When I tell somebody that I am transgender. I can only imagine what some people think. Most people are very understanding and are glad that I can express myself in a way that makes me happy. Others, I am afraid are not so nice.
I am afraid they assume things that I wish I could explain to them differently. Take for instance my dad's first reaction. The first words out of his mouth, when he found out I was trans, were, "You have to learn to control your urges." When I heard him say this I was completely dumbfounded. I didn't even know what to say. I mean I was fully prepared to explain everything he may needed to know about being trans. Just not that. "Urges" what urges was he talking about? I tried to explain to him , that he had the wrong idea, but he just kept on repeating the same thing, "you have to learn to control your urges" . I thought oh my god does he really think this is some sort of sexual perversion? I thought again, "urges" If only he knew, it is anything but urges. My god if anything there was a lack of urges. But that's for another post another day.
The other issue I think people must think about is: Why did I get married, why did I wait so long to come out ? If this was something that I knew about as early as 5 or 6 years old, Why didn't I inform my wife about it before we were married? I have even heard it said, even here on Susan's that , not informing a person's wife prior to marriage is in the least breaking the marriage vows.
There are many different situations here on Susan's and many different answers to the questions as well. I say these things to be helpful to others as well as the fact that they have proven to be somewhat therapeutic for me. Here is my story.
I was born smack-dab in the middle of four boys and one girl. The girl being the youngest. My family was a very religious one. I knew about my feelings of being trans as far back as 5 or 6 years of age. Though being in my family I felt it best to keep that hidden away. At that time in my life, growing up with this issue bothered me allot. I often prayed to god, not to let me feel this way. School was particularly hard on me. I did so poorly and had such a difficult time socializing. It got to the point where I spent most of the time wandering around town instead of going to school. At one point my mother decided to take me to school herself and walk me to my first period. That only worked for first period. After the bell rang I simply walked off campus. I was so dysfunctional my parents gave up on me and pulled me out of school. They were supposed to home school me but decided to put me to work at the family business instead. By the time I was sixteen I had learned to accept myself as transgender. Though I still kept it secret. Because I started work early in life I was able to save up enough to buy my first Porsche at sixteen, a couple years old but still pretty nice. By seventeen my income was such that I was on my second Porsche and getting well known around town as a "bad boy". I knew I was not even close to the person my parents wanted me to be and I wanted very much to prove that to them. Cocaine was the drug of chose back then (1979-80) and there seemed to be a good supply of it as long as one could afford it. By then it was clear amongst our family , I was the "bad apple".
Every night my friends and I did the same things. Got drunk, snorted a few lines and cruised the boulevard for chicks. I don't really know why we did this as it never panned out. Most times we went home empty handed. On the rare occasion we did meet up with some girls that would put out. It never worked out for me. I could never, let just say,"rise for the occasion. I tried to have a girl-friend once, that didn't work out either, I had the same problem with her.
So I gave up on trying to be normal. I had a friend ,who was gay, from the bay area in California. I was in the process of talking him into letting me come live with him and start a business up in that area together. I figured since I didn't fit in around my town, or with my family, I would venture off to a different kind of life.
As john Lennon once said: "Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans".
I was almost eighteen then. I was on my way home one night. It was about 9 or 10 o'clock . We lived just outside of Palm Springs in a country club. If anyone knows anything about Palm Spring, well it is in the middle of the desert, and back then it was even more so. The last four miles from my house was just a long straight desert road. With no stop signs and hardly any houses on it. In fact it was rare at that time of night to meet any cars on the road. I loved to drive fast on that last stretch. Being young and having the cars that I did, I think , helped me to develop the indestructible image I had of myself. About one mile from my house, I was going about 120 mph, and out from a small side street comes a man running across the road. By the time he appeared in my lights, I swerved, but it was too late. I can still remember it, as if it happen last night. Out from the desert a man runs out into the middle of the street and when he gets directly in front of my car, he stopped turned and just looked at me. My car came to a stop out in the desert somewhere. I was covered in blood. I was able to get out of my car though it was a mess. It looked like a truck had hit it. I remember thinking,"how could this be so"? But I guess that is what happens at that high rate of speed. I ran to the street and looked back where the accident had taken place and there was a small pile of what used to be a person laying in the middle of the road . I felt so terrified and so alone. I could bring myself to look at the lump that was once a human being. I saw off in the distance a set of lights approaching. It seemed like it took forever to arrive. It finally did, I didn't explain anything to him, he just seemed to know what to do. As it turned out he was an off duty police. He saw what was in the road and quickly put a blanket over it. He then noticed that I was covered in blood and tried to ascertain where I had been injured. As it turns out I was not injured. And the blood was not mine. My dad arrived on the scene about 15 minutes later. After he made sure I was alright and the police took all the information that they needed he took me home. There were no charges filed ever against either parties. It was ruled, "contributory negligence".
By the time I got back home. I guess my family had already developed a plan on how to handle the situation, or maybe it was just their instinctive behavior. They were all watching television including my mother and continued to do so when I came through the door. Nobody said a word about it. The first thing I needed to do was to get my soiled clothes off and take a shower, as I headed for the bathroom my mom ordered my oldest brother to stop watching TV and accompany me into the bathroom. He protested and asked her, why? She struggled for the answer and then just said " because I said so". But I knew why she wanted him to accompany me. I got rid of the soiled clothes and took my shower. When I was finished they were all still watching TV. I went and sat down on the couch with them , nobody said a word. After a few minutes I had had enough, I decided to go to bed. I laid there in bed scared and alone. After awhile everyone went to bed as well, it was late . I still laid there my heart was pounding ,not able to close my eyes. At around 2 0'clock I got up the nerve to go into my mom and dad's room. They were both asleep. I quietly woke my dad and asked if I could sleep on the floor next to his bed. He told me to just go back to bed and go to sleep. I asked again but this time I added, "please can I?" he said OK. Rolled over and went back to sleep. I didn't sleep that night, but I didn't feel so alone, laying on the floor next to his bed.
Over the next few months the accident might have got mentioned once or twice in regards to an insurance claim that would pay for the car but nothing more than that. It was such a small town at the time, that the accident made front page on the local Palm Springs news paper.
Even though it was deemed contributory negligence I blamed myself soul y. After all nobody told me otherwise. I so much just wanted to hear somebody tell me that it wasn't, but no one ever did. It was only recent that I had the courage to address these things that have never been dealt with and have tormented me for nearly three decades. I never had the strength to blame anyone but myself. I have since become very bitter over this. I mean for god's sake, I know I was speeding, but What the f__k was someone doing in the middle of a f__king desert road? Was he drunk? Maybe on medication? Maybe he wanted to commit suicide and picked me to do it for him. I wish that someone could have made these suggestion back then , I would have still shouldered the blame , but at least it would suggest that there might have been somewhere else to point the finger. There was no investigation nor would there be an autopsy. So no one will ever know what really was the cause of that horrible night.
Around town and even amongst my friends it was hard to look anyone in the eye. I was very depressed and had thoughts of suicide. This went on for a couple months till I landed myself in the hospital with a drug overdose. I don't think I was trying to commit suicide, it was just that I didn't really care what happened to me anymore. I still wished so badly for someone to tell me that it wasn't my fault. But I was waiting for something that would never happen. Looking back on it, I think my parents kinda used what happened, as a way to get me to change who I had become, and get me back on the "straight and narrow".
After awhile my parents tried to get me psychological help. That was a failure. The counselor they sent me to was in way over his head, ( he was a student counselor) and in seeing this, the counselor recommended I talk to some of the clergy in my parents church. I did and that seemed to work . I remember thinking "so maybe it was my fault, god will forgive me for my sins" So that's when I began doing "Gods Work" I changed everything about myself. I didn't do drugs. I didn't drink. I stopped thinking and indulging in anything to do with transgender feelings. It was about eight months later I met Patty (my wife) in church. She was the most beautiful lady I had ever seen. I knew that she was a women that I could love. I also knew that my parents would love her as well. Which was very important to me at the time. Because not only was I doing gods will, it seemed I was doing my parents will. This pleased them very much. We dated for one and a half months till we were married. I was eighteen then. By nineteen I was ordained as a minister. By twenty We had our first daughter.
Even though I had changed everything about myself there were some things I could not. Even with what I thought was "gods help". When Patty and I decided to get married the date we picked was January 23rd. It just so happened that Patty was expecting her period that day. When she told me this, I was so relieved. I thought that the extra time was just what I needed to get used to Patty in a sexual way, and that after a week I thought , I would be able to preform my husbandly duties. Well one week turned into two weeks , weeks turned into months. It was three months to the day until I was able to consummate our marriage. Even then it was without a climax. I don't remember how long that took to get figured out but we finally did manage to make it work though. Which resulted in our first child.
After our second daughter and nine years of marriage. My feelings of being transgender returned. Not all at once, but over the years they had slowly returned until they were as if they had never left. I think this was true. My transgender feelings were always with me I just managed to bury them deep inside of me. I never explained to Patty anything about my feelings. Which took its tole on our marriage. I can only imagine the pain and confusion she must have felt being newly married and having a husband that could not preform as he should. It took allot for me to get up enough courage up to talk to Patty about my feelings. I finally reasoned to myself , that since our marriage seemed so rocky and this issue was causing me so much concern. That if I talked to her, maybe this would bring us closer. I picked a night , the kids were asleep. I sat Patty down and told her "I had something very important to talk to her about" . She could see that I was nervous and that this was something that was going to be difficult for us. She gave me her full attention. I got about a tenth of the way into the discussion. When she stopped me. She could see even in the short time I was talking that I was baring my soul. She stopped me from saying anything more. I guess it was the honesty that she was not comfortable with. She didn't want me to bare my soul to a person who was not planning on sticking around much longer. She then proceeded to tell me just how unhappy she had been all these years and that our marriage was all but over. Well the other part of my confession would not be talked about till quite some time later. Our marriage was about to end.
I think that it is reflex that maybe responsible or just wanting what you can't have ? I don't know , I went into "survival mode". I was not going to let Patty go without a fight. And fight we did.... It took years of long late night discussions. To try to put or marriage back together. During that time my discussion about me being transgender came out. But only this time it came out very slowly, little bits at a time and I was very selective of what I would tell her. I was very shaken by having almost lost her I thought that if she knew everything about me that she would surely leave. So I unfortunately withheld key pieces of information. By now we were expecting our third daughter. ( I think it says that somewhere in the marriage survival hand book, that if your marriage is on the rocks have another child.). So it didn't seem opportune to be talking about my transgender feeling when so much was going on in our lives.
I knew I couldn't live my life this way for very much longer and certainly not the rest of my life. I didn't know what kind of life that I wanted I just knew this one was not it. Secretly I began giving myself dead lines and setting goals for myself.
I have to repeat the old cliche, "I wish I knew then, what I know now" about Patty. If only I knew how wonderful and understanding person she would be to me. All this time I spent worrying about whether or not she would leave me, ended up just causing more distance between us . Not to mention all the time wasted.
In making deals and goals with myself. The last one was fulfilled this last year. " I would be out of the closet after my children are grown." Well our youngest daughter celebrated her eighteenth birthday this year. I have absolutely no more secrets to tell . Nothing to keep from anyone anymore.
So when I tell someone that I am transgender and that I have been married to the same women for 28 years and that she did not know that I was trans until ten years after we got married and that I didn't transition till we had been married 28 years. That just doesn't tell the whole story. Most people will probably assume that it was some sort of mid life crisis or maybe like my father, assume it is some sort of perversion. They may also think to themselves how unfair I have been to Patty and that I should have informed her prior to marriage or in the very least come out to her sooner so that she could have divorced at a younger age.
I know the people here at Susan's Don't jump to those conclusions , but for the outsiders that I tell. Well I guess that just the life we have to live.
Hugs, Roxy
And I for got to add, and the Erocse's lived happily ever after.
