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Title: Hiding in Plain Sight: My Experience
Post by: WhosThatGirl on March 01, 2014, 01:54:28 PM
Post by: WhosThatGirl on March 01, 2014, 01:54:28 PM
Hello everyone. I've been lurking the last few weeks and have periodically visited for many years. As most with a gender issue have probably experienced, there can be phases of denial and honesty. I've now reached a point where I desperately need to be a part of the conversation; to acknowledge that I'm not alone; and to give and receive compassion and help.
I am a 34 year old male living with my male partner of nearly a decade in Northern California. My story is very similar to others I've read here, but also unique in it's own ways. Ever since I can remember (age 5-7), I was not like most other boys. I grew up in a rural farm town where most embraced old-fashioned values and evangelicalism. In general, little boys played sports and played with toy cars and play tool sets before developing interests in hunting, car restoration and bodybuilding. Little girls played "house", dress-up and played with dolls; then as they grew, expressed interest in socializing, make-up, pop music, and boys. No, it was not the 1950's; it was the 80's. And yes, I am painting in broad strokes; and there were exceptions. But what I described applied to the majority.
At my youngest (5-8), my interests were entirely feminine. My mother was a goddess in my eyes, and I wanted to be just like her. I would regularly wrap a towel around my head, pretending it was long hair; wear only long shirts, imagining they were skirts; put on my mother's heels or jelly shoes given to me by a friend. I was entirely captivated by practically any doll or toy with "real" hair. I idolized and emulated female pop stars of the time – Madonna, Paula Abdul, Belinda Carlisle. I was often mistaken as a girl, and it elicited no feelings or reaction from me. However, I did recognize that it embarrassed my parents.
At that age, I believed that "girl" and "boy" were identities that one chose, primarily based on their interests. In a way, that was quite a sophisticated belief. (Or a naive one, depending on your perspective!) My parents weren't the best at dealing with my gender deviant behavior, yet they weren't the worst. Their approach was inconsistent... on one occasion, they'd purchase the doll I wanted; on the next, they would strictly forbid it. I was often encouraged to "be myself", yet could not reconcile that with the curious and negative reactions my true behavior would often elicit. Finally, they advised that my unusual behavior be reserved for home – a "safe place." And I wonder why I'm inclined to be a recluse these days!
My mother lost her position as my idol when she tossed my jelly shoes into a fire pit while I was away at school. I was crushed and cried all evening, because I knew I would not be allowed to get a new pair. I recognized that this was my mother's new approach – strictly forbidding. This was the beginning of a new path for her, which quickly led to an obsession with evangelicalism. She is still on that path, and I am still on mine. Sadly, we have not had what I would consider to be a healthy relationship for many, many years.
My father's parenting style was also very inconsistent. Bless him, he would take me to the doll aisle at the toy store, and he still recounts the odd looks we would receive. I don't recall noticing that, but I also did not care one iota what people thought of me back then. I pursued what I wanted and had no shame! (Nowadays, I long for that lost part of my personality.) Like my mother, my father became more strict as I grew older. By that point, I recognized how authority figures were relentlessly attempting to force me into the male box. I was driven to break those barriers, so I did not back down. When my father realized that I had been wearing eyeliner, he flew into a rage that lasted for days. He grabbed me forcefully, put his face very close to mine and yelled viciously, "YOU ARE NOT A GIRL." I did not respond, as I feared a physical backlash.
Oh God... this is very painful to put into words and read back to myself. My heart is racing, and I'm filled with emotions – sadness, rage, loss. If you have read this far, thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to hear my story.
I've already written a novel here (as I am notorious for), but there is more. School was hell, although my experience could have been worse. Fortunately, my father was a well-liked teacher at my school, and I believe this deterred most bullies. But not all of them. If school was hell, gym class was the deepest, darkest part of it. I felt extremely uncomfortable and in constant fear of verbal and physical attacks. That fear was not irrational. One day, while standing as close to the exit as possible, eagerly awaiting the bell's ring, my shirt was grabbed, and I was slammed against the concrete wall. My aggressor put his face very close to mine, and clearly teeming with hatred, he asked, "Why do you dress like such a ->-bleeped-<-got?" I was wearing a v-neck t-shirt. A V-NECK T-SHIRT.
On another occasion, this same aggressor struck me from behind with extreme force, sending me deep into a cluster of thorny hedges, covering my body in cuts and bruises. My teenage experience was not all negative, however. I established a group of close friends, mostly other outcasts. I sought them out, and I still do.
In my youth (ages 5-18), most of my closest friends were females. I simply generally did not share the same interests as boys. As a small child, I witnessed only heterosexual relationships. Homosexuals did not exist in my world (at least to my knowledge), and they were rarely discussed. If they were, they were mocked and derided. It was implied that homosexuality was something that occurred only in entertainment or in liberal (read: evil & depraved) urban areas.
I've always valued honesty with myself. I've never been afraid to acknowledge my own thoughts, feelings and fantasies – both light and dark. At the age of 14 or 15, I actually wrote the words in my journal that I deeply wished I had been born female. I was so terrified that my nosy mother would discover my writing that I tore the page out and burnt it. To this day, that removed page remains very symbolic to me. Foolishly, I concluded that identifying as a gay male was a less worse offense and would lead to a less challenging life experience. My naivety and lack of real world experience with gay men allowed me to believe that a relationship with another man would allow me to be who I truly am. How did I not deduce that men attracted to men are generally attracted to masculinity? I discovered that many gay men have deep contempt for and fear of femininity.
My first serious relationship fell apart shortly after I shared my desire to cross dress with my partner. He began cheating on me and put my health in danger. My current partner knows very little of my unresolved gender issues. Obviously, I've shared my life story with him, but I'm assuming he accredits my experiences to being gay. He doesn't know that I regularly cross dressed throughout my life (and still do when the rare opportunity presents itself). He doesn't know that nearly every day of my life, I wish to be transformed into a female or wish I had been born one. He doesn't know that I sometimes want to believe in reincarnation, because then maybe I'll get a second chance at the life experiences I've always yearned for. He doesn't know that the source of my undulating depression, lack of motivation and anhedonia can largely be attributed to despising the male experience.
I will stop now, because it's unreasonable to ask anyone to read this much in one post. I look forward to sharing thoughts, feelings and experiences with others here. Hopefully I can offer support and understanding to others like me who feel alone, ostracized and frankly, short-changed in this life.
– Erika
I am a 34 year old male living with my male partner of nearly a decade in Northern California. My story is very similar to others I've read here, but also unique in it's own ways. Ever since I can remember (age 5-7), I was not like most other boys. I grew up in a rural farm town where most embraced old-fashioned values and evangelicalism. In general, little boys played sports and played with toy cars and play tool sets before developing interests in hunting, car restoration and bodybuilding. Little girls played "house", dress-up and played with dolls; then as they grew, expressed interest in socializing, make-up, pop music, and boys. No, it was not the 1950's; it was the 80's. And yes, I am painting in broad strokes; and there were exceptions. But what I described applied to the majority.
At my youngest (5-8), my interests were entirely feminine. My mother was a goddess in my eyes, and I wanted to be just like her. I would regularly wrap a towel around my head, pretending it was long hair; wear only long shirts, imagining they were skirts; put on my mother's heels or jelly shoes given to me by a friend. I was entirely captivated by practically any doll or toy with "real" hair. I idolized and emulated female pop stars of the time – Madonna, Paula Abdul, Belinda Carlisle. I was often mistaken as a girl, and it elicited no feelings or reaction from me. However, I did recognize that it embarrassed my parents.
At that age, I believed that "girl" and "boy" were identities that one chose, primarily based on their interests. In a way, that was quite a sophisticated belief. (Or a naive one, depending on your perspective!) My parents weren't the best at dealing with my gender deviant behavior, yet they weren't the worst. Their approach was inconsistent... on one occasion, they'd purchase the doll I wanted; on the next, they would strictly forbid it. I was often encouraged to "be myself", yet could not reconcile that with the curious and negative reactions my true behavior would often elicit. Finally, they advised that my unusual behavior be reserved for home – a "safe place." And I wonder why I'm inclined to be a recluse these days!
My mother lost her position as my idol when she tossed my jelly shoes into a fire pit while I was away at school. I was crushed and cried all evening, because I knew I would not be allowed to get a new pair. I recognized that this was my mother's new approach – strictly forbidding. This was the beginning of a new path for her, which quickly led to an obsession with evangelicalism. She is still on that path, and I am still on mine. Sadly, we have not had what I would consider to be a healthy relationship for many, many years.
My father's parenting style was also very inconsistent. Bless him, he would take me to the doll aisle at the toy store, and he still recounts the odd looks we would receive. I don't recall noticing that, but I also did not care one iota what people thought of me back then. I pursued what I wanted and had no shame! (Nowadays, I long for that lost part of my personality.) Like my mother, my father became more strict as I grew older. By that point, I recognized how authority figures were relentlessly attempting to force me into the male box. I was driven to break those barriers, so I did not back down. When my father realized that I had been wearing eyeliner, he flew into a rage that lasted for days. He grabbed me forcefully, put his face very close to mine and yelled viciously, "YOU ARE NOT A GIRL." I did not respond, as I feared a physical backlash.
Oh God... this is very painful to put into words and read back to myself. My heart is racing, and I'm filled with emotions – sadness, rage, loss. If you have read this far, thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to hear my story.
I've already written a novel here (as I am notorious for), but there is more. School was hell, although my experience could have been worse. Fortunately, my father was a well-liked teacher at my school, and I believe this deterred most bullies. But not all of them. If school was hell, gym class was the deepest, darkest part of it. I felt extremely uncomfortable and in constant fear of verbal and physical attacks. That fear was not irrational. One day, while standing as close to the exit as possible, eagerly awaiting the bell's ring, my shirt was grabbed, and I was slammed against the concrete wall. My aggressor put his face very close to mine, and clearly teeming with hatred, he asked, "Why do you dress like such a ->-bleeped-<-got?" I was wearing a v-neck t-shirt. A V-NECK T-SHIRT.
On another occasion, this same aggressor struck me from behind with extreme force, sending me deep into a cluster of thorny hedges, covering my body in cuts and bruises. My teenage experience was not all negative, however. I established a group of close friends, mostly other outcasts. I sought them out, and I still do.
In my youth (ages 5-18), most of my closest friends were females. I simply generally did not share the same interests as boys. As a small child, I witnessed only heterosexual relationships. Homosexuals did not exist in my world (at least to my knowledge), and they were rarely discussed. If they were, they were mocked and derided. It was implied that homosexuality was something that occurred only in entertainment or in liberal (read: evil & depraved) urban areas.
I've always valued honesty with myself. I've never been afraid to acknowledge my own thoughts, feelings and fantasies – both light and dark. At the age of 14 or 15, I actually wrote the words in my journal that I deeply wished I had been born female. I was so terrified that my nosy mother would discover my writing that I tore the page out and burnt it. To this day, that removed page remains very symbolic to me. Foolishly, I concluded that identifying as a gay male was a less worse offense and would lead to a less challenging life experience. My naivety and lack of real world experience with gay men allowed me to believe that a relationship with another man would allow me to be who I truly am. How did I not deduce that men attracted to men are generally attracted to masculinity? I discovered that many gay men have deep contempt for and fear of femininity.
My first serious relationship fell apart shortly after I shared my desire to cross dress with my partner. He began cheating on me and put my health in danger. My current partner knows very little of my unresolved gender issues. Obviously, I've shared my life story with him, but I'm assuming he accredits my experiences to being gay. He doesn't know that I regularly cross dressed throughout my life (and still do when the rare opportunity presents itself). He doesn't know that nearly every day of my life, I wish to be transformed into a female or wish I had been born one. He doesn't know that I sometimes want to believe in reincarnation, because then maybe I'll get a second chance at the life experiences I've always yearned for. He doesn't know that the source of my undulating depression, lack of motivation and anhedonia can largely be attributed to despising the male experience.
I will stop now, because it's unreasonable to ask anyone to read this much in one post. I look forward to sharing thoughts, feelings and experiences with others here. Hopefully I can offer support and understanding to others like me who feel alone, ostracized and frankly, short-changed in this life.
– Erika
Title: Re: Hiding in Plain Sight: My Experience
Post by: Cindi Lane on March 01, 2014, 02:21:17 PM
Post by: Cindi Lane on March 01, 2014, 02:21:17 PM
Hi Erika,
Welcome to Susans.org, I hope the many kind souls here will become your family.
I'm joyful that you have survived and grown.
For most of us, we can try and keep her in a box in the closet, but that often becomes an increasing source of depression as the pressure to be your true self increases over time. Please don't let it build up until you implode. Please consider seeking a therapist with gender identity experiences.
-Cindy
Welcome to Susans.org, I hope the many kind souls here will become your family.
I'm joyful that you have survived and grown.
For most of us, we can try and keep her in a box in the closet, but that often becomes an increasing source of depression as the pressure to be your true self increases over time. Please don't let it build up until you implode. Please consider seeking a therapist with gender identity experiences.
-Cindy
Title: Re: Hiding in Plain Sight: My Experience
Post by: V M on March 01, 2014, 03:55:46 PM
Post by: V M on March 01, 2014, 03:55:46 PM
Hi Erika :icon_wave:
Welcome to Susan's :) Glad to have you here, join on in the fun
Please be sure to review
Hugs
V M
Welcome to Susan's :) Glad to have you here, join on in the fun
Please be sure to review
- Site Terms of Service and rules to live by (https://www.susans.org/forums/index.php/topic,2.0.html)
- Standard Terms and Definitions (https://www.susans.org/forums/index.php/topic,54369.0.html)
- Post Ranks ( including when you can upload an avatar) (https://www.susans.org/forums/index.php/topic,114.0.html.)
- Age and the Forum (https://www.susans.org/forums/index.php/topic,62197.msg405545.html#msg405545)
- Reputation rules (https://www.susans.org/forums/index.php/topic,18960.0.html)
- Photo, avatars, and signature images policy (https://www.susans.org/forums/index.php/topic,59974.msg383866.html#msg383866)
Hugs
V M
Title: Re: Hiding in Plain Sight: My Experience
Post by: Jessica Merriman on March 01, 2014, 06:26:19 PM
Post by: Jessica Merriman on March 01, 2014, 06:26:19 PM
A big warm welcome to the family Erika! I am so glad you found and joined us and hope the information you get here helps. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed or guilty about and we accept you with open arms. The information you get here is from REAL people at all stages of transition and you will learn what works, or doesn't and many other things along the way. Feel free to rant, vent, share good news (we like that a LOT), learn or just have some fun and meet the rest of the family. There is no reason at all to feel anything other than accepted, loved and know we want you to succeed in life. Here is a BIG HUG :icon_hug: to welcome you and make you feel right at home! :)
Title: Re: Hiding in Plain Sight: My Experience
Post by: Jamie D on March 01, 2014, 10:55:52 PM
Post by: Jamie D on March 01, 2014, 10:55:52 PM
I am pleased to meet you, Erika. :)
You can be yourself here. More than a few of our members here can relate life stories just like yours.
You can be yourself here. More than a few of our members here can relate life stories just like yours.