Gender Trauma or Dysphoria?

 

Image from Dominic
Swain on UnSplash.

When you spend a life dealing with gender dysphoria, often, gender trauma comes along with it. Interestingly, I have encountered some in the transgender community who claimed they had no dysphoria at all.

One of those encounters I had, happened one night at a transgender-cross dresser support group I was attending. I mentioned my struggles with gender dysphoria and the moderator stuck her nose up in the air and said she never had experienced any dysphoria at all. I recovered from her statement by simply saying she was lucky. I would have not wished what I went through with my gender struggles on my worst enemy. As a sidelight, I wondered later if the moderator knew what gender dysphoria was anyway. Since that time, she has gone through gender realignment surgery and has married another transgender woman. What I consider a remarkable journey for someone who never had experienced any gender trauma supposedly at all.

My trauma started quite early in life when I knew something was wrong with me but just could not come up with what it was. In fairness to me or my parents (if they knew), the information on gender dysphoria was completely missing in those days when I was young. In fact, I don’t think I was diagnosed with gender dysphoria until I went to a Veteran’s Administration therapist. Which would have been sometime in my thirties and allowed my therapist to prescribe gender affirming hormones to me and start the paperwork towards all my legal gender change documents. So, it was very important.

Along the way, I had the public to blame for furthering my gender trauma, which made my ordeal of coming out of my gender shell even worse. I was insecure enough until I made it to the ordeal of having the police called on me because I simply had to use the restroom. To make matters worse, I was kicked out of one of my regular venues. That was the place where the crew came down to a nearby venue I was going to and invited me back. It turned out, the manager who told me to leave was fired for drug abuse and stealing. I had my revenge, but my gender dysphoria remained.  

It turned out, my newfound success in the world as a transgender woman was followed by extra pressure to do better. I wanted to be better at my art of makeup and fashion. I wanted to be able to blend but do it better than the average cisgender woman. I wanted to be respected but at the same time not threatening the world. I had my setbacks such as being called a pervert by another woman in a restroom. I got even with her too when I found out she owned a hair salon, and I reported her to the local powerful LGBTQ center.

When something like that happened, I desperately needed points of gender euphoria to balance out the bad spots. It seemed for every gender bigot I encountered; I ran into another nice person who was genuinely curious about me. Many times, even better, I was able to learn as much from the other women I met as they did about me. For weeks at a time, if I was lucky, I grew confident in my presentation and my gender dysphoria subsided. Not completely, as there was always a new obstacle on my path to being a full-time transfeminine person. On the plus side, I spent less time stuck in reverse on my transition journey.

By being out in the public’s eye, I spent less time dwelling on what I was going to do about my future. Was I going to keep pursuing a part-time male life until the wheels came off or was, I going to take the actions necessary to make progress towards my dreams. As I put off deciding on my life, my gender dysphoria simply would not go totally away. Every day and time I looked in the mirror, I struggled because sometimes I would get a glimpse of my real feminine self but on others, I could not shake the old male image looking back at me. No matter how much change was occurring from the gender affirming hormones I was on. Disappointment ran deep with me as the transition wheels fell off when I saw him in the mirror.

Sheer willpower, as well as elation when things were going right kept me going through the dark days of dysphoria. In fact, to this day, I still suffer from gender duress when I look in the mirror. I have made it to the point where I am not as bad off as the mirror is telling me I am or as good as the mirror is suggesting. I am tired of fighting and the world will just have to take what it gets from me.

 

 

Life is too Short

 

Image from Brian Wangenheim 
on UnSplash.

Time is a precious commodity and life is too short.

Days, weeks, months and years are especially precious for many transgender women and transgender men. Mainly, if you waited until later in life to break out of your gender box and transition. Which is what I did.

I could and did look at my cross-dressing years as practicing for the big event of coming out as a transgender woman. While I improved my overall skills in wardrobe and makeup basics, there always seemed to be something I was missing. Actually, there were two main things I was missing, not just one. The first one was the realization I had my idea of cross-dressing backwards. I was never a man cross-dressing as a woman, I was a woman cross-dressing as a man. The second major realization was I would have to go through several transitions to meet my goal. An example was, I needed to transition from being a cross dresser to being a transgender woman if I was ever going to make it to where I wanted to go as a transfeminine person.

To accomplish my dream, I needed to take my second wife’s advice and set out to learn what a real woman went through in life. There was so much more than just being the “Pretty, pretty princess” as she called me. The problem was, she was always my feminine gatekeeper when I tried to explore the new and exciting world I was seeking. She did not want me to make it. She was a strong person and made it tough on me to progress in any way on my gender path but still I persisted.

Time went on and the years passed me by as I went to transgender-crossdresser parties and mixers to see what I could learn. Even then, when I hit my forties, I had a sense of desperation as time went on with me, and nothing major was happening on my gender front. It was during this time of my life when I started to escape my closet and explore the world. Mainly, I was carving out a totally new life where people knew nothing of my old male self. I was free to be the new me I wanted so bad.

After I went through the darkest period of my life when I lost nearly everything and everybody who was near and dear to me, did my life come full circle, and I began to notice the light at the end of the tunnel was not the train. My guess is I had paid my dues, and destiny was opening its doors to me. Among other things, it was about this time that the Veteran’s Administration health care system approved providing gender affirming hormones for veterans such as me. I jumped at the idea of taking advantage of less expensive HRT medicines and free mental health care. Even though I had already set up my hormonal medications through a civilian doctor.

By this time, it was becoming increasingly evident to me which direction my life would have to take before it was too late. I was in the middle to late fifties of my life and if I ever was going to ever have the courage to jump off the gender cliff, I would have to do it. One thing I did not want to do was continue to live the part-time gender existence I was already living. Plus, I was rapidly nearing the point in my life when I could take early retirement. Which would preclude me from having to go through any ugly transition on the job scenarios. I worked in a very male dominated profession, so switching genders on the go could have been quite challenging.

Finally, one night when I was out to be alone, I decided I was enjoying myself so much, I needed to end my gender turmoil forever. I decided to forsake all my male privileges I had fought to earn for decades and seek out my dream life as a transgender woman. It was not a decision I took lightly as I sent all my male clothes except my Army uniform to the thrift stores which were so beneficial to me when I was first acquiring my transfeminine wardrobe and fashion.

By this time, I was sixty and I figured I would never have a better chance to transition again. I took advantage of all the feminine “practice” I had done over the years. I was able to hit the gender ground running and never looked back.

 

Why Not Me?

 

Image from Buddha Elemental 3D
on UnSplash. 

My life has been a series of why not me moments.

As a boy growing up in Ohio, I always wanted to be a better athlete, which turned out to be an impossible quest because there always seemed to be a better athlete in my world to take my place. Then there was my attempt to be more social in the world, but I was incredibly shy, and it was so difficult to do. So, I ended up hiding at home, thinking someday I would grow out of my shyness.

My greatest why not me moments came as I struggled with my gender identity. It became so bad with me that when a stranger asked me what I was going to be when I grew up, the only truthful answer I never gave was a woman. I internalized my thoughts and somehow hoped they would go away. Which of course, they never did. They just got worse because the main problem I had was wondering if I could do it at all. Information was incredibly difficult to come by in my sheltered male privileged world and for the most part I was lost, and I continued the path I was on. Doing my best to live a male life successfully, and at the same time, steal away moments of privacy to cross dress in front of the mirror.

Often, much to my surprise, I was semi-successful at both. I kept my increasingly gender fluid life in balance by improving my mirror image away from drag clown to beginning girl, while at the same time, keeping the bullies away from me by having an interest in sports and cars. I even went as far as dating a few girls in high school where I ended up attending both my junior and senior proms. Little did anyone know I wanted to be the one wearing the pretty gown and getting the flowers. As with the rest of my life, I got over it and moved on, no matter how difficult it was. Why not me was not working, I was still stuck in my gender quicksand and there was no handsome cowboy coming to help me out. Or strong woman as it turned out.

When I finally had had enough of being a gender victim, I opened my closet door and looked around for the first time in my life. I knew I needed to move past the once-a-year Halloween parties I was attending as my novice transfeminine self and try more ways to get out into the world to see if I could be successful or would my dream of life as a woman always must be a dream. I was ever so cautious as I began by shopping in malls and bookstores which turned out to be low impact areas for novice cross dressers or transgender women. I went to places where my money was more important than my gender which gave me the confidence to do more. More meant testing the public with new and exciting ideas such as stopping at restaurants to eat to see if I had any push back at all. I did not and moved on. Maybe, my why not me was coming true after all.

Sadly, dreams being dreams are not so easy to achieve I found out. Especially in the world of gender change. There was no way I could gloss over all the nuances of being a true transgender woman would entail. Many times, I ended up getting my new high heels stuck in more quicksand than I could have imagined and was fortunate to have found my way out, which I have written about in several blog posts. It occurred when I suffered the loss of male security privilege. However, by this time, I was able to take the good with the bad which was beginning to lessen, and I could see my dream being reality.  Which I had never thought possible.

For the first time in my life, I was beginning to live my why not me moments. I was at the threshold of living the life I had always wanted. Free from the male shackles which had tied me down. Sure, at times, it was unbelievably confusing to do, but with the help of a few women friends I always mention, I made it and was able to get out of the quicksand all together and rebuild my life.

Today, I am a woman who happened to come from a different background than most. But it was my dream to make it, and I did. As I said, I never thought I could or would.

 

 

 

 

Chess versus Checkers in Life

 

JJ Hart in Key Largo

On occasion, it seems to me that I am playing chess when the rest of the world is playing with checkers.

Of course, I am referring to how my gender dysphoric issues have affected my life. Let me be clear too, I have never been a chess player in real life ever. None of that stops me from having the utmost respect for someone who excels at the game. So why can I compare playing chess to my life at all? The reason is I can understand life a little bit better than the average person just because I have lived my life on both sides of the primary gender borders. I have had the opportunity to see firsthand how men live and then women when I was allowed behind the gender curtain as a transgender woman.

Having the opportunity to live in both gender worlds has totally put me at odds with some in the world. Especially those who worship the orange pedo/felon. It has been ridiculous how many laws have been passed in certain areas of the country against the transgender population. My prime example is my native Ohio, where I live today. For all intents and purposes, the Republican state legislation has voted me out of existence. The question is why. To find a closer look, you must follow the money here in Ohio where a deep funded dark money political group rented out and renovated offices right across the street from the statehouse in Columbus, Ohio. It turns out the primary objective of the group was to push for anti-transgender laws in the state.

Of course, in the already corrupt legislature, the anti-trans push worked. Often in the dead of night when the Republicans pushed it through. By now you may be wondering what all this political talk has to do with playing chess. With all the new laws, transgender women and transgender men have been forced to be more skillful when they go out in public. To their credit, many of the transfeminine people I know have continued their push to live an everyday life.

On the other side of the coin, those rednecks who would not accept us have never met a trans person in their lives and don’t know how to react when they discover we are just trying to live our lives the best we can. Which gives us a better chance of acceptance when they do.

I think also, many strangers don’t trust us because we have an abundance of life knowledge and skills behind us. Which is the reason many men reject us because they know we were once in the male club and know all the tricks. On the flip side, as I was transitioning into the feminine world, I had several women ask me personal questions on how to deal with their men since I had lived in the male camp for so long. Sure, It took me a long time to be awarded my feminine chess set, but once I was, there would be no looking back and no one was going to take away my new found freedom.

Certainly, I feel the same way today as I did when I came out of my gender shell over a decade ago. This fall, my wife Liz and I are taking another tour. This time to Boston, Vermont and Maine. Even though this is our fifth tour and I have never had any restroom problems before, I always pause to consider the consequences if I do this time. All it takes is one bigot to ruin it for everyone. One way or another, no tRumper is going to keep me from using the restroom of my choice with Liz. If the last tour was any example, I won’t have to worry about any gender related questions because the best one we received last year was were Liz and I sisters.

After being able to live so many years on both sides of the gender border, I feel now I am more than qualified to bring my chess game to the public and leave my old male checkers behind. Now, I even anticipate the sport of anyone trying to challenge me in the world. It took me long enough to get here, so it is time to enjoy it the best I can without something as petty as the restroom standing in my way.

Sorry about the politics in this post, but sometimes I just need to vent the best I can when someone is succeeding in taking our transgender rights away. We just have to be better than our rivals who know nothing about gender chess.

Never forget, men play checkers while women play chess in life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Buckle Up! Now Entering Gender Comfort Zone

 

Image from Andraz Lazic 
on UnSplash. 

Around here, in Southwestern Ohio at least, we have been in orange barrel season on the roadways for months now.  As we drive through the new road construction, it is time to be ultra cautious and buckle up your seatbelt for safety.

As I always do when I travel, my mind drifts towards the transgender side of life when my wife Liz does the driving. This time, I equated all the orange barrels we were driving through to my life as a transgender woman.

Even if I had ever had a choice (which I did not), I wonder if under the old if I knew then what I know now if I would have ever embarked on the gender path I took. Initially, it was fun playing in my mom’s clothes and makeup, until suddenly it was not. It seemed too quickly I passed through the stage of wanting to look like a girl, straight to wanting to be a girl. To hell with the mirror, I wanted more out of life. Very quickly, my new attitude was causing problems which I needed to buckle up to and attempt to tackle.

Sadly, there were many times when I swerved when I should not have and hit several orange barrels throwing me back into my mirror to attempt to learn what I was doing wrong. What happened was, I simply needed more time and experience to be successful with a very complex move I was trying to make. Change genders as a human being. All along, I knew women were different, but I did not know how different until I was allowed behind the gender curtain. Plus, just being allowed behind the curtain required special navigation skills to get around the orange barrels. Not only did I need to appear as a woman, I needed to move and communicate as a woman also.

Putting the image from the mirror into focus and into the world proved to be very difficult for me. Since I was trying to live a life spanning both main binary genders, living one day as a trans woman and one day as a man was literally killing me mentally. The pain I was suffering I would not have wished on my worst enemy and worse yet, I was veering off my path and hitting many barrels. Fortunately, after a failed suicide try, I righted the ship and was able to continue towards my dream of living full time as a transgender woman. Without taking out any more orange barrels.

As I became better at being a confident woman from a different background, I began to see life differently. I was able to look other women directly in the eye and tell a lot about what they were thinking. As I took lessons from other cisgender women on nonverbal communication. From then on, my life began to improve markedly as I began to buckle up for more gender challenges. Such as, losing all my male privileges I fought so hard to gain. I nearly had major collisions when I did not plan on losing all the security privileges I had as a man. One night I had a big problem with a large man I could not fend off at a party I was at and needed my wife to rescue me and on another night, I was walking alone on an urban sidewalk after leaving a gay venue when I was approached by two men wanting money. They took my last five dollars and went on their way. Lessons learned from both evenings. One way or another, these two near misses made the loss of my intelligence when I talked to men seem to be very petty.

The next set of orange barrels I needed to navigate came when I began gender affirming hormones. The first major hurdle I had was finding a doctor to prescribe them at all. Back when I was looking for hormones back in the 1980’s in Ohio. Once I had passed the test of being on a minimum dosage for a period of time, I was allowed to take bigger amounts of HRT, and the changes really started to happen. Then, I had a whole different set of barrels to drive around. Such as, what would I do about my rapidly developing breasts and softer facial angles. The entire process moved up my transition timeline into the transfeminine world.

I finally had had enough with the whole gender dilemma, gave my male clothes to charity and set out to build a new feminine life at the age of sixty. Being a late transitioner had its benefits to me because I had more than a little idea of what to expect. Mainly from the time I spent navigating around all the orange gender barrels I saw on my path towards a future I so dearly wanted. As I always point out, it was never easy, and I needed to buckle up to make it.

 

 

Dealing With Severe Escapism

Image from Ludovica Dri
on UnSplash.

Severe escapism has been part of my life for many years.

It all goes back to the humble beginnings of me exploring my mom’s clothes and makeup. The entire process helped me to escape from a male life I never wanted. What never occurred to me had how quickly I escaped would become reality as I kept going back to my cross-dressing beginnings to seek guidance from the mirror.

Problems began when I began to listen to the mirror completely. It was telling me I was an attractive woman but was I really and ready to prove it to the world. When I switched out the mirror for the world, I quickly learned I had a long way to go in my heels to do better in a feminine world. What turned out to be a short trip really kept on going into a major lifetime of escapism.

How did I know I was escaping? Primarily it started when I began to feel so good as my novice transgender self. I thought, how could I feel this good and natural if I was just escaping. It was at that point when I seriously started exploring the possibility of living out my dream of eventually living out my life as a transfeminine person.  

Increasingly, I discovered my dream was a reality if only I could sever my ties with my escapism I was suffering under. No more could I run home to hide behind my skirts if I was so completely exploring the feminine world. Whatever was going to happen just would. What happened was I did not have to escape nearly as much because I was increasingly enjoying my journey into transgender womanhood. Again, because I could not run and hide when someone tried to interact with me. I even was able to conquer my fear of the “mean girls club” as I not so fondly call the so-called gatekeepers of femininity. Perhaps conquering is too strong a term. Put up with maybe a better one. The mean girls may not have liked me but found I was going nowhere.

As I no longer had to resort to so much escapism, I began to look for better ways to live my new life. I started to see new colors in the world as the gender affirming hormones (HRT) in my life began to take control. My senses heightened to a point where I could sense the world as well as the cisgender women around me. I learned women were really cold all the time I thought they were making it up, is a prime example.

It was increasingly a very rare occasion when I needed to revert to my old male life to take advantage of a male privilege such as taking my car in to be repaired. Even though I have needed to conquer that fear, I still have nagging problems with doing anything auto related to this day. Outside of that, I have overcome most of the problems I faced which sent me home hiding behind my skirts. Even my mirror has become a noncombatant in my life. I see myself for whom I really am. No better, no worse and I work from there with my makeup.

To be sure, running away from my gender issues did not improve my life. I continued to switch jobs and locations as I tried to escape my true self. It was not until I landed a dream job in my hometown did, I had to stay put and quit running. For all intents and purposes my escape route was destroyed. For a while, channeling all my gender issues into my work proved to be a wise choice as I made it nearly to the top in my field. Hear I was, with a good marriage, family and job, while all along something was still missing. That something was I still had the nagging idea something was still missing from my gender identity. I was still living a lie and found it increasingly difficult to run anymore from the idea.

In many ways, tragically, escapism would work for me as I became the last person standing in my small group of friends. They all died including my wife of twenty-five years, so I needed to start all over again. As they say, when one door closes, another one opens. Which is all well and good if you can find the door. Destiny paved the way for me to make the final gender transition of my life away from the male road I was on. For every tragedy which I so poorly faced, I discovered a person to help me rebuild, and that person is my wife, Liz.

With the magic words, she had never seen any male in me at all, I threw all caution (and him) to the wind along with all my male clothes and closed out the portion of my male life I had fought so long to do away with. My only regret? I selfishly would like back all the time and energy I wasted on fighting the inevitable, it was always time to allow my transgender woman to live. She was tired of not being allowed to do anything. Escaping was over.

 

Breakfast with the Family

 

JJ Hart.

Just a short post today since I spent most of the morning at breakfast with the supporting side of my mini family.

By “mini”, I meant there were only four of us, my wife Liz, my daughter, son in law and me of course. We met roughly halfway between Dayton, Ohio (where they live) and Cincinnati where Liz and I live. To do so, I needed to take my walk early, which was not a bad idea anyhow because of our ongoing heat advisory.

Because of all of that and the half hour drive, I needed to back time the rest of my activities such as shaving, applying makeup and brushing out my hair. Since we were meeting at a casual breakfast venue, I chose a nice tan sleeveless top with a pair of leggings and flats. As always, I wanted to be comfortable and blend in with the other women. The only hold-up we ran into was the first venue we always went to was closed, so we had to choose another close by. Fortunately, we were near a major interstate exit, and there were a couple of other major breakfast food chains nearby. Plus, the one we chose was not full and we were seated quickly. Sadly, we could not find any locally owned venues to support.

As always, it is about this time, after all these years of being out in public, I still have a little amount of concern over being read in a negative situation. Nothing of that sort happened this morning and I had a great time. The only drawback happened when we discussed how my first wife was doing after her husband passed away last week. She is the mother of my daughter, and she is quite close to the situation.

My kid is a glutton for punishment and even went to an extended family reunion (from my wife’s late husband) last week. You may remember, she has a trans child who she completely supports and is quite liberal, in the middle of a bunch of tRumpt loving cultists. Including a friend of mine from long ago who keeps asking how my dead name is doing. He refuses to call me by my new legal name. Since I never see him anymore, I could care less about him and his political beliefs.

Other than our brief political discussions, we had a great morning and better yet, no one questioned my gender.

 

 

 

Meeting Your True Self

 

Image from Caroline Veronez on UnSplash.

Perhaps you remember looking into the mirror and seeing your true self peeking back at you for the first time. I know I do.

Ironically, I don’t think it was the time when I was looking at myself after trying on my mom’s clothes and working with her makeup. I am sure it was much later when I improved my makeup skills to progress from looking like a clown in drag. Most certainly, I could not see the true me yet but there was still hope that I still would. I had an ideal to work towards. My ideal was I wanted to be a pretty girl and admire myself in the mirror. But even still, I knew deep down I wanted more than just looking like a girl, I wanted to be a girl, in the worst way.

My biggest problem was I did not know how to achieve my goal of being much more than a part-time cross-dresser. I was still in the pre-information stage on the internet dark ages and had very little idea there was anyone like me who was questioning their gender. Even though, I finally did meet other cross dressers or transgender women but still was coming away confused on who I really was. It wasn’t until I gathered my courage and put my ego away to undergo a professional makeover at one of the mixers I went to, did I finally see the potential of who I was overcome my male self in the mirror. Better yet, the make up professional was able to explain to me what he was doing as he did it in a way I could understand and repeat the process.

As I began to enter the public’s harsh eyes, the pressure was on to up my fashion and makeup game so I could blend in with the world as a novice transgender woman. Increasingly, I was pushing my male image aside and concentrating on my feminine look in the mirror. I was coming close to seeing the true me for the first time in my life. Once I met her, I knew there could be no turning back. I needed to step up my public game to meet my gender urges.

It turned out, the public did my work for me. As I established myself as a regular in a few special venues I was going to, other women began to approach me for friendly conversations. For most, it was nothing more than idle curiosity about who I was and why I was there. Whatever the case, I needed to develop a more complete personality quickly. No longer could I sit there by myself and watch the world go by and enjoy myself as others were watching me. My true self came out quickly and she was aided by my long dormant feminine self. She had waited long enough for her turn to do more than survive, she wanted to thrive. I was surprised at how well she thrived. She did not care others knew she came about her femininity from a different route than she did. She just knew she was finally there.

Since I don’t rely on any facial surgeries to help my look, I am very much into what you see is what you get these days. I have had to rely on makeup skill and the effects of gender affirming hormones to get me by in the world. For the most part these days, I present as old more than anything else but again, I needed to meet my true self. Finally, I could take denying reality any longer and moved to accept my true self. The meeting was long overdue and was so much fun, I was sad I put it off as long as I did.

No Easy Way Out

 

JJ Hart doing Trans Outreach Work. 

Like many of you, I struggled for years to escape my dark, lonely gender closet.

As I beat my head against the closet walls, I stared longingly into the mirror, dreaming of the day I would find an easy way out. As I did, it became increasingly evident to me that there would be no such escape from my dominating male self. He would make life miserable for years because of my indecision.  One day I wanted to be a boy and the next I wanted to be a girl dictated how I lived.

After years of despair over my gender dysphoria, I began to see a sliver of light in my closet when I briefly opened the door to look out. At first, I was getting the door slammed back into my face when I went out in public. Too many people were laughing at me to my face or worse yet, I could hear their comments behind my back. I was sent home early many nights in tears, wondering what I was doing wrong with my feminine presentation. Following intense introspection, I discovered what was wrong. I was letting my old male self-make my fashion decisions and dressing for men instead of women who were for the most part controlling my destiny as a transgender woman. Without the support of women, I would have never made it out of my closet at all.

Even as I learned my lessons on presentation, I still found there would be no easy way out of my closet. I discovered the more walls I scaled on my path to transgender womanhood; the more walls would appear to challenge me. Mainly because I was out in the public eye so much more, and I was challenged to find the proper wig to wear all the time as well as find better fashion to augment my wardrobe. There was no way I wanted to wear the same outfit day after day when people began to recognize me. To offset the extra attention, I needed to increase my visits to area thrift stores to find bargains I could afford, and more importantly, fit me. I was obsessed with outdoing myself when it came to my feminine presentation.

It turned out, the public was noticing as I lost nearly fifty pounds and started taking better care of my skin. If I behaved myself in the world, and was friendly, I crossed the line into communicating with other women. Of all the walls I needed to climb, communication skills were the hardest to scale. The change was dramatic because I needed to change my communication from direct male to indirect female as I learned women often talk with their eyes. Thus, I needed to get better in looking another woman in her eyes when I talked with her. Often doing it as a man was a threatening option, while doing it as a woman was not optional. I needed to learn to do it. By doing so, often I could see what they thought of me. Did they think of me as a woman or sort of a man seeking admittance into their world.

Mostly what I received back was curiosity. What was I doing in their world? And I think they understood my interest in being admitted to the girl’s sandbox went far beyond just putting on a wig, dress and makeup. One way or another, the process was extremely challenging and kept me guessing every night about what I was going to experience because some nights I was tired of climbing walls. I kept looking for the last one to climb, but found I was not even close. Mainly because the gender club I was seeking to join was so complex. On the other hand, the process of totally leaving my closet and male privileges behind was still quite scary and I needed total confidence in what I was doing before I made the final jump.

My introduction to HRT or gender affirming hormones gave me the confidence I needed to keep going. Suddenly the hormones helped me to sync up my external feminine self with my internal one. It was the final shove I needed to get out of my closet and live a new life as a transfeminine person. It turned out there was an easy way to escape if only I possessed the inner strength to look for my truth. Once I did, my fragile mental health improved, and I set my sights on enjoying my family more since a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. In the end, it was all worth it, but it was never an easy trip to go on, or I could find no easy way out.