I Just Could not Do It

 

JJ Hart. Club Diversity, Columbus, Ohio.

Every once in a while, I see a guy, or a group of guys doing routine guy things and become rather envious of them.

I remember how hard I worked to arrive at a point of being a man to just fit in and think how easy it was for me to participate after I earned my white male privileges. Then, when my gender issues caught up to me, I needed to give all my male privilege up and make the sacrifice to lead a happy life as a transgender woman.

About that time, when I am observing the men, I talked about, I remember how miserable I was just playing the old repetitive male game I was stuck in, and I feel much better. Even to the point of feeling free. Perhaps, it is because I never should have forced myself to play the male games to start with. Being born into a male dominated family as the first son, locked me into serious expectations of who I was expected to be at all times and there could be hell to pay if I was not. Regardless of the pressure I put myself under, I did my best to succeed while all the time suspecting something was wrong with how I perceived my inner gender. 

I don't know what I thought about how I could live my life the way I was doing it, but somehow, I made it to the age of sixty before I could not take it anymore, and I transitioned into my version of transgender womanhood. I say my version, because I decided I did not need any serious gender realignment major surgeries to live life the way I wanted to. I basically took all the experience I had learned as a very serious cross dresser and decided I could live full time in a new and exciting world.

Before I paint myself out to be some sort of a courageous person, I wasn't. Destiny had led me through many bouts of self-destruction to be able to live to a point where I was healthy enough to begin gender affirming hormones and femininize my body. Inside and out, it all was quite the change. As excited as I was to experience all the changes, the fact was not lost on me that I was nearly old enough to retire early and start Social Security which took me away from any negative ideas about transitioning on a job. Old or new. 

All of a sudden, almost all of my major hurdles to transitioning were taken away, even to the point of the Veterans Administration approving HRT for its health care members. So, at the least, I would have to pay less for my femininizing meds. Even though, they were not free. 

One night, when I was again feeling sorry for myself because of my lifelong gender issues, I finally came to the conclusion I did not have to do it anymore. I was sure of the fact I did not want to live as a man any longer and had paid nearly all my dues not to do it anymore. 

Regardless of any remaining envy I felt as how easy it was for me to enjoy any male privileges I had gained over the years; it was not enough to keep going as a man. I just could not do it and survive. 

The Darkness

 

Transvestia Magazine 1960.

The darkness in my transgender closet was intense and complete. I had no windows or doors to let any light in at all.

One of the problems I had was I lived in the pre-internet era when there was little to none gender information to learn from. I needed to wait for my monthly issue of "Virginia Prince's" Transvestia Magazine for so called heterosexual cross dressers only to learn there were others like me struggling with gender issues in the world at all. Even with the brief glimpse into the lives of others, I had very little of light in my dark lonely closet. I was very far away from knowing there was absolutely nothing wrong with being me. 

With guidance from the back pages of Transvestia, I managed to gather the confidence to attend a relatively close by mixer, blending cross dressers of every sort (or transvestites as they were known back then) with transsexuals. Remember, the transgender term was not used at the time. At the time, I was very naive and thought going to a mixer or two would help me out of my gender closet.  I was wrong and all I learned was I needed to go back to my dark closet until I learned more concerning others who might share gender issues with. 

What I did learn was there was no easy way to fit in with the transvestite community. I was too much of a woman for the parttime cross dressers and not enough to fit in with the transsexuals I met who were waiting for gender realignment surgery. Deep down I knew, I was not prepared for the surgeries needed to change my genitals and gender was not between my legs for me anyhow. It was between the ears in my brain. All the process did at the time was enable me to look for a brighter light in my closet. 

Sometimes I believe that unless you have experienced a dark closet yourself, it is impossible to explain to a person who never had to go through it. I know also, there are many of you who read the blog are hopelessly stuck in your own closets. Especially, with an increasingly politically charged anti-transgender world around us. Hopefully, you live in an area which is more liberal and welcoming to those with gender issues. 

I write often about how my life slowly changed through several transitions as I deluded myself as to who I really was. I internalized my true gender for nearly fifty years. Early on, I told myself I was a man cross dressing as a woman, when the opposite was true. I was a woman cross dressing as a man the best I could. At the same time, I was nearing one of the most important transitions of my life, when I began to think of myself as a transgender woman and not a cross dresser. It was only at that point, when the darkness began to lift from my life, and I could live again. 

Hopefully, your gender life as a cross dresser or transgender person is not ruled by darkness and the light at the end of the tunnel you see is not the train.

Building Gender Bridges

 

Image from Alexander Rotker 
on UnSplash.

I have always been one to build too many bridges to jump off of in my life. 

In fact, if I don't have anything to worry about, I will create something. Looking back, I was especially bad at building huge, tall bridges when I was at the height of my trip to transgender womanhood. I felt I was partially justified in doing so because of all the problems I experienced when I was coming out of my gender closet. 

Before I began my trip, I was a fairly freewheeling person. If something happened for me to take care of, I would and at the same time, not spend much time worrying about my future. Even though I still faced major problems in my life, I could still conquer them, or escape back behind my skirts, heels and hose to hide. As I progressed in my life, I found my time was running out as a parttime cross dresser. Either I needed to do more or purge myself altogether of a pastime which had kept me from jumping off so many bridges I had built. 

Another problem I discovered was when I began to be more skilled at building my gender bridges was becoming, I was increasingly under more pressure to be successful. The more success I felt as a transgender woman, the easier my life became except for the very serious bridges I faced such as communication with the world. 

The best time I have for building my bridges is late at night when I am trying to sleep. These days, I have plenty of things to worry about. In fact, next week, my wife Liz and I will be heading north to my daughters, mother in laws lunch. During that time, I hope to find out what has happened to my transgender grandchild job offer as a civilian nuclear engineer with the Navy in Maine. Hopefully they have been able to stay under the radar so far and has maintained the job which they wanted to start this fall. (They is their preferred pronoun.)

Going to see the family is always very affirming as I have been accepted for years as my authentic feminine self. Early on it was very difficult for me to adjust to because nearly everyone in the room had known me for years as my old male self. Others including my first wife, who is the mother of my only child usually always attends, and she has a difficult time sometimes not referring to me with the proper pronouns when recounting a few of the long-ago days when I was trying to live as a macho man. Plus, we also met each other while we both served in the Army in Germany. With all the extra baggage I carry when it comes to her, I think she has done a good job of building a new bridge to me over the years.

Now, at my advanced age of seventy-five, I find myself looking ahead at the biggest bridge of all. When it is time to enter a new reality when I pass on. I have decided to do the best I can with all the aches and pains I have and keep a positive attitude. Of course, there are other major bridges to think about also when and if I need to enter assisted living, which I am not looking forward to. Liz and I were supposed to attend a special seminar put on by an attorney specializing in "elder law", but Liz got sick, and we did not go. So sometime in my future, I need to insist we find an attorney to give us a consultation. 

In life, it seems, there are always bridges to build. It is just a special problem unique to gender conflicted transgender women and trans men. Overtime, we can become very good builders and even better at hiding our results. Fortunately, there are more and more trained therapists to help us these days. Ironically, some of us have to go through several therapists until we can find the proper fit. So, we can find someone who can build a solid bridge, rather than tear it all down. Which, if you are like me, you tried to do many times during various purges.