As my sig indicates, I had a "melt down" earlier this year which was the precursor to my second tilt at transition. Spent two weeks off work with depression and it took at least another two weeks before I started feeling alright again... in that time I acknowledged to myself my denial of my gender dissonance was slowly eating away at my heart, outed myself to my boss and a work colleague, decided on my new name and that it was "transition or bust"... that finally it was time live the life I've been refusing myself for way too long.
The trigger for the melt down was a "straw that broke the camel's back" moment, so apparently meaningless in any other (cis*) context and yet it was an emotional battering ram that only served in hindsight to expose how fragile my sense of gender identity was.
Since my first attempt at transition I had spent a lot of time trying to come to terms with myself as a biological male. And I had managed to do that fairly well. I no longer hated myself, no longer hated my body... it wasn't the body I would wish for but I was no longer ashamed of it. At that physical level I had replaced self loathing with a degree of self peace and acceptance. In my working life I found employment were there were a lot of women, I could form good working relationships with (most of) them but never got too close. At a social level I became gradually more introverted, I had a small circle of friends of mixed gender where the guys weren't macho and the gals were happy to chat with you. Without realising it I lived my preferred gender through a cornucopia of female characters in my writing and art, they were a tether to the world I wanted to live in. And then there were the sexual fantasies, which I won't go into any detail except to say they involved me as a female protagonist and increasingly became the only way I could feel alive. All these factors were in play and growing in intensity over the last few years but since I was in denial about my gender identity they were the only way I could keep on keeping on. Even when it became evident to me and I hated it I didn't want to change it because it would means losing any vestiges of female identity I felt I had, house of cards that it was.
At work I had increasingly started to think of myself as one of the girls. There were only a few other guys, only one of whom I got along well with. I did yoga classes with the women, went out on group lunches with them and just generally felt I fitted in... an "honorary woman". As we work in an old building with a few single cubicle toilets dotted around, the loos were all unisex... no need for single sex after all. Until that day in February when a "women" sign went up on the loo in my immediate working area, and wow I just couldn't think straight. Apparently a couple of new women had said to the (new male) supervisor that they felt there should be a women's toilet and without any consultation with the rest of staff, lo, we had a women's toilet. Most of the other women couldn't understand the need for it but said nothing. When I complained to that supervisor I was "just a bloke" so it was discounted. I wanted to rip the sign down and tear it into a million pieces. That stupid piece of cardboard pretty much screamed at me "actually you AREN'T one of the girls, you idiot!!!!" It was the straw.
Can I interrupt this recent flashback with one from a loooong time ago? When I was 11 I went on my first school camp. There were boy/girl dorms and shower/toilet blocks (of course!). Having to sleep in a dorm with a bunch of boys was bad enough, showering with them was way worse. Obviously I couldn't shower with the girls although I wanted to. But I actually found a private shower cubicle, part of the boys block but separate from the group cubicles, and would shower there at odd times to avoid the majority of the boys, even (especially?) friends. That plan came unstuck on the second last day when, due to some evening activity we were all expected to be showered by dinner and the block was a mass of naked boys, my preferred hide away cubicle was occupied with a line of other boys already banked up. There was no choice but the group cubicles. Showering with the boys was pretty much one of the most humiliating experiences of my life (and I've had a few). Having reached puberty earlier than all the others I was called out on my pubes and laughed it. I know it happens to all early bloomers, boy or girl, gay or straight, cis or trans, but jeez it was horrible. All I wanted to do was get the hell out of there and die. It reinforced my aversion to being lumped in with the boys/men (so naturally, one year later I got sent to a boys only high school...)
I mention that flash back because during my February melt down I was emotionally back on that camp again, I had been lumped in with the men and it was intolerable. I knew there was no way I could properly explain my feelings about the unisex toilet without having to explain my gender issues and my past, and when I started thinking stupid self harm thoughts as the only solution I knew I needed medical help immediately. Fortunately my doctor was available and, as a gay man, he was also incredibly supportive and quickly arranged help for me, gave me time off work, etc. I felt so stupid explaining I was depressed because of a unisex toilet but he wasn't judgemental and helped me realise I'd been drifting for a long time into a storm of gender dissonance and this was just the circuit breaker. Without it I would probably still be sliding further down that dark hole of denial.
So "yay" for horrible experiences, I guess
sometimes they can be the best thing that ever happens.
(PS, yes that stupid sign is still there... I actually use that loo when no one is around anyway, lol!)
