Back to Baby Steps

Did you ever notice that life is a dishonest prizefighter? I hope your life has been problem free, but just when the rest of us get squared off to fight the good fight, life throws a sucker punch. Then, while we try to overcome the first impact, life lands a knockdown blow.

I had a setback this week. I got into another car wreck. It was the proverbial straw on an already strained camel’s back. Adding to my distress, I got the distinct impression someone was either out to get me, or they were pushing me in another direction. Let me explain,

My transgender story is a lot like most others. There were incidents and feelings in childhood, that told me I had a female mind. I wrote about my Barbie doll addiction on another blog. I remember one day in particular, when at fourteen, I shaved my legs and begged to be female. I thumbed through the JC Penny catalog, shopping for beautiful clothes I would wear as a girl. If I’d been from a richer family then, or if I had other resources, my life might’ve been different.

At eighteen, however, I gave up my wish and tried to fill the masculine role. Since my body was male, I felt I needed to play the cards I was given. I still had recreational cross-dressing to keep me sane. I dated women, but I was mostly impotent. When I married, I assumed the role of husband and provider. My wife assumed the conventional woman’s role and it was my job to take care of the problems, and us.

At first, I gave up cross-dressing, but the desire returned. There were long periods of time between dress and purges, but it felt good when I dressed. I used crossing the line to deal with stress, and managed to keep my feminine expression under control, but I never told my wife about it.

Then about ten years ago, everything hit the fan, things started to fall apart. With one setback after another, stress and problems piled up. Coping became impossible, so I didn’t. Things got worse, and I ignored it all.

I make no qualms about it. I failed in the masculine role. I lost the battle of manhood. I began to dress more frequently, and the dress and purge periods were fewer. Failures seemed small in the shadow of buying a new bra.

As more problems came up, I began to dress almost daily, ignoring my problems. I escaped into a world where I was beautiful. I knew my gender assignment from birth would eventually force me to cope, but I also realized that society expects men to deal with problems that sometimes eat them up, but a woman can rely on a man to help her.

During that time, I remained in the closet. I self identified as a heterosexual (probably should’ve been non-sexual) cross-dresser, and started a blog. Incidents from my life, when my gender was in question began to surface. I analyzed each one, and the prospect of transition, long since abandoned, came back into my thinking. You can read about some of that in my previous blog.

Then, I watched a feminization assurance video on the Internet, and realized it made me smile. I hadn’t smiled like that in years. The possibility that I could actually be a woman and get rid of my male life made me giddy. I was excited about something for the first time in who knows how long? I started a new blog, and began to call myself transgender. I started taking baby steps, then bigger steps, toward SRS. I’ve been dealing (not coping), since.

I’ve been happy, though, until the car wreck added another setback. My car was hit from behind, sending a shuddering jolt through my body, and it felt personal to me. Adding insult to injury, the insurance company totaled my vehicle for less than it would cost to replace it. As a man, having my own vehicle was always a symbol of manhood, a mark of my independence.

So, you say, what’s to worry? Didn’t you want to be a woman anyway? Well, yes, however . . . I can’t explain it, but since the wreck and the personal setback it caused, I wonder if a higher power, or a dead relative, is trying to send me a message. Something like, man-up kid, give up the idea of being a girl.

And I wonder, how do genetic women, who don’t rely on a man, cope with problems and setbacks? I need to deal with my problems. I need to find a comfortable compromise. I still look to SRS as the Holy Grail (so to speak). I honestly feel, I would be better off as a woman, but when I think of how that might effect my family, I feel terribly selfish.

After all, I am the one who entered into the agreement to love, honor, cherish, and cope. I think there are too many transgender folks who don’t stop to consider the implications of their personal decision. They run headlong into transition like a Vulcan in Pon farr. Do you like the Star Trek reference, there?

With that being said, I wonder how many M2F ladies got into this because of societal expectations of the masculine entity. Like me, how many of them felt they couldn’t measure up? As for me, I’m still in transition, but I’m back to baby steps. I’m not getting any younger, but there are others to consider.

When I think of that fourteen-year-old, who begged to be a girl, I feel cheated, somehow. Still, there have been good times. Perhaps there is merit in letting children transition, but with the large number of them making those choices, I sometimes question the reality of their feelings.

Such is life in our modern society. May your path be easier to travel.

Love Francine