Master of Myself

Transgender Flag from Lena Balk
on UnSplash. 

Or would have it been proper to say, Mistress of myself?

Probably so, as one way or another, I really struggled to arrive at where I needed to be to achieve my goal of transgender womanhood. Often, I write about how many nights when I came home in tears following being laughed at by an unfeeling public. Looking back now, I have a difficult time wondering what kept me going along my gender path. 

I suppose the little flashes of gender euphoria I experienced kept me going. Such as when I was accepted in malls and clothing stores before I realized all the clerks were seeing was my money, not my gender. Before long, the more experience I put behind me as a cross dresser or novice transgender woman, slowly the path was smoother and the happier I was becoming.

Then there were the small mixers I went to in nearby Columbus, Ohio. When I attended, I was able to see and meet all levels of the LGBTQ community. From admirers to transsexuals to lesbians, they all were there. It was one of the mixers where I was cornered by a much larger crossdresser admirer who was trying to take advantage of me and could have until I was rescued by my second wife. It was also there when I had my first encounter with a curious lesbian, and we left the mixer to visit a bigger lesbian bar. At that point, I was still heavily questioning which way my life would go. What kind of a path was I on and did I control it at all. 

In order to gain control, the only thing I could do was try to gain more and more experience as a transgender woman to learn if I was headed in the right direction with my life. So much was at stake and the pressure was on to make the right decision. In the meantime, I continued to follow my path and learn if I could indeed flip my gender script and attempt to be truly happy for the first time in my life. Perhaps, discovering the truth about myself, would finally provide me the missing link I was seeking. Of course, just dressing to appear as a woman did not solve the problem. As I gained confidence in the world, the world wanted to know more about me. The whole process opened up a whole new range of life opportunities. Such as how was I going to learn to communicate as a woman, all the way to adjusting to a whole new world of passive aggressive women. 

Again, it took a while for me to regain control of my life. Of course, attempting to change genders into my authentic self was a seismic shift in my life. On one hand, my authentic self-felt so natural but on the other, the entire process was so scary. So, I took my time before I started taking gender affirming hormones, so I burned all my gender bridges behind me. Looking back now, I wish I had done it all sooner and taken better control of my life.

I did not however and ended up not transitioning until I was in my sixties. Once I did, there was no looking back and I became the mistress of myself. Finally.  

 

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.