Never a Choice

 

Image from Mika
Baumeister on UnSplash

After all these years I still receive the comment of why I chose to leave my male gender behind and pursue transgender womanhood. 

Ironically, very few people removed from the transgender umbrella understand I never had a choice and spent nearly fifty years figuring it all out. Sure, there were brief moments of gender clarity which somehow, I refused to recognize. Then, as the years rolled by, I kept accumulating male baggage which became more and more difficult to consider leaving behind. Examples would be family, friends and jobs which being masculine depended on success. I was caught between having success as a male in a world I never really wanted. For the longest time, every time I was successful at something as a man, I fantasized if I could do it as a transgender woman. A stop gap measure which in the end just caused me more frustration. 

Plus, eventually, frustration turned into more gender pressure. The whole process turned me into a very self-destructive person. Along the way, I tried to tear down all the male successes I had built up. I drank too much, drove too recklessly and even tried suicide as a final solution to my gender pain. Finally, before it was too late, I realized my error. I never had a gender choice and attempting to live even a partial life as a male was a waste of time.

To make matters worse, I was very stubborn, and I attempted to hang on as long as I could in my transgender world by trying to live partially in both worlds, male and female. Slowly but surely, I discovered I could not continue to live that way. The more I learned about living as a trans woman, the more feasible a complete transition became to me. The whole process took me back to my earliest days cross dressed in front of a mirror at home when I realized I wanted to do so much more than just look feminine. I wanted to be feminine but my upbringing in a male dominated family was throwing up all sorts of roadblocks for my future. So, I learned what most men learn. To internalize my feelings the best I could. Which would lead me too much more serious problems later on in life.

The biggest problem was I was fighting the gender battle of my life. Regardless of what my male self was telling me about maintaining the status quo, sooner more than later I would have to face reality and know my gender was never a choice. I could not rest and enjoy my life until I finally made the ultimate decision. 

One lonely night as I was again pondering my future at the age of sixty, I weighed the benefits of both of the genders I was trying to maintain. In a blinding moment of clarity, I gave up forever any rights I ever had to a male life. 

It was the best decision I had ever made in my life. All of a sudden, this huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. From that point forward I decided to pursue gender affirming hormones and give all my male clothes away. Most importantly, I faced up to the fact I had never been a male except biologically which had nothing to do with my brain. I followed my brain and never looked back. '

Without the gender monkey on my back, I had a chance to live my life my way. The way I never had a choice of and took too long to realize it. 

Survival versus Impostor Syndrome

Conch Shells

 Many times, during my journey into transgender womanhood, I have experienced my fair share of impostor syndrome when I was able to slip in behind the gender curtain.

Most of the time, my fight with impostor syndrome happened early in life when I was first coming out. It was so unfair when I had spent so much time and effort to perfect my feminine presentation, only to be rejected by my own thoughts. The syndrome was especially strong when I was invited to girl's night's outs or used the women's room. 

On our recent vacation trip, I am happy to say, I think the old curse of impostor syndrome went totally away. Since the trip in reality had very few men in relation to women, many times when we ate meals, we ate with other women. I knew I had it made when others asked if we were sisters. Sadly, the overall physical stress of the trip began to take its toll on me. The sicker and weaker I became, the only thing I was trying to do was make it home in one piece. No matter how hard I tried, Covid was stronger and ended up putting me in a hospital in suburban Atlanta for several days, until I could regain my strength and travel again. I have written before how my daughter had to drive down from Ohio to rescue us when there were no rental cars available. 

Again, survival became the priority over worrying about petty issues about what rest room I was going to use. The only time I wavered in deciding what rest room I was going to use was when we stopped at a little seafood place in Florida around the Everglades. There were only two restrooms to use, clearly marked male and female, so the line to the women's room was very long. After a short time, a few brave women began to go ahead and use the men's room, not unlike you are able to see if you go to any major sporting events. I thought long and hard about going ahead and using the male side but ultimately decided it would be a bad idea. Since I did not have to go that bad and did not want to destroy my perfect restroom record which has gone back over a decade, I decided to wait and use the women's room. 

As we waited for our boat tour of the Everglades, we had lunch, and I was able to order a first for me, Conch Fritters. So, I was able to cross another item off my personal bucket list. During lunch, we found a seat at a table with a couple and a very gruff man wearing an Army hat. He did not seem to want to talk much to me and even though I very badly wanted to ask him where he served, I did not. In some ways, impostor syndrome had set in. 

Of course, in the hospital, as I have written about before, pure survival on my part had set in.  All I wanted was to feel better and be discharged. There was no time to be worried about any sort of impostor syndrome at all. In fact, the whole deal I went through made my ancient worries about fitting in seem very petty in comparison. 

So petty, I wonder if I was ever the same person who was so completely into obsessing on my feminine appearance. Perhaps I needed that time in my life to grow into the transgender woman I am today. I was not aware there were going to be multiple transitions as I grew into my authentic self. Being a functional woman meant so much more than just looking like one. There were factors such as developing communication and personality skills also.

Coming Out Day

 

Key Largo Boat Trip

Recently, I have written several times how my daughter rose to the occasion and drove the six plus hours to Atlanta from Ohio to rescue my wife Liz and I when we were stuck after I landed in the hospital and could not finish our bus trip back.

Our plight became increasingly desperate after there were no rental cars available for us to rent for the trip back. 

This is not the first time I have needed to turn to my daughter for help in my life. First and foremost was the time I came out to her as my authentic transgender self. To my surprise, instead of rejecting me, she simply said why was she the last to know. When in fact, she was one of the first family members I had ever tried to explain who I truly was to. She was under the impression her mother, who was/is my first wife knew I was trans. When in fact her mom knew all along, I was a cross dresser but never knew I wanted to pursue our gender issues any further. The only other person my daughter was referring to was my second wife or her stepmother who always rejected any idea of her living with another woman if I transitioned. So, I needed to explain to my kid, she really was the first.

I remember the coming out day so long ago like it was yesterday. Naturally, I was petrified yet secretly excited to tell another person my deepest, darkest secret. I was leading a hidden life all along and never wanted to be male at all. 

Once I blurted out my transgender truth, I felt immediately better. Especially so after I learned of my daughter's enthusiastic and unqualified acceptance of me. She immediately made plans to go shopping with me, which I rejected and then made an appointment for me at her upscale beauty spa for a hair makeover for my birthday. To this day, the appointment she made was one of the most life changing feminine experiences I have ever gone through. Very quickly I learned why cis women everywhere cherish their time with their beauty stylist. 

Now, as my daughter is coming close to finish raising three wonderful kids (including one who is transgender) it seems she is now shifting to care giver mode with several elderly extended family members. Including me of course. I am so fortunate to have Liz to help me also to take most all of the possible burden off of my daughter. 

In the meantime, I can't say enough about how much I appreciate all the help she has given me. I consider myself a very independent person and being a senior transgender woman has put added pressures into my life. This latest bout I fought with Covid has brought me into an increased focus of what is important in my life. My health and the people around me.