Somebody Stop The train

In my last post, I talked about the transgender railroad train and how we all buy our tickets in different ways. I also mentioned my quest to fill the male role. It’s hard to be the man I was, even harder to be the man everyone expects me to be.

During the past couple of years it was easy to ride the train. I failed at being a man and I had a great excuse to the girl I always wanted to be. If you add my childhood experiences into the mix, transitioning was the best choice. It was the only choice.

Now I’m getting a second chance to be my assigned gender, I no longer have the failure excuse. If I can pull it off, it would make certain things easier. In the past, as a part time crossdresser, I went through binge and purge periods, but my wardrobe is too big now. I cannot purge. If I put everything away, it would be self-defeating. I lie on my bed screaming. I still need to be a woman.

There are so many strong women in the world; Ladies, who take care of their families, girls, who fill both roles. Why can’t I do the same? I’m caught between worlds. The girl I once was wants so badly to live her life. The boy wants to do the right thing. I can’t have both. I don’t want to be a part time crossdresser.

With tears in my eyes I stand here, at the station, begging for the train to stop and let me back on. Please conductor grab me, put me on the train and never let me off. Yes, I’m afraid of failing again. Yes, I crossed over. I’m a woman, trying to be a man. I want to escape in a cloud of estrogen and never look back, but there are people there. Those who expect me to be him are counting on me.

The male side of me placed all his skinny clothes in boxes, during the time he put on weight. The expectation of wearing them again was always there. Now he will put all his fat clothes in boxes, but he never wants to wear them again. Maybe he should just give them away. What do I do with my gender specific clothes? If I put them in boxes, I would expect to wear them again. If I can’t wear them again maybe I should give them away?

This is my quandary. I stand at the crossroads. I can no longer straddle the line. I should do what is best for me, but is that the best thing? These are questions asked by thousands of others on the train. I’m not the first, nor will I be the last. For now, I’m climbing back on the train.

 

Stepping Off the Train

A post on Facebook made me think the other day. A beautiful trans woman said she’d jumped off the train for a couple of days to get some things done. I’ve seen others refer to their journey as a train ride, before.

The image of a transgender railroad train coming into the station and picking up passengers is an accurate one. I think most of us "older ladies" can remember a time when we lay in bed at night, listening to the far off train whistle and not being able to find the station.

It happened each time we looked at a mail order catalog and admired the pretty, gender exclusive clothes. We heard the whistle each time we saw our sister’s panties, in the backyard, drying on the clothesline.

The way we bought our ticket varies with each person, but we all climbed onto the train at some point in our life. Some of us jumped off, only to climb back on later. Some of us jumped off and on, trying to fight our feelings, resolving to be the gender we were born with. After a while the distant train whistle beckoned, and we bought another ticket.

Some of us were blessed with the good sense to accept who were are and stayed on the train. Each time the train pulled into the station, they welcomed the rest of us back.

At first that train had a steam locomotive, now, a fission reactor is pulling the train. The train will never stop.

There are stations in diverse places, some destinations involve GRS, FFS, and complete transformation. Hopefully, those stations lead to happiness for you. Other places lead to suicide. PLEASE, DON’T GET OFF AT THOSE STATIONS.

Recently, I jumped off the train. I don’t want to talk about the reasons, but suffice it to say, I was give a second chance, a "do over", and I’m trying, once again, to fill the role. I still hear the train whistle, however.

I’m so happy for Jennifer Bryant, Sue Lighten, Krista Ann, and so many others. They finally have their ticket punched, they are reaching their destinations.

Here’s to those who continue to cross the line with no intentions of surgery. Ladies like Kimberly Huddle, Stanna Stanna, Crysti Hart, to name only a few. I love you ladies. Your beauty and courage surpass my ability to compliment. I’m jealous of your success, although it breaks my heart to think about the struggles you’ve had.

When I think of Diva Las Vegas, Southern Comfort, Krista’s pool party, or any pride happening, my soul cries out. Those kinds of events didn’t exist when I began to understand myself, some forty-something years ago. Never the less, I will always be drawn to that camaraderie. Not to mention being who I am, and not the lie of male counterpart.

So I am rejoining the journey. I’m giving myself every opportunity to succeed as a male. Somehow, this post feels like a eulogy. If it is, I will love each of you forever. If it’s not, I’ll be seeing you. Even as I write this, I’m planning a trip to the wig shop. Save a place for me at Diva 2015. I have a feeling I’ll be back.

Okay, I can’t do this. I’m going to leave my clothes hanging in the closet . . . well, wish me luck and remember I love you all.