enjoyed being my own. 

Examples were everywhere, including the guys who cross dressed for certain mixers but not for others all the way to the impossibly feminine transgender women who made their appearance. I was drawn to the feminized crowd but often I was left out because of my looks. I had a long way to go with my appearance but I was trying hard. With the help of a professional makeup artist provided by the group one night, I learned the intricacies of applying makeup and could really help me because he explained everything to me. Thanks to his magic, I was able to move up in the eyes of the transgender or transsexual crowd. Even still, mainly because they shunned most of the rest of the average cross dressers, I stayed to myself. Except when the trans women went out to other gay venues after the regular mixers were over. When I did so, I was exposed to a whole new world of exposure in the world in my own transgender universe. 

As I did, my life became increasingly complicated. I needed to overcome inner clashes with my genders as well as trying to deal with the problems of dealing with my second wife who was against any idea I was transgender. The major problem, every bit of my self was telling me being feminine was the only way I could survive. All of my turmoil just led to more stress to my already fragile mental health. I ended up in therapy again, which did some good but were for the most part wasted because I refused to face the truth about myself. My authentic self was feminine and I needed to express it. The only thing therapy did was make my wife think somehow it was going to magically "cure" me or at the least, I was trying to help the situation. Which at the time was growing into a major problem between us.

When I first looked into the mirror as a kid so many years ago, little did I know how complicated my life would become as I grew into my gender issues. My gender path was so convoluted as I followed it, I often became lost. The only aspect which kept me going was the deep down knowledge I had been born to be a girl. Dealing with it was always the issue.

It's All in the Eyes

Sad Eyes
Image from
the Archives.

Over the years, my eyes have helped me out in many ways.

Of course there is the obvious reason such as the blessing of eyesight but then, life steps in- very importantly for a cross dresser or transgender woman trying her best to improve her makeup art. For me at least, the hardest part of conquering the mystery of makeup  involved making up my eyes. At the time, I equated it with applying paint to the plastic model  cars I was fond of building because I struggled with both. Ironically, at the age I was at, I am fairly sure my Mom would have did her best to forbid any use of makeup at all by the daughter she never knew she had. 

Still I persisted and grew more proficient with buying then applying my eye makeup, The availability of all the colors fascinated me. Along with the chance to match colors up with my limited fashion choices I was capable of finding. It was close as I could come to all the girls around me who I admired so much. 

Fast forwarding many years, my eyes continued to be a focal point in my makeup art. I had learned along the way women communicate through the eyes in many ways. Much more than men who rely on vocal cues. I knew as I transitioned into transgender woman, I was on the right path with my makeup techniques. All the years I put into my art was worth it.

Perhaps the most rewarding feedback I received from my eyes came from my wife Liz. For all the wrong reasons. We met on line when she responded to a post I listed as woman seeking woman. Keep in mind I immediately pointed out I was a transgender woman. Thankfully, none of my gender issue mattered to Liz and she said she was attracted to me because I had sad eyes. If the truth be known, during that part of my life, I did have sad eyes. Over the past two or three years before the picture, I had just gone through very dark portions of my life. Primarily due to death of my second wife and four of my closest friends, mainly to cancer. Along with the loss of my business, I had lost nearly all the self confidence I had ever had in myself. In fact, the only concrete thing I had to grasp onto was my identity as a trans woman. 

Regardless of my sad eyes, my girl self became my deepest passion. In many ways, just to get by, I needed to become a deeper researcher of women. Instead of becoming my father's son which I had chased for many years, I became my mother's daughter she never wanted, to my knowledge. The gender guilt I felt was only grief with no where to go. 

Led by my eyes when I communicated with other women, I found my way out of the darkness of life I was in and regained my confidence. Even though it was a different confidence than I had ever felt before. My confidence as a transgender woman was a hard earned quality which went all the way back to the days when I was struggling with makeup and shaving my legs when I was a kid. Living and learning was always an exciting experience. Even in the days when I was a dismal failure in the world. Somehow, deep down, I knew I was doing the right thing by pursuing a life as a trans woman. 

It was always in the eyes, I just had to learn how to use mine. They were such an important part of my life when it came to communicating with other women. Perhaps it is true when it is said your eyes are the window to the soul.