Hi Elizabeth,
I'm 54 as well, so we're walking this earth at the same pace. That mattered to me as I read your words.
You wrote, "I have spent my whole life doing exactly that. Not being true to anyone else, or myself." That line stopped me because I know what it's like to live decades performing a role instead of living a life.
I want to say this gently but clearly: in the UK, the average life expectancy is about 81 years. If we're lucky, that gives us another couple of decades. You've already spent 54 of them carrying other people's expectations—worrying what they might think, keeping yourself small and hidden. Isn't it time to live for yourself?
I want to share something personal. A friend of mine knew she was trans—the way you know your own heartbeat. She always had a safe ear in me, no judgment, only care. But fear—of family, coworkers, neighbors, strangers—kept her silent. She would edge toward reaching out, then retreat again. Near the end, she finally began to open up. She died knowing who she was but still too worried about other people's impressions to live for herself. I don't ever want that for you.
Fear can feel protective, but its cost is highest of all. You've already done the hardest thing: you told yourself the truth. You said, "I am a woman," not "I want to be a woman." That isn't small—it's everything. And when doubt tried to pull you back into the shadows, you came here instead. That took real courage. You've shown that the woman who already lives inside you is stronger than the fear.
Lori Dee is right about therapy. Seeing a good, gender-literate therapist isn't about being broken; it's about finally seeing yourself clearly after years of looking away. The right therapist doesn't just listen—they create space for your whole story and help you breathe as yourself.
On my own path, I worked with several therapists who reached the same conclusion about who I am, but the ones who truly saw me changed my life far beyond any approval letter. They helped me stop running from myself and gave me practice speaking my truth out loud.
If you're uncertain where to start, your GP can refer you to gender identity services, or you can look into private options if NHS wait times feel too long. Either way, taking that first step of making an appointment is just that—one small step, not a commitment to any particular path.
Your wife calls you "her wife." She lets you wear her dresses. She laughs with you, not at you. That matters, Elizabeth. When you're ready for a deeper conversation, you may find more understanding waiting there than you expect.
Whatever you decide and however you move forward, please don't let fear steal the time you have left. You deserve mornings that begin in peace and days that feel like home in your own skin. You deserve to look in the mirror and recognize yourself without flinching—to live not only in borrowed moments, but throughout your life. Elizabeth deserves that—and so do you.
You're not alone in this.
With care,
— Susan
