Transgender Guilt

Image from Civil War Cemetery
Cincinnati, Ohio.

 For many years I felt guilty about having my gender issues.

After all, I felt so alone in my desire to leave my male self behind and live in a feminine world. Not only was I alone, I even was scorned when I tried to express my desires. As I grew through the stages of being a weekend cross dresser into a novice transgender woman, I waited for the guilt to go away or at the least diminish. It never did. In fact, my guilt increased. 

Factors arose such as what would I tell my daughter and my wife, all the way to how I would manage to support myself and my family when it seemed I could lose everything if I transitioned. Selling my life out to be a woman seemed at times to be such a selfish idea and I felt guilty. So much guilt, it stressed me out so badly it wrecked my already fragile mental health. I would not have wished my gender problems on my worst enemy and even a bigger problem I had was there were few people I could even talk to about it. 

Sure, I had a therapist, but even then I felt guilty of sacrificing my masculinity and talking about my inner feelings. I had a gender storm inside me I could not get out and I was stuck between a cruel rock and a hard place. The reason was I was trying to live in both of the main binary gender worlds. For three days, I was learning if I could exist in a feminine world and in the next three days I had to go back to my boring male world. On the extra day, sometimes I lived in both genders, at least in my head. Of course doing all of this did nothing to relieve the guilt I felt on how I was living my life.

The more I lived my life between the genders, the more I could see what was coming. I was lying to myself when I tried to tell myself my inner woman was winning the contest for my soul. When I was spending my three days experiencing life as a trans woman, I felt more alive and excited about my future than even before. At the same time, I still felt the doubt creeping in about if I could make it at all. Perhaps freedom from guilt was on the horizon if I could just make it. So, I kept trying different things to enhance my future.

As I always point out, my male self pulled out all the stops and threw in guilt as one of the main weapons to keep the status quo he always fought for. As he fought, he made sure he brought up all of the fond memories of the time we spent together. 

Finally, his efforts proved to be to no avail as I started to put together a new life as a transgender woman. It turned out he could not compete with my truth, I had always been destined to be feminine. It was an unfair fight, guilt or no guilt. I could take the battle no longer and gave in before the stress literally killed me. I will forever remember the night when I gave in to my feminine side and decided to research if I was healthy enough at the age of sixty to undergo gender affirming hormone therapy. Which would signal a point to me which I could never to back to life as a man. 

From that point forward, I was able to give the remainder of my male clothes away along with the guilt they carried with them. I moved forward to legally changing my name and all the identification documents which could be be legally done in my state and with the Veteran's Administration. I was doing my best to put all the transgender guilt as far as I could into my rear view mirror. 

Doing it With Mirrors

Image from Paulious
Dragiunous on 
UnSplash.

For a time, I thought my entire female life revolved around my interaction with mirrors. 

In many ways, it did as I could not wait until I could slip away from my family and spend time cross dressed as a girl in front of the mirror. I even had a special mirror I was very fond of. It seemed my Dad was thinking of me when he designed the house he built for us to live in. He laid out the house with a long hallway connecting the bedrooms and a bath and finished it off with a full length mirror. The mirror and the distance it provided gave me precious space to admire myself in the mirror as my femininized self.

The only problems I experienced were I had no feedback from the mirror and would not until I experienced the world as my novice feminine self. So, good or bad, I could convince myself I looked great when in fact I had so much work to do to achieve my goal of passing well in public. Even though I was still barely getting by in the public, I still relied on mirrors to get me by and reassure my mind I belonged. What I did was look for the nearest mirror in clothing stores to see how I looked. It turned to be a singular approach to presenting well with the world. 

There were times when I took my mirror worship to the extreme in stores, one in particular comes to mind. There was a coat discount store I was fond of going to since they had coats which came in my larger size. During my shopping trips I fell in love with a pale blue, wool mix, long coat which I thought looked great with my long blond hair. I so loved admiring myself in the store mirror so much, I thought someone would come up and tell me to buy it or leave. While it never happened, sadly, there was no way I could afford it and end up smuggling it into the house away from my wife. So I needed to leave my dream coat behind. 

It took me years to quit doing it with mirrors and begin to live my truth. It was still a struggle to leave my best friend behind. I had subconsciously trained myself to look for the nearest mirror to fall back on to to reassure myself I was an attractive transgender woman. It was a real struggle to rely on myself for a change without the mirror. All of a sudden, the public became my mirror and it was very difficult to adjust to because not all interactions were positive. I needed the confidence to look a transphobic individual in the eye and win the moment. At the least, the transphobe would have to walk away from the interaction thinking they had actually met a transgender woman and we were not so bad. 

The process of interacting with the public over time became automatic and my only interaction with the mirror became my morning check in or when I am applying makeup for a trip out. Ironically, now the mirror is not always my friend anymore. Now I still have to battle what is left of my gender dysphoria when I look in the mirror. Sometimes I see my old male self peeking through which I hate but others times I see a much more pleasant femininized version of my old self. When my old male self weighs in too heavily on me, now I have developed the coping skills to get by and put him back into his place.

Never, in my wildest dreams, did I think mirrors would play such an important part of my life. From the earliest days of cross dressing to my current days of dealing with gender dysphoria, mirrors have allowed me to survive.      

Kissing as a Contact Sport

Image from Brian Kyed 
on UnSplash

As a transgender woman, I have been at the crossroad many times of to kiss or not to kiss.

Before I proceed, I need to point out, all of this happened before I moved in over ten years ago with my wife Liz here in Cincinnati. 

The first time I was almost kissed as a woman was when I was entrapped by a much bigger than me trans admirer at a small party my second wife and I attended in nearby Columbus, Ohio. He cornered me in a small hallway and for the first time in my life I felt powerless to fend off another human being. Before he came in for a kiss, or so much more, I was rescued by my wife who told me not to wear such a leg revealing dress anyway with my long blond wig. Of course I did not listen and paid the price later on the way home.

Along the way, as I transitioned, I did kiss a few men, mainly to see what it was like. I was attempting to see if my sexuality was going to change with my gender or not. The interactions were few and included two date nights in the regular venues I went to plus another with a guy I met in a coffee shop. The dates ended up being one time affairs which was sad because I had a good time being validated as a woman by a guy but the coffee shop guy turned out to be multiple meetings before we went to his house. We did kiss passionately before he let it slip out he was married. When he did, I slipped out the front door, never to return. 

The only other man I had a crush on and wished he had kissed me was the big burly, motorcycle rider I befriended after his very short lived marriage to a woman I knew briefly. It turned out I was the only one in the group who didn't disown him and we became friends. But not good enough to be asked to ride on the back of his bike or be kissed. Very soon after I got to know him, he transferred jobs and I never saw him again.

From then on, it was back to kissing women for me. During the lesbian mixers I went to, I was kissed by several women I did not know and I was flattered. Along the way also, I did sneak a kiss in with my two party women friends and one was very sweet. Again, sadly a future relationship with all its complications was not to be and we both moved on but still stay in touch to this day.

All in all, kissing a man turned out to be a duty for me. Something which should be done in return for validating me as a woman. But the overall thrill or charge wasn't there to enable me to want to change my overall sexuality. Plus, I did learn how frustrating it could be to be wanted and not the person who was the pursuer. I found the other gender grass was not always greener, especially when I was basically trapped by a person much larger and stronger than me. 

It was all a lifetime learning experience of learning the ins and outs of kissing another person from both sides of the gender border. I learned my preference was always kissing a woman. As a woman. Especially when gender affirming hormones' gifted me with my own set of breasts to enjoy. Kissing as a contact sport became more fun.