Oh, did I ever try to play out the hand I was dealt. I thought for decades that I could get away with it and die with my deepest, darkest secret intact with nobody ever suspecting a thing. I didn't even allow myself to wear women's clothes until last year when I had my meltdown.
The problem was that this little thing that was just a whisper in the background when I was a kid turned into this thing that felt like it was constricting and clawing at my brain when I was 12. I learned to cope with it with denial and suppression, then later on, drugs, alcohol and overeating. When I was in my 20s it got worse. I stuck to my guns and I was still able to tough it out. In my 30s, during a very stressful time I overate, drank a lot and got quite large. Somehow, the moobs were somewhat comforting and losing weight wasn't the priority it should have been. I still thought there was really no way I was actually transgender. I told myself it was a passing thing I could get through, and I kept up the denial. Dysphoria levels were never constant and came in waves anyway. I started smoking a lot of weed and drinking even more as soon as I could afford to. I kept going through this horrible cycle until I had serious health problems that caused me to lose all of the excess weight. Then the dysphoria hit like a ton of bricks. I NEEDED to wear women's attire and be well, myself. It was very painful at times and I spent a lot of time crying in a fetal position with a teddy bear. I wanted that thing between my legs gone forever and to be seen by all as a girl, and knowing I probably could never do it made it worse. I didn't want to live like I was, but deep down I knew I didn't really want to die either. That little whisper had become a sad, angry woman screaming in my head and it just wouldn't go away anymore. My life became impossible to live as it had been, I was at the end of my rope and I got help. My therapist basically saved my life, pulled me out of the gutter and set me free. I'm also very grateful for my wife being so understanding and having the same shoe size as me.
If I had not got therapy and hormones when I did, I'm not sure I'd be here right now typing this. It seems most transsexuals are presented with 3 alternatives once the initial coping mechanisms fail: transition, be miserable and eventually go crazy or die. Nobody wants to be a transsexual, but it was certainly my best option and I'm glad I went there. I am happy for the first time in my adult life and I want nothing more than to run out the clock smelling the roses.
