Here are some of my experiences
and general thoughts on growing up TS, starting transition, dealing with depression,
and all those things being Gender Gifted brings you before you are pointed
in the right direction. A work
in progress, as is everything in life.
"It's never too late to be
what you might have been." -
Boy Mode
I had two
sisters growing up. One two years
older, and one two years younger, along with a brother that was four years
younger than me. I can remember
quite distinctly playing "House" with my sisters, and wanting very
much to be the mom. They usually
disagreed with that, but there were times when I got to be the mom and I felt
pretty good about that.
I can
remember feeling jealous at First Communion, a Catholic rite of passage, and I
remember quite clearly the feeling of being envious of the girls in their
pretty white dresses. By that age I
knew quite well that a dress, no matter how much you wanted it, was not
something that I was to have, and I never mentioned my feelings to anyone.
Young Male Mode
As you become a young adult, two
things come into your life. Testosterone, and Girls. Girls are so very attractive to you, and
you think about them all the time.
This confuses you on some level, because although you want to be with them, you also want to be like them. Being like them also occupies much of
your thoughts, and although you like girls, the fact that you want to be like
them makes you wonder if you are really gay. Everything about them interests you,
attracts you. The
smell, the figure, the hair.
You are jealous, and desirous.
And confused about your feelings, as thing just
don’t add up.
Socially you may have girls that
are friends, but you just can't talk to them the way that you need. You may have a girlfriend, but your
desire to dress like her and wear makeup is not something you can divulge. If you do, it will most assuredly lead
to rejection and possible outing to the entire school. You may play sports and hang out with
the guys, ogle the girls, and do the “guy thing” quite well. Nobody suspects, and you survive.
You may be in denial of how you
really feel, convinced that because you like girls you can’t possibly
– can’t really – want to be one, too. You can not admit it, you can not
acknowledge it. To do so would be
to disappoint your family, your friends, your lover, and derail your life and
all the possibilities it holds.
You settle with the fact that
this is just something harmless, something to relax you and make you feel
good. It’s harmless, after
all, and doesn’t hurt anybody.
It’s also something that
never seems to go away, no matter how hard you wish to be “normal”,
or wish to be a girl. You go to
sleep at night and pray that, when morning arrives, that you will be a girl. You hope, as you try on your secret
stash, and admire that girl smiling back at you in the mirror, that someday
soon you’ll be able to go to school as a girl finally. To be yourself, to
interact with your friends, the world, finally, as yourself. Next week, perhaps.
Male Mode
Here you are, not dressed up and
everywhere to go. You want to get
out as yourself and "revel in the ordinary". Just drive, just interact, just be.
But the neighbors are out, the
streets are crowded, and you are paralyzed with the fear of discovery and
thinking how your world would come crashing down on you if someone you knew saw
you. And it's a very real possibility, too. So you stay up
late, waiting. Fearfully, you check
outside. With luck
it’s raining, or perhaps the cold of winter has kept the neighbors, and
the nighttime traffic, to a minimum.
If you aren’t fortunate, then it’s a nice summer night, and
everyone is out enjoying the very night you have free to yourself. So, with heart
pounding, you hurry to the car, your silhouette casting a shadow in the
moonlight. You make it to the car
unnoticed, you think, and drive away with only your parking lights on at
first. Once down the road it’s
safe to turn the headlights on. Every red traffic light gives you a
little panic, as you have no idea who may be next to you, who may read you as a
cross-dresser, and who may find it necessary to “correct” this
problem. So
you try your best to hit the green lights, and failing that, you try to make it
so that your car is half way between other cars, rather than door-to-door, with
your neighbor peering in, you fear, as you wait impatiently for the light to
change. With luck, nature did not
call, and you did not have to deal with the panic of finding a place to answer
that call. With luck
your night ends without a flat tire, without your car breaking down, without
getting seen, or read, or arrested.
Your family may not know about
the fact that you cross-dress, and they may not have found your stash –
as far as you know. Your wife may
know you cross dress, and doesn't really approve, but figures that it's not
worth losing the relationship over something that's basically
harmless, as long as nobody finds out, and you don't do something
"stupid". What she
doesn't know, and you hint at, is that the cross-dressing means more to you
than you let on, and deep inside you feel that you need to be a woman. Your
loved ones may not know at all, and the fear of them finding out is tremendous as you know in your heart they would leave you if
they knew.
The short times that you can
dress are relaxing, a break from the life you lead, a
life role that is increasingly uncomfortable for you. The pressures of being a husband and a
father has served the magnify your gender issues, and also
made it increasingly difficult to find those short times.
Dad Mode
Like most people, you want to marry
and have kids. Your maternal instinct
may make that need stronger, at the time, than your dreams of transitioning.
After all, you probably wouldn’t “qualify” anyway,
since you like women and want a normal family life.
And then you become a father.
You look on with jealousy at the
pregnancy, and in so many ways wish that you were in her place, experiencing
this miracle, this pinnacle of femaleness.
Then you child is being born, an incredible, beautiful miracle, and then
you’re kinda glad to
be on this end of things. :-)
Children may bring you great
joy, and in small moments of time, you get to be the mom, the nurturer, the
comforter to this precious child. People
may notice the special attention you give to your tiny baby, and think how
wonderful it is to see the dad helping with diapers, feeding and caring for the
child. You don’t mind, you
may not have even thought about it too much at first, it was just something
that needed to be done, and you did it. Moreover, you enjoyed it, too.
But you aren’t the mom. As the child grows, and perhaps more children
come, you are thrust more and more into the role
of dad, and that magnifies greatly this discomfort you have had your whole
life. You must be the husband,
because your wife and family needs that from you,
and you must be the dad, because your children need that aspect of you, too. You are caught between a family that you
love, children you adore, and an increasing need to get away from this role that you have grown into.
Every
male-gender oriented activity, place, interaction, or piece of clothing, doesn’t
fit with who you are. The thousands of little things that make
up your experiences every day, don’t fit, and are an affront to who
you feel you are inside. This
constant attack on your soul builds your depression, and feeds your incessant
"uncomfortableness" about this person that you portray.
Eventually you realize
that this male entity you project to the world is
just a shell, a character you play, and the maleness that you display is a
protection you’ve built up to shield yourself from anyone finding the
true you inside. We learn over
time what gives us rewards from our parents and society, and we close off
those parts of ourselves that don't get approval, and are
ridiculed and laughed at. It’s “shields up”, and
over time those shields become all that the world
sees of who we are.
_I_ thought that everyone
was like me when I was young, and couldn't understand how it was for others.
Finally, at 37 1/2 years old, I transitioned and began to live as myself
all the time. It hasn't always
been a bed of roses, but it did get to the point where I suddenly realized
that 'it' was gone - 'it' being that constant inner dialogue, that uncomfortableness,
those feelings that were with me my entire life were now no longer with
me. Those thousands of little
experiences that were coming my way per day were now okay. It fit. I liked who I was, and
I walked around with a smile on my face every day, and that person
smiling back at me in the mirror in the morning is really me.