Online Therapy

I am prompted to write this by K-Po, to give her some feelings.  I haven’t written a post with very many feelings in it for a little while because I have been still analyzing what the Life and Sickness History for my shrink brought out.  I was forced by this questionnaire to chronologically document my gender dysphoric feelings.  It was rather difficult to piece together and difficult to say when my first thoughts of inconsistent gender came about.

I have certain memories that stick out in my mind from my childhood.  I remember bathing with my sister Jen when we were young enough to bathe together.  I remember sitting in the tub with her opposite me, and wondering why what I had between my legs was different from her.  I can visually remember what her vagina looked like, but I don’t remember what my penis looked like.  Bear in mind these memories are over thirty years old, so they are a bit shaky.

When I was in the hospital to have my adenoids removed, I wished that they would come and get me while I was sleeping in my hospital bed and change me into a girl.  I wanted to be a ballerina with all the graceful movements.  I was so happy about my bicentennial costume that it included a body suit.  Body suits are what ballerinas wear.  Some time after the bicentennial, the costumes from my sisters were in garbage bags along with other goodwill clothes stored under the cellar stairs.  I remember Jen and me going through the clothes and me trying to figure out how to make her want to put a dress on me.

I realized that I have wanted to be a girl since my early childhood.  I have had that thought in my head for as long as I can remember.  I have thought about it at least for a couple of seconds every day for most of my life.  I have always hated and been ashamed of my body.  I always felt uncomfortable showering with other males in locker rooms.  My body has never been very muscular, no matter how much I worked out, and I have always been relatively thin.  I wasn’t happy with my physical development in puberty, as my development was somewhat slower than others my age.  I have always been envious of other girls and women because what they take for granted is something that I have always yearned for.  I would wake up in the morning wishing I was someone else.  I don’t hate myself for being born male; I just never wanted to be male.

I remember many times over the years the thoughts I would have when I was working with something dangerous.  I often wondered how I could damage my penis with it so that they couldn’t repair it, and there would be no other choice but to give me a vagina instead.  It would all have to seem like an accident of course.  I would then be allowed, for good reason, to be female.  I could simply explain the change away on an industrial accident.  Warped logic, thankfully I never put such a plan into action.  I have read in a book that Allison had, that this type of thought is common among transsexuals.

This next part is sexual in nature, and therefore may be too much for some.

I remember fantasizing while I was having anal sex for the first time in my early teens that I was being penetrated in my vagina.  I wondered if it that was how it would feel if it were in my vagina.  Repeated times over the following years I had flings with gay men, because I knew they wanted to penetrate me.  It never worked out because they wanted me as a man instead of my preferred role as female.  The guys I have met that wanted me because I was Trans were some creepy people.

I purged my clothes several times throughout the years, promising myself to stop this shameful nonsense of wanting to be female.  The first time was when I moved away to college.  I was moving from my father’s to my mother’s house thirty miles away.  I left my female clothes, which consisted of things my sisters were getting rid of, in between my mattress and box spring.  My father threw the old mattresses out and must have seen my stash.  He never mentioned anything about it, and I wonder why.  I think that was a cry for help from me and not a mistake.  The next time was when I moved to Detroit, I left all the clothes and shoes in a closet and told Jen they were from an old girlfriend, and that she could go through it all and decide what she wanted.  Another cry for help.  The next time was when Yollie found my stash.  That ruined my relationship with her, and I didn’t want to ruin any more, so I got rid of it once and for all.  After that, I only cross dressed when I went to visit family and went to visit Rita in Boston.

I seriously started thinking about the possibility of transition in 1993 after having met Rita and the rest in Boston.  At that point, the scene I was involved with was really seedy and negative.  It all seemed so dangerous, not to mention that most of the Trans women I met were prostitutes.  I knew I was Trans but didn’t want to become a prostitute to realize my dream.  I thought that was the only possibility for a Trans woman.  I had no way to know that the possibility of having a normal life after transition even existed.  That is the impression I had about transition, and therefore decided not to pursue it.  It was only when I started to research it on the internet, that I realized that there are people out there like me that are trans that are not sex workers.  This knowledge made the difference for me to again consider transition.

I wish that I had said something to my parents about this early on, but I am not sure that back then I would have been allowed to transition.  To be female is something I have always wanted.  I have always tried to fit in with my male brethren, never really feeling like I did, or even wanted to.  It was expected of me, and everything that I was supposed to be was relentlessly drilled into my head by my father.  Be more aggressive he would say.  Yep, he’s my one and only, he would tell people.  I loved my father, he meant well.

I’m sorry that not everyone can understand my drive to do this.  I can only try to substantiate my feelings in words that fail to describe what I believe I have always felt inside.  I am sorry the words I write are not enough to make people believe, but what is important is that I believe it because I have been living it for all my life.  I am sorry this has hurt everyone around me.  I am sorry I have wasted people’s time with dishonesty about how I truly feel inside because I was ashamed.  I have a much better self understanding now because I finally dared to try to make sense of years of feelings that I didn’t want to deal with.  It was easier to keep them out of sight, hidden deep in my mind.

In proofreading this, I realized that I may or may not have already touched on a lot of these subjects in depth in other posts over the past several months.  I realized that I am trying to defend my position to K-Po, which at this point is pointless.  I am sorry things turned out the way they did, and you may never forgive me, but I am doing what I feel I must do.  I do not take lightly the lives I have fucked up with this.  I wish it didn’t have to be this way.  I feel used too, but I’m not keeping score.

My long post about my trip home over Xmas may read a bit mechanical, but I wanted to get at least the sequence of events down while they were still fresh in my mind.  I still am pondering the past four weeks and want to write about how I feel about this time when I fully understand it.  I realized I have probably done some stupid things, and I want to think about and understand what drove me to do something stupid so I don’t do it again.  Also, reading one entry in my blog does not constitute a full comprehension of the way I feel.  To gain a good feel for what I have worked through, I recommend reading the first couple of months of my blog.  Or to give me a call so we can discuss…