Growing Like a Weed

 

Image from Marya Volk 
on UnSplash.

I was devastated when I outgrew all my mom’s clothes and I had no sister’s closets to raid for clothes. Where would I ever be able to find the feminine accessories, I needed to cross dress in front of the mirror. So, I had to rely on a little luck and a whole lot of creativity to get by. For example, I found a discarded cute stretch mini skirt just outside of the girl’s locker room at school which fit me, and I had it for years. The rest of my “collection” came from being able to do work around the house, and a rural newspaper route I had delivering papers. My parents loved the fact that I was so industrious without ever knowing the real reason why.

As I continued my ascent towards unwanted puberty and testosterone poisoning, sadly I continued to grow like a weed, making it less probable I could find any clothes to fit me. Somehow, I did by being very creative with my meager funds and having the courage to sneak out of my grandma’s house to secretly go shopping for clothes and makeup. As I always point out, we lived out of town, and the only way I had to get around was by my bike, unless I spent the night at grandma’s. Who lived close to downtown where we lived. I survived the clerks in the stores I went to and slowly became better at what I bought.

Through it all, I thought I would outgrow this portion of my life when all I wanted was to be a girl. Like a weed, it kept on growing in me and refused to go away. I went through the usual phases of gender dysphoria many of us go through. The heights of euphoria when I crossed dressed, and the lows when I was not able to. The pressure on me continued to build up until I took chances and dressed in a locked room with my brother around. Certainly, if I was discovered, my parents would have treated me with enough weed killer at a psychiatrist appointment to do me in. My parents’ eldest son wanting to be a girl would not have been tolerated.

Either I was better in hiding my cross dressing from them, or they chose to ignore it, because nothing was ever said to me, and I dodged any trips to therapy where they knew nothing about gender dysphoria and would refer to me as being mentally ill.

The older I became, the more my weed sprouted and refused to go away. In fact, when the internet era began and we bought our first computer, it gave me the chance to research what sort of a weed I had. Very quickly I learned my early ideas were correct and I was much more than a weekend cross dresser who was more or less wanting to look like a ciswoman as some sort of a hobby. In fact, I was transgender which was a new term back in those days. For the first time in my life, I found a label which fit me. I was not a cross dresser at all, nor was I a fully-fledged transsexual who wanted to run off and have genital realignment surgery. Through the computer I was even able to meet others similar to me for the first time in my life.

At that point, I began to realize my weed was not a weed at all, it was turning out to be more of a late blooming flower which had to be explored and nurtured. As  I began to explore the new feminine world I was in, I discovered how complex ciswomen had it in their lives and what affected them. I can use my second wife as an example of how badly a woman could feel when her husband wants to run off and be a woman. Often without having the knowledge to do it. I felt sorry for my wife, and we fought often, but there was nothing I could do about my new flower in my life. It was not out of control as much as it was me and I refused to confront it. Long story short, she did not live long enough to experience the transfeminine person I had become and that was a shame because like it or not, she had a lot to do with the new feminine me.

Now I feel sorry for all those toxic men and ciswomen who can not seem to find their way out of their weed patch. Growing a beautiful new flower is the only way to go as you live your life as a transgender woman. Now I know why my old male self never liked flowers.

 

 

Not a Fetish...A Lifestyle

 

Image from UnSplash. 

I am still always amazed when a bigot or uneducated person thinks a transgender woman dresses as a woman as some sort of a fetish.

In my case, I realized the feminine clothes and makeup I was wearing were secondary to the real reason I was doing it. I wanted to be a woman, or as close as I could come to being one because I knew there were certain things I could never do such as give birth. As I progressed through the years, however, I found I could find my own path to womanhood and follow it. I would have no part of thinking I was involved in a fetish at all. I was different. Little did I know how different I would turn out to be.

Initially, I judged a ciswoman’s life from what I observed, since I was not allowed into experience more. When all you have is a one-sided view, all you get is a shallow result. All I could see was the pretty clothes, shoes and hair that the women around me had. Why did I have to be stuck in my same old shirt and tie when my cousins at Christmas got to wear their new velvet dresses, shiny black shoes, and creamy tights. I was always so disappointed when we left for the trip home, and I dreamed of the day I could be a woman.

For many reasons, I took my time getting to my dream world. It was almost fifty years later when my wife Liz and I took in a Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra Christmas concert, and I was the one who needed to come up with the most beautiful semi-formal gown I could to blend in with the other ciswomen and enjoy the evening, I did as I thrift shopped diligently until I came up with an attractive, sparkly gown in my size. Happily, I brought it home and it worked well as I blended right in. Without a fetish in sight.

The only time I had to deal with being a fetish object was when I first came out into the public out of my closet and tried online dating. At first, all was pretty quiet on the dating front until I began to try the “man seeking man” sites. Since I never kept my transgender status a secret, I began to be flooded with men who wanted to wear my used panties or just meet up in a motel room some place. I even had a couple of men who wanted me to dress them up as a woman. Naturally, I turned down all those requests and was stood up often when I required meeting a man in a public location of my choice. Even though I was intensely lonely, I knew I was more than a fetish object and had to be safe in the new world I was in.

The longer I followed this route, the more I knew I was headed towards a complete gender lifestyle change. My dream was more than a dream and it could be a reality if I tried hard enough to reach it. But first I needed to change who I was trying to reach in the world. When I started out, I thought men would be my focus. All the way to having one woman friend tell me to get a banana and practice. (I will let your imagination do the rest.) As I progressed though, I discovered the opposite was true, in order to make it in life, I needed to first be accepted in the world of ciswomen. Who made it a practice of looking me over from head to toe when I went out in the world. They taught me how to be better, because I was certainly not a fetish object to them. I was locked into a scary, exciting new transfeminine lifestyle.

When I became a regular in certain venues, it helped me jump the gap I was experiencing when someone just saw me for the first time and thought I was a man in a dress. When they saw me for the second time or more, they began to realize I was a lifestyle, no matter what I used to be. The world opened for me, as well as the ciswomen around me who taught me I did not need validation from a man to feel good about myself.

As day-to-day transgender women, we do face the improbable battle with trans porn in the world. Men think we are all like women they see in videos, and magazines. When the men find out we are not the fetish objects of their desire, some react violently. Trans women have enough threats to face without the extra problems of trans porn.

As soon as the government leaves us alone and realizes we are just living our lives, not as fetish objects, the world will be a better place to live. Our transgender reality is what we are fighting for.

 

 

 

When Gender Makes a Restroom Call

 

Women's Restroom 
from UnSplash,

Quite early when I began to leave my gender closet behind and navigate the public, it became evident that I would have to do something about how I was going to use the women’s restroom.

Initially, I had two problems and one benefit to deal with. The two problems I dealt with were the forms of liquid I was digesting, beer and coffee. Both of which did not want to stay in my body long, so I had to use the restroom more often than I normally would. The benefit I had was I had had many occasions to be in the women’s room as a man when I managed my restaurants. Sadly, I learned that ciswomen were not the fastidious gender I thought they were as I cleaned up many messes and tried to unclog stopped up toilets when there were trash receptacles nearby for sanitary products. So, I was prepared when I ran into a mess in a women’s room when I entered for the first time as a novice transgender woman.

On the other hand, I recognized the seriousness of entering a women’s only space and set out to be prepared. Naturally, I learned many lessons I added to those I already knew. Out of the many things I learned was I needed to flip totally the male idea that no one looks at another man at all in the restroom. Whereas, as much as I did not want to, I needed to smile and acknowledge other women in the restroom because that was the right thing to do. Little did I know, I was just getting started on learning the basics of survival in the women’s room.

I learned to look for an extra hook in the stall so I could hang my purse up properly and a secure lock to keep my all-important privacy secure. As you might remember, a poor abused lock let me down on a recent vacation to New England. Fortunately, I was just finishing my important business in a stall when I was rudely interrupted by a young girl who broke through the lock and surprised both of us. The disaster was averted since I was almost dressed and had pulled my leggings up. It was the only time something like that happened to me and it gave me the extra incentive to check the locks in the stalls I chose.

When I was younger and more insecure in the women’s restroom, I went to any extent to cover all my transgender bases. Of course, I always sat to pee, which I had seen cross dressers in the past not do, as they even left the toilet seat up. Then they wondered why they lost women’s room privileges. Which leads me to this point, cross dressers or not have to look before they sit on toilets. You can save yourself from bad situations by doing so. Also, when I was younger, just in case a prying woman asked, yes, I did have an extra feminine protection product for her to use. I was that paranoid of being discovered and losing my gender restroom privileges. I even tried to mimic a ciswoman’s urine flow to keep up.

Outside of having the courage to use the “room”, perhaps the second biggest act of courage is leaving the relative security of your stall and leaving. I had to remember that normally there was a line of women waiting to use the stall, so I had to move it along. That also meant ALWAYS washing my hands, quickly checking my hair and makeup and leaving. Hopefully safely without any negative feedback such as being called a pervert by a nasty woman one night. Thankfully, it was an isolated incident which happened years ago, and I have had no further repeats of such a negative experience.

Sadly, with many states coming up with more stringent anti-transgender restroom laws, we trans women and trans men also must become more adept in how we use the restroom. And I can’t imagine how bad it is for trans youth just trying to get by.

My words of wisdom are to look for restrooms which are uni-gender such as coffee shops and easy acceptance venues such as bookstores. Anyplace you can scout out the potential restroom you need to use. Then build your confidence from there. And one more thing (at least) make sure there is toilet paper in the stall you use because the next woman after you will wonder how you used it without paper.

Once you are confident of your transgender womanhood, other ciswomen will notice nothing is wrong with you. Which there isn’t. When your gender makes a restroom call, you are just doing what comes naturally.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gender Lost and Found

 

Image from Patrick Hawlick
on UnSplash.  

Navigating the path of lost and found is often very difficult for a transgender woman or transgender man. Speaking for me only, my path was filled with many holes and dead ends before I ever saw any success.

Perhaps, even more frustrating was the fact that once I thought I had made a significant move forward, I would hit a brick wall and be rejected again, and desperation set in. Too many times, at the beginning of my feminine experience when I had no clue of what I was doing wrong when I had enough courage to leave my dark closet. It finally occurred to me that I had had enough of my frustrating existence as a man. Sadly, some days I was on my transfeminine game. Some days not so much as there was so much to learn. Such as, on the days when my makeup, hair and wardrobe looked presentable, I caught myself making the same old male scowl I had perfected to keep the world away. It got so bad, I even had a little girl point me out to her mom by saying “Look at the big MEAN woman” Not the image I wanted to portray but at least I passed the woman part. The gender cup was half full, and I had learned a valuable lesson.

My biggest challenge was putting together my feminine image once I succeeded in getting it out of the mirror. The mirror was always kind to me by telling me just what I wanted to hear. While the public was brutally honest with me and they were my mirror. Sometimes I found what I was looking for and was accepted as a trans woman, and some days I wasn’t. The classic lost and found. My goal always was to keep my gender finds much more frequent than my losses. What I never knew was how difficult that would be. I thought I had a good understanding of what a woman’s life would be all about, until I learned how wrong I was. It seemed my lessons were like peeling back the layers of an onion. Even to the point of shedding tears when I was not successful.

The more I followed the obscure gender signs on my path, the more of my male life I lost and of course, he hated it. With the hate came an alliance with my second wife to stop me from finding more of my transgender self. The two on one battle was never fair, but I knew I would have to fight it anyway for my self-survival. The ultimate lost and found was at stake for me. I had a life to lose when I transitioned as I faced the very real reality of losing my marriage, family, friends and employment. On the other hand, I faced the growing reality I could live out my lifetime dream of living as a woman on my terms.

Ultimately, I discovered I uncovered a life so rich and full, I wondered how I had ever lived without it before. Of course, I am referring to my new life as a transgender woman. I found my unique life between the two main binary genders gave me a perspective on life that many others just don’t have. I never lost my knowledge of what men think, while at the same time gaining an idea of what women were thinking too. In fact, several women I knew after I transitioned reached out to me for ideas about problems they were having with their men. I knew I had finally arrived and had gained more than I had ever lost.

As I could see the distant finish line on my gender path, I picked up speed and did things such as start gender affirming hormones or HRT. The hormones never made me transgender but helped me to sync up my internal gender issues. I was so fortunate when the doctor said I was healthy enough to start his hormonal program. Minimal dosage or not, I was on my way again.

Even though, I don’t think I would wish gender lost and found on anyone, for me, what I went through made life interesting. Just to understand in my own way what ciswomen go through in their lives as close as I could took me closer to my goal of jumping to what I saw as the side of the gender border, I wanted to be on. I even lived through the old “bait and switch” side of life when I thought I was being successful, but I wasn’t. Ultimately, learning more and more transgender lessons as I did.

 

 

 

It's Halloween Season

 

Image from Andrea Li
on UnSplash.

It is finally here, the season that all cross dressers and novice transgender women dream about, Halloween. It is the magical day when we can be ourselves without all the paranoia of being caught and exposed as a man wanting to be feminine. The time when everyone has a chance to cross the gender line and be themselves.

These days, since I sadly don’t participate in Halloween much anymore, I don’t write much about it. But back in the day, I was fanatical in my Halloween preparations. Without fail, I would begin thinking of my “costume” the first of October and change my mind several times before Halloween itself. I always felt a transgender woman had the right to change her mind. Would I try to be sexy this year or try for a more authentic “costume” such as a professional woman look. Major decisions I needed to make with the added pressure of knowing it would be another year before I could take advantage of the parties again.

Ironically, the “costumes” I chose followed in many ways my progression as an early transgender woman. In the early days, I would try to dress sexy and get away with the shortest mini dresses and highest heels I could find. Of course, then, I would give myself away as more than just a casual “jokester” at Halloween by shaving my legs, wearing a long sexy wig, and having great looking makeup. Which my wife took credit for when she wasn’t and didn’t wear any makeup at all. Even the most casual ciswoman observers at the parties I went to could tell how serious I was about looking my best as a woman.

As I said, I quickly grew out of my sexy/trashy Halloween costumes and began to dream of being accepted my mistake as a “real woman” at the parties I went to. That began my era of actually being mistaken for a woman just getting off work and coming to one of the parties I went to. I was professionally dressed in a dress and heels and ended up surprising other guests I had known for years. For the evening, I went with another woman other than my wife and had to sadly turn down a request to go with another couple to a different party. Later on, I learned that the man was a politician who was elected to Washington, so my political career was quickly ended by saying no.

Outside of that party, there was only one other party I went to when I was dressed in a moderately sexy “costume”. It was during my stay in New York and another night I got out of the house without my second wife going with me, for some reason. This time, my invitation came from one of my female managers where I worked, so I looked forward to what the evening had in store for me. It turned out my sexy “costume” hair and makeup fit it perfectly with the other women I ended up meeting for the first time.

I ended up meeting everyone in my manager’s house and they were all there when I arrived. I will never forget the delight I felt when I saw they were all dressed like me, so unknowingly I had dressed to blend with them. Also, I will never forget the hush that fell over the room as the other women looked me over from head to toe. I ended up tagging along in my heels, hose and mini skirt with all the other women who were almost as tall as I when we made our way to a close by neighborhood bar where the party was taking place. I had my misgivings about how I would be treated there, but after I was in the bar for a while, there was no indication from anyone that I was not anyone different than I appeared. I was even asked if I wanted to dance by a man. All I know was the night flew by in a hurry and my wife did not speak to me for days because she saw my “costume” before I left.

Even though my Halloween highs were very high, sadly they were accompanied by very lows I needed to suffer through. I became very depressed and mean and tried to make everyone around me feel the same way. My problem was only ultimately solved by getting out of my dark gender closet more than just once a year.

In order for me to exist in a life I was discovering I needed, I had to set Halloween aside as just another day. Which ultimately took all the fun and drama away from it. But sacrifices had to be made for me to live as a transgender woman and Halloween was just one of them.

 

Taking a Break from the Elephant?

 

No more Elephants! JJ Hart,

Taking a break from the elephant? I guess finally I am.

This morning, with groceries running low in the house, my wife Liz and I decided to run out in the rain to our nearby coffee shop to grab coffee and a breakfast snack. Since I was not anticipating meeting anyone else in the world, I just grabbed my purse and headed out the door with Liz. No makeup or anything since we were just going through the drive through. When we returned home and in a dry space, it occurred to me that I had retired the elephant in the closet of my life.

Excuse my language, but that damn elephant has always been a part of me for as long as I can remember. It was somehow a part of every decision I made. I could not take a break if I wanted to. If I was on a vacation with my second wife, I could not relax because I was thinking so much how I would feel if I could do it as a woman. Usually, after the vacation was over, I just wanted to get back to work to take my mind off the elephant in the room…my transgender issues.

I finally came to a point when I quit worrying about who I was gender-wise. I was just me and that had to be good enough. Surely though, I needed a lot of help to make it to that point in my life. I was deeply insecure about my transfeminine self and needed whatever public reassurance I could get. More than not, the reassurance came from having no feedback at all when I was out in the world. No laughing or staring to ruin my entire experience. I just could not take any sort of break until I became better at my public presentation all the time. I was still two people trying to come together.

All of this extended over to my writing which at this count is over seven thousand posts over ten years on one platform I write on. On occasion, I go back through my earlier posts to see what if there were any changes there were.  When I did, I was amazed at how centered in I was on my feminine appearance and not much else. I still had not learned what the elephant in the room was trying to tell me, there was so much more to being a woman than my appearance. I could not take a break until I learned that ciswomen lead a more difficult, layered life than men, and I needed to adjust and do better if I was ever going to really succeed.

I don’t think I truly conquered all of my fears of merging my worlds together until Liz and I began to take bus tour vacations to various parts of the country. Primarily, when I needed to stand in line for the first time in many years with other women waiting to use the restroom. The entire process tested my new outlook on the world in a space which was considered a women’s only environment. I remembered what I learned from all my past experiences, did what I had to do, washed up and left. With no adverse feedback from any potential haters or bigots. I was just me using the restroom.

With all of that behind me, I began to relax even farther and enjoy all the new scenery the trip had to offer, for the first time as me. I was on my own and to hell with the elephant which had taken up so much room in my closet. Another chapter in my life had been closed. The only break I took was from my daily writing routine, to allow myself a chance to recharge my batteries and hopefully do a better job which I had never been professionally trained at. I just started writing to hopefully help others with similar issues.

These days, since I have retired from my elephant and am still taking a break from all the problems and commotion he caused, sometimes I don’t know how to act. After all, I needed years to rebuild the damage he caused. Taking a break, now, means a lot more to me than just taking a vacation. I am sure before the next adventure we take; I will still feel the same residue from past gender world mishaps I needed to overcome and move forward, but at least I don’t have to ruin my days worrying about it.

It is much easier to pack for a trip for just one person. The only person which really mattered all along which makes taking a break much easier to do.

 

 

If I was a Betting Person

 

Image from Jeshoots.Com on 
UnSplash.

In my life, I have never been much of a betting person at all.

In addition, there were many times I would have bet against myself when I thought of ever making it to my dream of being a fulltime transgender woman. I had a real problem remembering all the negatives I encountered when I first left my closet and went out into the world. As I always mention, my gender woman’s workbook was totally blank when I started my life. The only fact which was rapidly becoming sure to me was that was I positive something was wrong with me.

Probably the only thing I would have been certain of was the gender issue I dealt with was deep and very complicated. Had I known how to bet on it, I would have. The only thing I would never bet on was I had my life completely backwards. Since I was born into a male world, I stayed there way too long. Staying on course to be the best man I could.

For awhile I thought I was successful in my male life as I held the bullies at bay by playing sports and working on cars. The proof was when I finally did work through my issues and transitioned, the very few people who knew the old male me were totally surprised when I told them. Proof I hid my true self very well, often sadly. I was hiding myself too well and, in the meantime, hurting my already frail mental health.

By this time, my male self was betting against any idea I could ever come out into the world as a transfeminine person. In fact, he did not know what the term meant. Following the adversity I went through coming out, he found out what perfecting our new life was all about. It was about going out as much as I could and exploring an exciting, yet scary, new world. It was about buckling up and staying the gender course I was on, when the times got rough. Which was often. I never had any of the feminine attributes a few cross dresser or transgender women had, so my path was often difficult.

As I became better at my feminine presentation, I began to think my dream was possible after all. I could even bet on it. For once, the optics of gender were working for me. Controlling the optics took a lot of work when I was rejected as a woman for so long. I would have pulled my chips back off the table and headed home. The big difference now was, I was able to outbluff others around me and stay in the game. I am sure no one mistook me as a cisgender woman, but on the other hand, no one was mistaking me as some sort of a bogus person trying to fool the public as a beginning drag queen. Betting on myself as an authentic person turned out to be the best move, I ever made in my life.

A good plan went a long way as I was able to carve out a new life in a relatively short time. I was not as shy as I was as a man and the world opened for me. After many false starts, success began to happen. I was staying out of my own way as a trans woman and letting my inner woman run my life.

I also learned where I was welcome to be a betting person in the world. For the most part, cisgender women accepted me in their world and let me play. Men, on the other hand, never wanted to bet me on anything. Which I quickly learned was not important to me after all. As long as other women validated me, that was all that mattered and again, my life improved.

Pushing my chips to the middle of my life’s gender table and betting I could make it to my dream I always wanted to live was all that mattered. Doing away with my conservative past helped me immeasurably during this portion of my life. I did not view myself as being any sort of courageous person. Just a person who had to do what she had to do to survive in a challenging world. The question became how fast I could learn the new rules of being a woman on my own terms. Decoding the difference between male and female privileges was the biggest challenge.

At that point, the betting game I was playing became closer to a game of mental gender chess. As an excuse, I kept telling myself I was not betting at all. Just playing the odds, I was right when it came to gender. When I expected I would make it as a transgender woman I did. I finally was right when I bet on myself.

 

 

 

 

 

Here Comes Tomorrow

 

My wife Liz, anniversary image.

Liz and I’s wedding anniversary was yesterday, and of course we had to go out and celebrate the event. It is actually our third anniversary after being together well over a decade.

Over the time I have written this blog, I hope I have not been short on trying to relay what my wife Liz has done for me. So much, as a matter of fact, she kicked me totally out of my closet, and showed me tomorrow was here. I could live a life as a transgender woman, finally free from my old male self. She was the direct opposite from my second wife who kept telling me there was no way she wanted to live with another woman. Liz told me she saw no male in me at all, and the rush was on to complete my male to female transition.

By the time all of this happened, and my second wife passed away, I was well into my sixties and had given up any hope of ever finding another serious relationship. Preferably with another woman who would accept me. As I always point out, to combat my severe loneliness, I was working the bar scene and even tried online dating which turned out to be a joke…until I met Liz. Or she met me. She responded to a “woman seeking woman” ad I put on a dating site and as luck would have it, she lived relatively close to me in Cincinnati. At the time she commented on the picture I used, saying I had sad eyes. Which I did, seeing as how I was going through the toughest time of my life. I had just lost my wife of twenty-five years as well as nearly all of the close friends I had to death as well as losing my business. I was grasping at any straw I could to stay afloat, sad eyes or not.

The only main straw I had was my sudden dependence on my strong inner feminine self. In a time of darkness, when my male self-had deserted me, she stepped up to provide the comfort and strength to move on. It was up to her to carve out a new life with new friends who had no previous contact at all with my old male self. Against all odds, in a sometimes-hostile world, she managed to do it, and my life slowly began to improve. With all the help and attention, I was receiving from my new ciswomen friends, I did not have to even give much of a second thought to the men who were afraid to approach me or just wanted to treat me as some sort of a fetish object. With my base sexuality settled again, it made it easier to feel secure in myself and move on with my male to female transition. Often it seemed my life was coming full circle and Liz was a major part of it.

During our anniversary dinner last night, we were fortunate that the venue was very empty without even the usual screaming kids so we could reminisce about our past and dream about the future. And of course, Liz took all the credit (as she always does) for reaching out to me first as a “woman seeking woman” post was an exceedingly rare response coming from any other women in those days. Plus, I was not shy in pointing out I was a transgender woman made my odds even more remote. If I received any responses at all, I felt like I had won the lottery of dating as a trans woman.

Because of Liz, I won the lottery for all the reasons I went into and more importantly, my gender transition which was always tomorrow became today. It was time to give away my remaining male clothes and follow Liz’s instructions on following my heart. A heart, it turned out, was feminine to start with and needed little to no encouragement to live. Regardless, when tomorrow finally came, it hit me hard and I needed time to adjust I really did not have. I needed to fall back on the decades of cross-dressing practice I had to feel more comfortable in the world. When I did, the joy of life I experienced was wonderful and even more so because I had someone special to share it with.

To be able to live the way I do still feels like a dream to me and Liz has helped me to realize my transfeminine dream more than anybody else ever did in my previous life.

Happy anniversary Liz and may we be able to celebrate many more together. And, thanks to all of you who have joined me in my journey. If you have not reached your tomorrow yet, keep trying. I am living proof it can still happen.

 

Home at Last

 

JJ Hart on left with wife Liz on right.

I know I start out too many posts with reference to exploring my mom’s clothes and makeup when I was very young, but I did. Even though I was caught in the thrill of the moment, I knew quickly that a couple things would be happening. The first of which was, I knew deep down I would not be escaping the urge I had to dress in girl’s clothes anytime soon. And the second of which was, I knew somehow, I wanted to do more than look like a girl and parade in front of a mirror, I wanted to experience the world girls around me lived in

All of this created severe stress and tension as I tried to internalize my thoughts. I daydreamed during any spare moment I had trying to figure out how I could live out my feminine dreams. I will forever wonder about how much quality life I lost when I was in another gender dimension. In fact, my daydreaming took me way into the years of my military service when I was able to take a spare moment and dream about living as I pleased as a transgender woman after I was discharged from military service. My biggest dream was to show off my new beautiful appearance in a new car in front of my former fiancé who rejected me when I came out to her. Just when I needed her the most. I can’t say any of that ever happened except in the dreams I kept alive in my mind.

Little did I know I was stuck on an extended trip as I was making my way back home. At that point, I had made it from my mom’s clothes, all the way to having a collection of feminine belongings I could take with me when I traveled, just in case I had the opportunity to make one of my rare public outings as a novice transgender woman. Home seemed as if it was a long way away.

I struggled to with the idea of giving up all together with being a male as I was building successes in a male world, regardless of myself. Every time I would have success in the world as a transfeminine person, my male self would come along and try to destroy her. It was frustrating and hard on my mental health to say the least and home at times looked so far away in the distance.

Another problem I had was I did not know where my true home was, and I went on several frantic searches to locate it. As I started to change jobs and move my family to different locations, I still could not find myself. I moved my wife all the way to the metro New York City area from Ohio, all the way back to very rural Ohio along the Ohio River to chase my tail. To no avail, I was attempting to chase a dream which in reality was so close to me. I could not see the forest for the trees. She was standing tall and proud in front of me the whole time.

Plus, I did not realize I never had the choice to live in the gender I preferred at all. Had I taken the time to really think about who I was and face the fact that I should have been a woman all along, it would have saved me so much turmoil in my life. It took me finally finding my gender home to do it. It all seems so simple to me now that I sometimes am ashamed to admit it. I was simply the same as so many other ciswomen in the world, I would have to face the same obstacles as they did, plus then some since I was transgender, I needed to be better. I would have to face tougher obstacles in being accepted for employment, education and other issues. But I knew all of that coming home, so I was ready.

Arriving home was such a relief when I finally arrived. The gender battle I always faced was done and my mental health improved. All the nights out when I was alone as a trans woman came back to help me because of all the lessons I needed to learn as I pursued my own womanhood.

Giving up on any idea of ever living as a man again freed up my inner woman to proudly show off the home she had built over the years. It was a long wait for her, around fifty to be exact, but she made it home.