That's what happened to me.
The breaking moment? It was two years of carefully 'getting out' and self examination (and other 'ignored' indicators of my life which were blocked out for years, and uncovered in therapy), visiting the TS discussion group my therapist ran, and finally realizing that this is 'not going away, and is very real". Tortured and engaged by the new path sitting right in front of me..one night it had built to an angry head. I took a two o'clock walk in the morning through my 'hood. All I could remember myself saying was: "I gotta do this..I
have to do this...I have to get through this" I cried like hell on that walk. I was totally frustrated..did not know how the hell I was going to accomplish this feat, but I came home resolved. I'll never forget that walk. At two am..I wrote my closest friend in England.
My little brother was next. I said to him..'hey..I'm going through a sex change'..to which he replied..'wow, okay..well, uhh..good luck with
that. He has worked to guard over and protect me ever since.
I began working outward from there, secretly building my support circle one person at a time, starting with the ones I
knew would not reject me (my father threatened to move of the home he built..to Canada!). I saved all the known a-holes who would be difficult toward me (for months or a year later), for after several protective circles were ringed about me.
HRT was next. I nervously started hormones, wondering how I'd ever pay for all this. I then freaked out when I got a lucrative job on a very popular national tv show..hired as male..(with quickly developing breast buds). Were it not that I had to wear a kevlar vest whenever working, I would have been outed and fired ASAP. Lucky for me, I was able to find a ladies medium vest in the production office (lol, trim and sexy, and never used by anyone, or sweated in by dudes!)..and hide in my hotel room for the ten weeks. I was never to be seen without the protective covering of that damn vest. That part was really tense. I scored the cash to move onward. I got the hell out of there.
I got offered (as a male) a full time job (salary/benes) at a very protective place. I finally saw the way. I was now an unbridled fire about to burn like magnesium. I was in the catbird's seat ~ in charge of my transition and my identity,
finally. I had my three-piece pressed for the last time in my life. I wore that damn thing for the interview, jokingly told them to get a good look (amongst quizzical responses)..and took the job.
Very soon, my boobs were plainly showing. I had already donned their trimmer and sexier female styled work shirts, six months earlier (I had keyed access to the uniform cabinet!). I subsequently got told by my workmates I had the female shirt on..(who began wondering/gossiping and candidly asking my lesbian friends for my alternate name) to which I readily replied, "I know, it really fits and feels great!". They just laughed rolled their eyes.
Then my name change got approval from the courts. The new task was instructing my employers on how they are to handle this, and then staying the hell out of the way while every one absorbed this news. I felt that they were relieved, because everyone was already wondering for a year..what my issues actually were.
But yes, sorry about the life story (I love to type)

..but that walk was surely a break over point. It was a pinnacle, and decisive moment.