Feeling it

There are times when I’m wearing the right outfit. My makeup looks great and my walk is just right. I feel so pretty and feminine, I love being a girl. There are other times, when I look like a cow and I wonder if transition is even possible, let alone the right thing for me. (I’ve gotta stop looking in the mirror until I get further along this train ride.)

Last night I was feeling it. I loved my outfit, and I loved being me. There are so many feelings I haven’t had since childhood and transition is helping me feel those things. I’m so happy when I think about second chances. I’m anxious to see a therapist and get started on HRT.

I hope you feel it too. I also hope you had a great holiday. Love Francine

PTSD Bringing out the Woman

I watched a transgender MTF being interviewed on the news the other day. She talked about her reasons for transition and I noticed a common thread running through her story. I’ve read many biographies of transgender women, and that thread was there.

There are exceptions, and some won’t admit it, but many of us failed in our masculine roles. As for me, I feel I can’t be a man anymore. I just can’t measure up to expectations. I’m not sure what being a woman will do for me, but there is a lot of appeal in fulfilling the traditional role of housewife.

Oh, sure, we all talk about our childhood, and how we longed to be girls, but I’ve noticed that most of us who transition later in life, talk about triggers (although we don’t call them that). There was something that made life unbearable as a man and pushed us into remembering the comfortable feminine role.

Most of us have been cross-dressing since childhood, so it’s not about the clothes. It’s about the warm feeling of joy we remember from those days, before we were forced into a masculine role. We lament the natural way our lives should’ve played out. I admire those who’ve had it both ways. With an understanding spouse, they successfully cross back and forth. They found happiness in both roles.

Getting back the trigger, and some of our feelings of failure, I’ve noticed a great many of my sisters served in the military. Could it be a provoking factor?

While watching a documentary about ex-soldiers with post-traumatic stress disorder, I realized I have some of those same symptoms. Mine, were caused by working for many years, under the thumb of an overbearing, abusive manager. Then being fired from that career job. Not as drastic as war, but I think that was my trigger.

I wonder if PTSD was a trigger for a lot of transgender veterans. If I got PTSD from being the whipping boy of a manager, I wonder how many of my veteran sisters got it also? My boss managed people like a drill sergeant trains, well, you get the point.

Keep it in mind, however, that I might not know what I’m talking about.
Like the woman on the news, I was born with uncertain genitals. Erectile dysfunction plagued my teenage years, and never went away. I wanted to be a girl, and I wanted to be seduced by them. Yes, my dysphoria or discombobulation is real, so is that of my sisters, but I wonder what their trigger was.

Oh, ladies . . . and gentlemen. We are embarking on a new life. The possibilities are endless. I hope and pray, all of you will find peace because I love you.

Love Francine

Small Victories & A Few Steps Backward

Have you noticed how gradual transition really is? Coming out of the closet is hard, especially for us older ladies. We have a whole life of stereotypical prejudice to overcome. Many of us remember when cross-dressing was a crime.

We make goals and convince ourselves we have every right, but the past ideas slip in and incapacitate our expression. I was writing in a coffee shop, late one night, dressed partially en-fem. I wore my aqua camp shirt, men’s jeans, and ankle socks under penny loafers. No makeup, and no wig.

I also wore bracelets on both arms, and a necklace with a heart shaped pendant. As time went on, my bracelets began to come off. Well, to be honest, I hate typing on my laptop with them banging on the table. I left my LGBT friendship band on.

On a side note, I braided six strands of cord into a friendship band for two reasons. I’m transgender, and proud of the T. Also, I’m curious. As I take steps to transition, I wonder if I will be a lesbian woman, attracted to men, or totally non-sexual. Wearing the bracelet with the red, orange, yellow, green, blue and violet strands is an invitation and an experiment.

Anyway, there I was, working on one of my books and two policemen walked in. What did I have to be worried about? I felt pretty in my semi-feminine attire, but seeing them brought up all the old fears. One of the officers even stared. I looked him in the eye and smiled. It’s easy to do, when the officers are young enough to be my grandchildren. After a few minutes, though, my self-conscious fears took over and I removed the bracelet.

Last week, I went to the coffee shop dressed in leggings, ballet slippers, and a big shirt. Under that, I wore a bra and I always wear panties. I was proud to be trans. I still am, even though I took off my bracelet.

Transition is a gradual thing, and I’m happy for small victories. Such things as wearing my camp shirt with the buttons on the left side. I’m looking forward to, after seeing a therapist, when I live full time as the woman I long to be. For now, though, I straddle two worlds, hoping for an easy transition and knowing it won’t happen that way.

In light of the subject and title of this post, I should mention the Trans Day of Remembrance. As you know, human beings are being murdered. In that way, things have not changed, we have no victory, small or otherwise.

The bigoted selfish reasons for these crimes are probably based on fear. I think the perpetrators have desires that scare them to death. I’m not saying that cross-dressing, transgender, or being gay is for everybody. I certainly don’t want to inflict those things on others, but acting out in hatred toward those who follow those feelings is not acceptable. Killing or just hurting others will not make your inclinations go away.

While I’m ranting, why do others wish everyone followed the same groove? Diversity in the human race makes us individual. Not every manly man is into sports. Not every democrat is pro gun control, and not all women dream of knights in shinning armor.

Allowing diverse lifestyles in your midst does not constitute acceptance. To borrow a page from your book, Jesus hated the sin, but loved the sinner. Moral issues should never be legislated. Freedom of choice is a birthright. Let others choose for themselves and stop trying to put them into your mold.

Even though I don’t abide your hate, I still love you.

Still, there is something to be grateful for on this Trans Day of Remembrance. There was a time, when in certain parts of this country, people like me just disappeared. As soon as word got out about the sissy boy, he was gone.

           

Trans What?

Before beginning this skateboard ride, my direction faltered. I had no goals, and flaking out was my normal routine. Life was hard, but taking steps toward transition has given me something to look forward to. It sounds strange, but I’m feeling better about myself.

Maybe it has something to do with being true to my deeply hidden feelings. I’m working at being the girl I’ve always wanted to be. Transition has helped me set goals. I’m moving forward.

This post comes at the tail end of a current battle with self-doubt. There was the usual self-recriminating questions, how could I do this to my family? Etc. That was followed by, stand up and be the man you were born to be. The truth, as I reminded myself, is I failed. I would rather finish my life as a transgender woman, than attempt the fast lane of manhood again.

Yes, I’m messed up, but overcoming my male ego while relearning my life, makes me happy. Of course, I still flake out and try to ignore responsibilities, but I’m coming to terms with that, too. I’m getting a grip on myself and preparing to fly at the same time.

There is a lot of truth displayed in the Transgender symbol above. Indeed, I feel like the caterpillar I once was, emerging into a butterfly. The one who was destined to fly before gender became an issue, and I was forced into a male role.

As I implied, I’ve been thinking about what I will say when I reveal my plans to my family. "You are trans . . . what?" they will say. I’ve downloaded a pile of literature that will explain more than I know, but I’m going to move slowly. My life is like a house of cards and it will collapse in the face of the slightest jostle.

For now, I feel comfortable in my personal knowledge, but I have started wearing colors I never would’ve worn in the fast lane of manhood. My daughter might question my sexuality at some point, but that’s okay. I’m reinventing my life. Eventually I’ll be an old woman, but for now, I’m learning how.

Love, Francine