Okay, to answer KarenLyn's question:
I heard about Christine Jorgenson. I wished I could do that, but was simultaneously revulsed. But I heard a voice inside myself say, "That's you."
The same thing happened when I saw Wendy Carlos on the Phil Donahue show. I knew that was me, although I didn't want to do THAT to myself.
Let's go back a little farther. Fifth grade, when the boys are segregated and watch a movie on playing volleyball (and the girls are watching the Disney-produced film on Menstruation.) Like the other boys, I heard about it secondhand. But me, being the intelligent brat, studied about it. I went to the library and, afraid of getting caught, searched out all the information I could. I tried to look at the knowledge I'd gained rationally. It's an inconvenience, at the very least. And for some women, a genuine health risk. I should be glad I'd never go through something like that. But I couldn't shake the idea that I'd go through THAT if only I could be female.
Or, going back even farther. My mother never lied to me about reproduction. From my earliest recollections, I always knew that babies came from the momma's tummy. I looked forward to the day I too could have a baby come from my tummy. Until my mom told me that, no, I couldn't do that. I had to be the daddy, and being the mommy wasn't easy and it hurt a lot when the baby came out of you. I was disappointed. It didn't matter. I was brave. I should be the mommy!
Too bad I was smart enough to understand that it wasn't up to me, or my parents, or anybody else. The choice of my role had been made irrevocably, and I would just have to live with it. I understood that. And, it sucked. But I dealt with it by burying it as deep as I could. And by hiding the true me when ever I managed to pop back out. Horrified, I'd stuff me back into the recesses. of my mind.
Those incidents were the indicators.
But, when they occurred, I. Just. Knew.
I hope this helps;
Karen