A Line in the Sand

Image from Lance Asper
on UnSplash

 It has been over a decade now when I decided to finally draw a line in the sand and give up on my well-worn, unwanted male self.

I say well worn, because I had spent nearly sixty years trying my best to live up to the supposed ideals of the male gender. It was exhausting keeping up with all the testosterone driven male "club." Still, I persisted and managed to build a fairly successful life. Once I was successful and had built up my share of male privilege, it was difficult to want to give it all up.

The pressure of having the possibility to live my dream of transgender womanhood finally got the best of me after a very serious suicide attempt. Finally, I needed to draw the line in the sand and do the right thing. The thing I had worked all those years of being a cross dresser to do. Even still, I knew deep down what I needed to face and do. It was just because at times, the line appeared to me as deep as a canyon. It was scary trying my best to jump it and exactly what was on the other side. I was fortunate in that I was able to research deeply what a life would be like as a transgender woman. 

I did my best to live out the life I would expect to live if I transitioned from a cross dresser to transgender woman. Against all personal odds, I was able to find a whole new set of friends and acquaintances who accepted my authentic self. They in turn, taught me so much about being myself. What worked and what did not. For example, I did not want to be too loud or impulsive but on the other hand I could not be very introverted because I would be mistaken for being bitchy. For a while, it was touch and go in my learning process, until I felt confident. 

I compare the process to a gentle pleasant wind coming up and blowing away my line in the sand. Very soon, I could not see where it even was. When it happened, it made up for every male privilege I lost. Quickly I forgot how I felt when I was "mansplained" by a guy or how I felt when I made to feel I had lost part of my intelligence just because I was a woman. I just knew how important I felt when I had finally arrived on the other side of my line in the sand.

Old friends, and part of my family were gone but quickly I was able to replace them with new friends and another accepting family unit. In many ways, life was still terrifying but so much more exciting and satisfying. I should have never waited as long as I did to erase my line in the sand. No more thoughts of suicide and for once being able to be myself were just a couple of the benefits. 

A Spectator in my Own Life

 

Image from Ryan 
Mangino on UnSplash.

There were many times during my life as a transgender woman, I felt as if I was a spectator looking in on the action.

The whole process was very strange to say the least as I was thinking, just who was that person. Plus, having the chance to think what I was doing was a totally different sensation. The entire problem stemmed I think, from the earlier years of my life when I was positive, I was two different people all together. One male and one female. It was not until much later on when I began to realize I was always feminine and fought all things male when I could.

Slowly but surely, I began to realize the truth and began to notice my cross-dressing nights out involved much more than just attempting to look the best I could. My spectator began slowly to change away from watching a male life unfold to watching a female one do the same. Helping me were the girls-night-out invitations I received. Following a bout of impostor's syndrome, I suffered through, I settled down and enjoyed myself. When I came to the conclusion I had just as much right there as the next woman. We had all came to our right of womanhood through different paths and mine was just different.

Finally, I grew tired of just being a spectator in my feminine life and wanted more. More meant being a spectator in my male life. Since I was still working and living part-time as a man, it meant I really needed to concentrate on my speech and movements when I was still a guy. In fact, there were a couple of embarrassing times when I was called Ma'am at work when I was in male mode. 

Early on, being a spectator in my own life was certainly a curiosity. Especially, when I thought I was just a cross dresser and putting on a dress was just a hobby. The closer I moved to true transgender womanhood, the more I learned that was not true. As I always say, the key moment in my life came when I realized I was not a man cross dressing as a woman, I was a woman cross dressing as a man. The tragic part was I went through male puberty and was testosterone poisoned as I grew up. I did not appreciate when my soft body turned to hardened angles as well as the other male changes but there was nothing I could do.

When I found my gender destination, I stopped being a spectator and began to be a more involved participant. For me, flipping my gender became an intensely frightening but natural part of my life. Living my dream was so dominant in my thought pattern, I had no problem with girls-nights-out and even could not wait for them. My newfound confidence as a woman completely pushed any idea of me being a spectator aside and opened the door for me to be a more well-rounded participant. Of course, confidence always grows more confidence, and I grew to the point where I had nothing else to prove to the other women I was around.

As I look back, being a spectator in my own life as sometimes a necessary but very different part of my existence. The entire process sometimes helped me to understand where I was going towards my dream of transgender womanhood.  

No Struggle no Progress

 

Image from UnSplash.

Basically, when it comes to doing anything really important in life, to progress you need to struggle.

As far as being transgender, often it seems our struggles are impacted. First of all, most of us are not blessed with any natural feminine characteristics to work with. At least, I did not think I had any except perhaps my legs which often ruined my fashion sense when I tried to focus on my legs and not try to cover up my wide torso and broad shoulders. I struggled with my overall image until I got it right and I began to blend in with the public at large. 

Far more important to me was the mental struggle which went along with my journey to transgender womanhood. For the longest time, it seemed as if every step forward I achieved in the world as a novice transgender woman was met by taking three steps back. Or when I thought I had conquered the world of high heels, I would catch my heel in a sidewalk crack and break it. Who knew you had to put so much work into being a girl and it was only the beginning. 

Along the way, my life became a battle between two genders and for the most part, the battle destroyed me. Especially, my already frail mental health since I was already diagnosed as being Bi-Polar, I did not need any other problems I never asked for. Regardless, life moved on as I tried to roll with the punches. I was cross dressing as much as I could while at the same time, I was trying to live a life as a successful man. I managed to stay married to the same woman for twenty -five years while at the same time making good progression in my employment career. Sadly, I was stubborn, and struggle was all I knew as I lived my life. If I would have ever relaxed and looked around, I would have seen much of my progress came from just running from my problems and not facing them. My wife said it best one day when we were locked in yet another brutal argument. She said, why did not I be man enough to be a woman. The logical answer to the question was, I simply was not ready and still had a lot to learn before I jumped the male gender ship and began to live as a transgender woman. 

Very soon, my struggles reached a critical tipping point where progress was becoming the norm. I was reaching the point where I could be man enough to be a woman out of sheer determination. Sadly, by this point, my wife had passed away, so she never had a chance to meet the woman I had become. Again, I needed to struggle through a new reality of being alone after all of those years. It did not take me long to turn to my feminine self for help. In fact, the last date I had set up with another woman as a man was to an outdoor concert. At the last minute, the woman backed out, so I did the next best thing and took myself. My feminine self-had a great time and I never tried to go out with a woman as a man again.

As I began to see and reach my potential as a transgender woman, my mental health improved as well as my life as a whole. When it did, my struggles went with it.