I ask myself what brought me to this point, but there is no one event, no smoking gun to point to as evidence of a grave error in my gender makeup.
In my previous post, I wrote about the possibility of succumbing to pressures beyond my ability to overcome. In the time I’ve been writing this blog, I’ve whined, and whined, whined, and whined. Anybody who read it, must’ve wanted to slap me.
The truth is, everybody suffers. In every life, uncertainty raises its ugly head. We all fall short of our own expectations. In my life, as in many of yours, I went through cycles. There were times when my transgender soul came out and threatened to upturn the checkerboard.
At other times, I managed to put those urges into a box under lock and key, but they never went away. I cannot continue the cycle. It is time to bring myself into the fresh air. I’ve concluded there is no good time to come out. Shit will hit the fan no matter how much damage control I might try.
I wore panties and camisole under my male clothes to work the other day. As always it felt great to express my transgender soul, although in stealth. What I didn’t realize was the lace fringe on the top of my camisole showed under my button shirt. After I went home, my wife faced me with an issue. She glanced at my chest and saw the lace.
She reached for it, asking what it was. I nudged her out of my room and closed the door. It was abrupt, and a little rude on my part, then afterward, I kicked myself for not telling her the truth. I read other blogs and marvel. Many of my heroes have relationships of understanding, or they have partners who don’t object for one reason or another. I want that to be me.
I know, however, it could never happen. After sacrificing companionship on the altar of Gender Dysphoria, I think the rest of my life will be a solitary experience. Ironic isn’t it? The one thing we perceive to bring happiness in our lives, only serves to condemn us.
One of my Christmas gifts, (Merry Christmas, by the way.) was a book called The Art of Manliness. No kidding, I stared at the giver and wondered if there was a hidden agenda in giving it. I have currently not come out to this person. I doubt if they know anything, but later, he asked if my chain was a “gangsta chain”.
I took offense, and asked why I can’t just wear a chain, or something like that. I remember being offended, because, to me, my chain is a feminine expression. The butterfly is a transgender symbol and that was under attack.
It might be difficult for me to come out to some people. Anyway . . .
There is a bright side. Happiness is internal. It is also perpetual. People are attracted to happiness and happy people. By extension, if transition and SRS, relieves the pain of Gender Dysporia, my path to happiness has been paved. I can be happy if I choose to be. Then, my happiness will attract others. I won’t be alone.
So, smile. It’s a new day. I choose to be happy. There are many obstacles in the path to SRS. Not the least of which, is money, but I’m going to finish the journey. Yes, sweetie, you are a girl and you should’ve done this years ago.
