Susan's Place Transgender Resources

I actually started this Blog a few years ago, but it was lost in the crash, so I thought I might start again so those who see my posts might know a little more about me. Now, I will be describing my journey over 7 decades, and what I have learned about me. We are all slightly different, so please do not feel I am drawing conclusions about anybody else.

I knew at 3 or 4 years old that my gender was incongruent. In my early dreams I was always a girl, and every morning I would wake up disappointed my dream had not spilled into my awake life. I told my mother I should be a girl, and she just said I had a wild imagination. Still, the dreams would not leave me. I had the opportunity to 'borrow' a baby doll nighty, and I could not resist, and though I didn't get caught, I promised myself I wouldn't do it again.

When I started school, I tried to play with the girls, but they wouldn't have me, and I was not comfortable with the boys, so recess and lunch was alone time. I joined the Cub Scouts when I was 7, and our lady leader thought it would be novel and fun to have us come to a meeting in girls clothes! I was so excited and begged Mum to let me do it. She borrowed a dress from a neighbour and I walked the 2 miles to the Cub meeting in it. About half the other boys wore girls clothing, and I was in heaven. When I got home, Mum told me to get changed, and I refused. My family members teased me mercilessly until I ran to my bedroom in tears.

Mum Came in and helped me change as I sobbed. She knew I was different, and she was scared. In those days, different would certainly get you bashed, and possibly killed. Mum sat me on my bed and told me if anyone found out I needed to be a girl, I would be in danger, and possibly would be taken to a 'facility' and shocked until I 'came to my senses'. I continued to have dreams where I was a girl, but from then on, my dreams became nightmares about people chasing me to hurt me.

I knew I had to bury my feelings and never let anyone get close to me, lest they learn my secret. I never allowed myself to have friends while growing up. By the time I was 9 I had worked out that I had something different inside me which, no matter how hard I tried to get rid of it, would not leave me. I had 3 brothers and no sisters so every now and again, I would borrow a piece of my mothers clothes and secretly wear it, so I learned that small affirming things like this reduced the constant frustration I suffered with.

Mum gave me the 'Birds and Bees' talk when I was 11, and I simply refused to accept that my body would change into that of a man, and the next 3 years were excruciating for me. At 14 I was much bigger than Mum, so my 'borrowing' her stuff was over. I went to a tough school, so I took my frustrations out on some of the bullies during sport, which tended to reduce the challenges I got at recess. Unfortunately, I inherited my father's muscles, and the PE teacher kept asking me if I was working out in a gym. I reasoned that I could never be a girl, so I tried as hard as I could to be the toughest boy possible, doing so many sports things I had no time to think about my frustrations. My mother had rheumatoid arthritis and struggled with cooking, cleaning, and sewing. She knew I would help her while none of my brothers would, and would tell me she so loved passing on her motherly talents to me, once almost calling me her daughter.

Going to Uni was not an option for me as I needed to start earning money to support my family. As I was racing speedway cars, my careers guide got me an apprenticeship as a truck mechanic. The toughness I had developed at school served me well in a workshop of 20 males, and I threw myself into my work, but I was still bothered by feelings I simply couldn't shake. This time it wasn't about being a girl, I was clucky for a baby.

While the other 18 year old boys were out 'sowing their seeds' I spent my Saturday nights babysitting. Feeding babies and changing their dirty nappies gave me so much satisfaction, but I really wanted to carry and birth my own. I also realised I wasn't sexually attracted to anyone, male, female or whatever. My mother worried that I never dated, so started setting me up with blind dates, and the firs couple were disasters. Then she set me up with a girl who was so innocent and childlike, and I became protective of her. 3 years later, despite me coming out to her that I was trans, we got married, and though I had trouble with sex, she became pregnant.She agreed that I could dress in private, so long as she and the children never saw it.

I told myself at the time that I loved her, but in later years I wonder if our relationship was mostly so I could have a baby of my own. I was a very enthusiastic parent, and just as well, as my wife loved having a baby, but not so much all the work involved. A couple of years later we had our second baby, and my wife struggled. She couldn't wake for night feeds, so I would get up, change the nappy, bring my baby into my wife and put him on her breast to feed. She never woke, and I wept softly as I would have done anything to breast feed my baby. I felt this was a cruel circumstance.

Before my son tuned 3, my wife told me she was leaving us, as I made her feel inadequate as a mother. So I was now a single parent with 2 toddler children. For almost a decade, I only had a few hours sleep a day with parenting, work, and housework, so I had no time to seek relief from unrelenting dysphoria. I was totally committed to making sure my children never missed out on anything.

I was on the Kindergarten Committee, and my wife had been in a babysitting club, and one of the Mums told me my ex owed quite a few hours of babysitting for my kids, but she had not done any for the other Mums. I was surprised that the other Mums agreed to let me care for their children, and when I mentioned it a couple of Mums told me I just had a natural motherly air about me and they could see how well I cared for my children. I was now a member of the Mothers Club!

TBC

Hugs,

Allie

Before I go on to the second chapter of my Blog, there are some things I should explain. I am a pragmatist, I don't just accept anything I am told and I go research things that are important to me. This caused much frustration to the priests, brothers, and nuns during my catholic education, and ended our relationship in year 8. My doctors have also been questioned, and I will go back to them with data I have researched. Some are offended that I question them, some nonplussed, and a couple have admitted they have learned from me with one doctor sometimes emailing me to see if I have found research papers on certain topics.

I am analytical, and this led me to become an expert witness for court cases and insurance claims for mechanical failures, and to be called in to diagnose problems with equipment. Over my life I have analysed most of the impactful things, and while I had few answers to my incongruence in the early days, the last decade or so has provided a lot of information which fits my own observations about myself extremely well, and I will discuss these as I progress my blog. Again, these are understandings about my circumstances, and we are all different.

Please realise that I am leaving out big chunks of relative information about my journey for brevity and privacy. I am writing this in hopes my comments on other topics and posts here can make sense.

Hugs,

Allie

Good to see you back dear.

   @Allie Jayne

Dear Allie:
I am very happy to see that you have started your "replacement" member Blog thread here
on the Susan's Place Forum.

I'm very aware of your many years of experience that you can share with with our other
members here on the Forum
 
Along with your readers and avid followers I will also be eagerly looking for and
reading your future postings here on your Blog, and all around the various topics
and Forum threads

HUGS, Danielle [Northern Star Girl]

Welcome back to the Blogs, Allie!

I lost my account in the crash also, but I didn't post much, if at all, so it was no loss.

I have learned a little about you from your various posts around the forum, and it is wonderful to be able to read the whole story right here.

Thank you for sharing your story with us.

Thanks so much, Allie!

I was four years old the first time I cross dressed using my older sister's clothes. I proudly paraded in front of my parents but did not get the reaction I expected. I understand how quickly dreams can become nightmares. I look forward to hearing more about you. Hugs.

Allie, thank you for starting a new blog! I have gone back and read a lot of your old posts so that I could know more about your path. Having you re-posting the core of it now is more valuable than you realize.

Thank you all for your interest, and I hope my story helps someone. During my life to date I had searched for any information about my challenges, but in the '60's and '70's there was very little. It was before personal computers and the internet, so books were the only source, and of course rare mentions of transsexuals, usually in trashy newspapers. About the only books I could find were written by sexologists, and their conclusions about mental illness just didn't seem true. In later years these texts were disqualified and shown to be merely opinions with no real research behind them.

Being a single parent while working full time and keeping a house nice for my children was challenging, but I was determined. By the time my children were in secondary school, my financial pressures had eased, and under doctors orders, I cut back my work load. I was a passionate scuba diver, so every weekend when my ex had our children, I would go diving with my club. A woman almost 10 years my junior shared my passion for marine critters and photography, and we became regular buddies. Our interest in each other was purely about our hobby, as she didn't like children, and just never saw me as boyfriend material. We went away on trips together and shared accommodation, but not beds, and she admitted she viewed me as sexless.

I was the shoulder she cried on through 3 breakups with her boyfriends, and she began dropping in to see me whenever she needed company (or free meals). She told me she had settled for me and wasn't looking for a man anymore, then I found her in my bed. She couldn't believe how little I knew about sex, and was amazed I had 2 children, and set about teaching me how to please her. While she made it more fun than I had ever imagined, I was hit with a deep guilt after each time, and I struggled to meet her expectations.

We had a 386 computer, and dial up internet, and when my kids were asleep, I spent hours searching for answers about my gender incongruence. Of course, in the '80's there was a lot of misinformation online, and I found little to help me. There was some useful information later from A Vitale and, of course I found and completed a test to see if I was trans with predictable results! I was still very firmly in the closet, and by the '90's I had found a trans fiction site. So many of the stories there had elements of my own life, and for the first time I started to think I might not be so unique. I found that by writing fiction stories about myself, I felt some relief from what I now understood was dysphoria.

As the new century approached, I was now in my mid 40's, my children were teens and totally involved with friends, my life seemed to be driving them to sporting events or stage events. My lady friend was spending 3 nights a week at my place, and we were diving whenever I had free time. We were camping at a remote location, and diving was not happening as the wind howled, and after 3 days in our tent, she told me she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me. I agreed that I was happy with our relationship, but reminded her that I had responsibilities to my children who were still at school, and she didn't want to take on any of that.

A couple of weeks later, she agreed that I should continue raising my children alone, but she wanted a commitment from me for our future. I really thought that by now, she would have guessed I might be trans, so I came out to her. She was silent, just went home and I didn't hear from her for 2 weeks. She rang me and told me she had cried so much, but had realised she loved me for my feminine side as well as my male side, and asked if we could stay together. Again, I agreed that we could be together, but my kids were my priority for the next years.

I had acquired a couple of items of female clothing over the years, and on those rare moments when I had time to myself, I would indulge and it reduced my dysphoria. I noticed a pattern where I could spend a night in my nightie and part of a day in a dress, and my dysphoria would be greatly reduced, only to slowly build over the next couple of weeks. So, by finding time to dress, and writing stories, I was able to manage my dysphoria, and maintain a mostly normal life. I explained this to my friend and soul mate, and she agreed that I should have time to be myself in our relationship, but she never wanted to see it. By mid December of '99, it seemed I was engaged again.

That Christmas was a disaster. On Christmas Eve, I took my children to a carols event at a children's hospital, and when we got home late we found that our dogs had been terrorised by neighbours fireworks, and broke through our fence. We found one dead on a local road, obviously struck by a car. My daughter was devastated, and our Christmas ruined. My mother was in a hospital some 2000 kilometres away with serious emphysema, and when I rang her on Christmas Day she was struggling to talk. The next day she passed. I was close to my mother, as she was the only person who knew my secret while I was growing up, though we had never spoken about it since I was 7. A couple of days later, while I was making arrangements at the funeral home, I got a call from the driver who had struck my dog, demanding thousands for repairs.

I was numb through New Years, and when I started to get myself together my fiancé gave me a pearl necklace to cheer me up. Even though I never had the opportunity to wear it out anywhere, it meant so much to me to have this, not the least that someone had accepted me for who I was! A couple of months later, she announced that she had booked the registry office for us to get married. I was disappointed as, even though I wouldn't have gotten to wear a wedding dress, I had sort of planned a real wedding in my head. So we married in jeans and Hawaiian shirts with her best friend and my children in attendance, then went back to our lives of her staying over 3 nights a week. I learned later the rush to get married was about her mother unhappy she was living in sin. My new wife gave me a beautiful satin nightie as a wedding present, and even better, allowed me to wear it while she was with me!  It was a bit crazy, newly married and living apart, but I had pretty much given up any idea of 'normal' in my life!

Over the next couple of years, I struggled more and more with having sex, so my wife introduced alternatives, though, only at her place. My children were getting into their 20's and were totally involved in their own lives, not really wanting me around that much, so I started to stay at my wife's place more often. There was still very little information on the internet to help me, and what I found was usually based on the older opinions, so not really relevant to me anyway.

I never had much body hair, had bald patches in my facial hair, and didn't recede my head hair as much as my brothers were as we entered our 50's. I was never large in my genitals, but they seemed to be getting smaller, and I developed Phimosis, where the foreskin shrinks. My doctor diagnosed me with hypogonadism, suggested I start testosterone therapy and gave me a sample pack of Viagra (which simply didn't work for me). Of course, I could never take testosterone!

Since the Millennium I had grown out my hair, and I quit my job in the truck industry as the atmosphere became too uncomfortable for me. I decided to take a year off work and my daughter and her boyfriend bought my house from me. My son stayed on as her Tennant, but it was a rocky road. I finally lived full time with my wife, and we combined our assets to move to the beach. Life, for a time, was wonderful! We went on adventures around the country and overseas, and I began writing for magazines. I started shooting video and selling to TV and documentary makers, and I volunteered on community programs. I was asked to present some video on marine life to a school group at a local aquarium, and it went down very well, so I was invited back again. I absolutely loved doing this so I signed on as a volunteer. A couple of years later they put me on the payroll so I was working again, though this was my passion, so not really work.

My 50's were amazing, my wife finally softened to agree I could be myself all the time I was at home, provided nobody ever saw me. I did all the cooking and cleaning and she was happy with yard work. I was super careful when home, keeping blinds drawn and no sounds when I was alone, even keeping my phone on silent so if someone came to the door, then rang me, they wouldn't hear the ring inside. I did feel like a prisoner in my own home, but it was worth it!

My son moved in with his girlfriend, and then out on his own when that didn't work out, and my daughter broke up with her boyfriend and struggled to keep her house until she found another man, who she would marry and present me with grandchildren! I had babies again! Ironically, my daughter would only let me mind her newborns, as she didn't have confidence in her mother, and when she needed advice for sniffles and stains, I was her first call. She dubbed me her second Mum!

As I got into my 60's I began to find studies on brain dimorphism, one which mentioned as a sideline, that 6 of the brain dissected were from trans people, and more typically arranged as their Gender Identity. But due to needing donated brains for dissection, the data sets were too small to make solid conclusions. Oxford University also found this in their study, and the peers suggested that the dissected brains were subjected to years of hormone therapy, which could have changed the neuron arrangement. So the Oxford team accessed some brains of males who had prostate cancer and were also subjected to years of estrogen therapy, and all of those brains showed neuron arrangements consistent with their sex assigned. This piqued my interest, and when I applied these theories to my own observations over my life, it seemed to fit very well. I knew I had something inside me which I could not get rid of, no matter how hard I tried, and affirming my identity gave me short term relief. Maybe this was the basis of my lifelong incongruence? More research was warranted!

About this time, I noticed significant genital atrophy, and my phimosis was severe enough it was restricting urinary function, and my doctor wanted me to get circumcised, but I refused. I was also noticing short periods of depression creeping into my life as I struggled to contain my dysphoria. I reasoned that as my senior years had arrived, my body and mind were demanding I start properly affirming my identity. But I had deep fear that if I came out, I might lose members of my family, access to my grandchildren, my job, my standing in the community, and wind up living alone and miserable. So I pushed it all down and soldiered on!

My wife came into the bathroom as I got out of the shower and was drying my hair in a towel. She stood transfixed on my groin and burst into accusations that I had secretly started hormones and now my genitals had disappeared. Seeing my genitals was a dysphoria trigger for me, so I avoided looking down, though I knew they were shrinking, but even I was shocked as I could see nothing but wrinkly skin. It took a couple of hours to convince her that I would never start hormones without consulting her, and that the shrinkage was likely due to my hypogonadism. Her threats to leave me if anyone else found out were repeated. I have to admit, I was quietly delighted that there were no visible genitals, and I knew why I was getting messy when urinating (I had needed to sit for a few years by now).

I knew it was time to seek help from a gender specialist, but I was confident I knew what they would say, and terrified what the consequences might be. I had been living my dreams for over a decade and I didn't want that to end, but I was soon to learn that I was not able to manage my dysphoria.

Hugs,

Allie

In my teen years, I became convinced I would never be able to transition. I am not overly tall and pre HRT was 5ft 8", but I developed natural muscles and a small pelvis, so a very typically male (mesomorph) body shape. I plunged myself into typical male activities and actually enjoyed most of them. Aside from the testosterone filled environment, I enjoyed and excelled at truck mechanics, running my own successful business, and gaining respect in the industry.

I became a leader in the scuba fraternity, representing our community in government, and achieving major projects. With no formal qualifications, I have been invited to contribute to books, magazines  and research programs. I was very well respected in the community. Much of this was due to male privilege, and I was glad to have it.

Yes, I have a strong other side, and to my surprise, gained acceptance from women in most areas of female community, even before I came out. But, if I had the choice of the red or blue pill scenario, I would still choose my former male life (without the dysphoria). Though I felt as a child that I should be a girl, I know now that this was just my Gender Incongruence expressing itself. My conscious and reasoned thinking always prefers my former male life, but I recognise the wiring in my brain draws me to a female life.

I still don't believe I could ever successfully transition, I still get dysphoria at my body shape. Despite 6 years of HRT, I still have upper body muscles which trigger me, and I am the strongest person at my mixed seniors gym. I cannot buy a women's one piece swimsuit that fits my body which is 5 sizes different from tops to bottoms. My challenge has been to accept the incongruence between my Gender Identity and my body.

Hugs,

Allie

Even though I had a dream job and life, my dysphoria and depression were increasing. I worked with one man and five women, and they commented I was the most sensitive of all of them. With my interests in my grand babies, cooking and domestic duties, they called me 'Nanna' and made me an honorary woman. Year after year I promised myself I would see a gender specialist, but could never get the courage to do it. After all, I was in control of my dysphoria, right?

In September, I was a bit run down, so not surprised when I contracted a virus. After 2 weeks, I was still coughing, so I went to a doctor, and he prescribed me antibiotics. A couple of weeks later, still sick, back to the doctor, and he prescribed a different antibiotic. 4 weeks later, I tried a different doctor, but he had the same treatment, even after I told him I had been depressed. 4 weeks later, and my condition was getting worse, so I saw doctor number 3, but just the same treatment. I saw doctor number 4 just before Xmas, and she also gave me antibiotics, but also referred me to a Respiratory Specialist. I saw the specialist early in the New Year, and she diagnosed me with a rare virus, and gave me an antibiotic I had already tried, so I went back to my doctor, and she admitted she was getting worried about me. We discussed my depression, and In told her it was due to Gender Dysphoria, and she referred me to a local Gender Psychologist.

The psychologist told me it would take at least 3 sessions before she could diagnose me, but 40 minutes into the first session, she stopped me and said she had absolutely no doubt I was Trans and urgently in need of help. ( I was desperately unwell when I saw her). She referred me straight away to an endocrinologist and after 7 months of being very sick, I had an estradiol patch in my hands. I had spoken at length about all of this with my wife, but she was so scared of how sick I was, she agreed to try anything.

I had a chest CT a week after starting HRT and my bronchial swelling was gone! My doctor agreed that my prolonged illness was a result of my Gender Dysphoria, and HRT was the answer. For a month after, I felt no changes, but I was euphoric! Then I noticed tenderness in my right breast, and I realised things were actually changing. 65 years of fear of transition came flooding back, and I could only see bad things ahead.

About 3 months into HRT, I reasoned that I was feeling ok, maybe I didn't need the hormones anymore, so I stopped taking them. A week later I was sick again. My doctor made it clear that I had no choice but to continue HRT to stay healthy. She argued that if I died to protect my family, they would live with guilt. I was in a no win situation, and possibly worst of all, for the first time in my life, I realised I was NOT in control of my life. I went back on Estradiol ( I didn't need blockers as my T was so low), but also into a deep depression for the next 3 months, believing I would lose loved ones and lifestyle.

I had a lot of breast pain, and good early growth, so I knew people would start asking questions soon. They were already commenting how somehow I was looking younger. I decided I had to come out to my adult children. I wrote a 3 page speech, and contacted my son on FaceTime. He could sense this was very important, and stopped me after my first couple of shaky lines. He said "It doesn't matter what you are about to say, I will always be there for you!" I sobbed for minutes, and through half a pack of tissues, I managed to get through the 3 pages. He accepted me and vowed support. Depression is a dark place, as it progresses it gets darker and you can see less options. The moment my son accepted me the dark place I was in cracked, and light poured in. I wouldn't be alone, I was loved. ( I am crying writing this)

I came out to my daughter the next day, and then, over a week, to my brothers, and their love and support was total.I had promised them that I would not change my presentation for 6 months to give them time to get used to the idea. Next, I came out to my manager, and she was very supportive, and over the next week, I came out face to face with my co workers, and every one was accepting and supportive. They were all shocked, but some said that I finally made sense to them. I believe I made it easier for them to understand as I explained the medical causes behind it, and how I was born with incongruence.

In the next month I came out to my social and community groups, over 100 people in total with only a couple breaking contact with me. It was so freeing not hiding. But not all happy. My wife became paranoid that someone from her work might find out, so I had to promise to do everything I could to avoid that, and she was very nervous about my neighbours finding out. I told her it was a small community, and as I had come out to so many already, they were bound to find out eventually. I argued that if they learned via the grapevine, we would lose control of the narrative and it could go badly. She surprised me by taking the initiative and telling a couple of neighbours, and over the next month, I talked to the others we saw regularly.

Some of the ladies I worked with became overly enthusiastic about my transition, and a month after I came out, I arrived at work to find a new name plate on my office door, and new name tags. Event though I was presenting as make at work (and we were face to face with the public every day) they used my female name and pronouns. Though great to have their support, it made for a lot of embarrassing situations. Then my manger scheduled a meeting with the Diversity and Inclusion department, to facilitate my transition at work!

Their next surprise was to inform me that in a couple of weeks, they were sending me to a seminar on transition in the workplace in another city. TBH, this was all a whirlwind and a bit much! A couple of days later, one of my coworkers informed me that we would close our office for the day, and all my coworkers were coming to the seminar with me. Then she told me they expected me to be Allie for the day, as they were eager to meet the real me! I started to realise what she meant, and I had never been out of my house as a woman before, so this prospect was scary. In truth, I really didn't believe I could pull it off, so I was scared.

Needless to say, the discussion about this to my wife was tense, and our house was very quiet for a couple of days. I assured her that if it was going to cause her grief, I would refuse to go as myself. A couple of days later, and in tears, she told me that she knew it would happen eventually, so I should do it, and I admitted that I was really scared to go. My enthusiastic co worker informed me that all the girls had agreed to wear dresses for the day, and they expected me to also. I had so many mixed feelings in the days before the outing, but my desire to do it won out, and at 7.30 am I stepped out of the house and into the work vehicle picking me up.

My co workers were complimentary, but I quickly noticed only one other woman was in a dress. We drove to a station for a 70 minute rail trip in peak hour to the capitol city, and hundreds of people saw me, but nothing happened. From the train, we had to walk 3 blocks to the seminar, and when we got there, a large protest had drawn dozens of police and TV cameras we had to negotiate. After the seminar, we went to a packed outdoor restaurant for lunch, and everything seems so normal. I even had my first trip to the ladies rest room without incident, and just like that the day was over! My manager complimented me, and announced to all the staff that she was happy for me to present as female at work from now on, but I reminded them that I needed to take this slowly, as much form wife as for myself.

When I got home my wife greeted me with a brave smile, but I could sense she had been crying. I quizzed her how her day had been and she said she felt sick all day. She declared that I would never wear men;s clothes again after today, but I reminded her of my commitment to give everyone 6 months to get used to the change. The girls at work were disappointed that I came in my normal male uniform the next day, and to everyone's surprise, I did not step outside in female clothing again that year.

Hugs,

Allie

I had been myself at home for a couple of decades, but nobody was looking at me. Going out in public for the first time, when you never ever believed you could pass, is scary. Many of you know this. But I really jumped in the deep end with a whole day in public in a big city, and a televised protest! I have to thank my workmates, because this was a hurdle I may never have cleared on my own, but, with their help, for the first time in my life, I realised living as a woman might actually be possible.

There is something else. Like another entity inside me which makes me do things when, even when after careful consideration I had decided not to do things. My wife knew about this entity, and when I started HRT she told me I would not be able to control it. It scared her, and now it was scaring me.

Through the transition process I was referred to psychologists, and truthfully, I didn't receive any benefit from any of them. I let them know I was transitioning for medical reasons, and I was struggling with having to do something I had been committed not to do. Their advice was that I should come to terms with that or it could make big problems later. I already knew that!

Hugs,

Allie

P.S. If anyone has questions about things in these chapters, please feel free to ask!

Allie, such an amazing story! And a story that give me great hope. Thanks.

The diversity and Inclusion team had a form with transition milestones they were eager to
 fill in, even though I told them I wanted to take it slow. They wanted me to have my name officially changed before I officially changed roles at work, so my employment records would match tax and banking names. My wife even helped me fill in the application for a new birth certificate, then begged me not to submit it. After my day out as me, my wife told me she did not want to be seen as a lesbian (not that she is homophobic, but she wanted everyone to know she was straight), so I asked her if she would feel more comfortable if we got divorced. She agreed, and, after a meeting with a lawyer, we submitted the paperwork. She didn't want me to submit the Name Change documents until after the divorce was official, but this would have significantly delayed my change of status at work, and everybody in our department (approx 300 people) had been notified by HR, and the head of the department had also emailed all staff with a personal note of support! Our lawyer confirmed it would make no difference, so I submitted my name change documents. My wife wasn't happy. My new birth certificate arrived, and rather than celebrate it, I went to bed in tears after a (very rare) fight with my wife.

One of their items on the Inclusion dept list was GRS, and I admit, I had not given it serious consideration. I actually had no idea what it might involve, so I felt the quickest way to find out was to ring the surgeons office. I had spoken to a couple of people on Susan's who had used this surgeon, and were very happy, and he was the only one currently doing these surgeries in my country. I spoke to his specialist nurse, and she spent almost an hour explaining everything, and again, that entity inside me took over, and before I ended the call, I had made a tentative booking and paid a deposit!

It was probably the first time I had committed to anything without consulting my wife first, but to qualify for insurance, I would have to wait a year, so it made sense to at least reserve a place. She said she knew it would happen at some time, and as far as she was concerned, I hadn't had any genitals for over a decade anyway. I had an in person consult with the surgeon after a couple of months, and he was surprise at the state of my groin. He apologised and said he needed to inspect my testes and glans, and proceeded to manipulate my testes out, but had to admit defeat gaining access to my glans due to severe Phimosis.

My now ex and I had not shared a bedroom for many years as I had been incapable of sex, and she told me my snoring woke her up a couple of times every night. She moved to the guest bedroom at the other end of the house, and strangely, continued to be woken by snoring most nights, but she now knew it wasn't me!

The date for my official social and work transition was a month after my birthday, so I invited all my family to a buffet lunch at a pub to see me as a male for the last time. That morning my wife said she had come to terms with what was happening, and she was planning to keep living in our house with me. She gave me a card with "We Will Grow Old Together" on it with a cartoon of 2 old ladies. I bawled as this meant so much to me. Just 8 hours later, on the way home from our family lunch, she told me the sentiment on that card could change at any time, and she really couldn't commit to staying with me. I cried myself to sleep again.

A few days later, Covid 19 restrictions were started, and we were working from home, so all that anticipation of starting to go to work as myself was wasted. Yes, we zoomed a lot, but it's not the same as being present with people.

I loved my wife unconditionally, and she was my soul mate, but she was so hot and cold throughout my transition, it was causing me great distress. I am grateful I had Susan's forum to help me get through this. There were a few others on the forum who were going through similar trials, and we formed a sort of 'Save our Marriages Group' where we would support each other. One by one our relationships fell apart, but I could not conceive of it actually happening to me. I knew it was very hard on her, and I gave her as much support as I could. I know she loved her life with me, as we shared passions, and we had a dog she loved like a daughter. Through that Covid affected year she kept telling me she was feeling she could find happiness living with me, and then she would show distress.

Something else happened at the start of the lockdowns which would affect me badly. My manager announced a lockdown plan for our workplace which I simply could not accept, and she refused to discuss it with me. Her boss asked me how things were going, so I explained the plan and how I couldn't work with it, and how it could damage our business. He overruled her, adopting my plan. It came to a head in a staff meeting after which one of my co workers said "I think you just committed industrial suicide".

Hugs,

Allie

Allie,

Sending you so much love as you share this. Truly. 💗
What you've written takes courage, and it takes heart.

Reading the whole arc together, what stands out to me is how long you managed your dysphoria with discipline, strategy, and care for everyone around you. You didn't rush. You tried to go slowly, thoughtfully, and with deep consideration for your wife, your family, your work, and your community.

So when you talk about that "entity," I don't hear recklessness or something foreign. I hear the part of you that has existed since childhood — the part you recognized at nine years old as something that would not disappear — finally refusing to stay buried once suppression stopped being survivable. And that pressure wasn't only internal. It was intensified by the outside world accelerating everything: HR timelines, milestone forms, insurance requirements, name changes, well-meaning coworkers pushing ahead, systems already in motion while you were still trying to breathe.

And the emotional whiplash with your wife... that part is especially painful. The card that said *"We Will Grow Old Together,"* followed hours later by uncertainty, and you going to bed in tears — that isn't just sadness. That's repeated hope followed by withdrawal, over and over, while you were already standing on shifting ground. Loving her unconditionally doesn't make that easier or safer. It just means you carried more than anyone reasonably should have been asked to carry.

The medical thread running through your story matters, too. When illness and depression eased with estradiol, returned when you stopped, and your doctors recognized the connection — that wasn't about desire or preference. That was your body and mind asserting what they needed to stay well. That kind of truth can be terrifying, because it removes the illusion that this is optional. But it also explains why being told to "come to terms with it" was never going to be enough. You already understood. The problem wasn't insight — it was living inside consequences you never chose.

Your story will reach people who still believe they must remain in absolute control or they've failed. Sometimes what feels like losing control is actually your life insisting on continuing.

Thank you for trusting us with this. You are not alone here. You are seen, and you are held.

Hugs and love,
— Susan 💜

Susan, thanks for your input! The reason I am writing my account is so others might learn some valuable lessons from my experience. One is that you are not alone, as I had been all my life, likeminded people and support are as far away as your keyboard and forums like Susan's. Another is that this is something we can have total control over, it simply isn't. I managed for 6 decades, having a career and raising my family, but it overwhelmed me in the end. And I am a very determined person. The most important lesson I hope to pass on is that Dysphoria is a stress, and long term chronic stress is a real threat to health and survival. We need to be honest, and recognise stress in our lives so we can try to reduce it. In my upcoming chapters I will describe just how serious it can be.

To some extent, I was my own worst enemy, having the arrogance to think I was in total control, and pushing myself to the limit, and actually past it, and it's only luck that I am here to tell the story.

Hugs,

Allie

Covid was incredibly disruptive for the whole world, but it had an extra effect on the trans people who were finding themselves. So much of our social identity is formed from our interactions with others, and I lived in the most locked down place on the planet. I packed away all my old male clothes, but couldn't drop it off at my local charity shop as they were closed. I continued to go to work, but there was nobody else there. I shopped with a mask on, and I guess it did provide a soft entry into society.

As the end of the year drew near, I began to worry that my surgery might be cancelled, as the hospitals were still being overrun. It was just a couple of days pre surgery that I got the go ahead, but I had to test negative on the day and could have no visitors. My ex drove me the 2 hours to my 7.30 am appointment, and dropped me off. My doctor had spoken to my surgeon, and advised that I had severe menopausal reactions to low hormone doses, and they agreed I could continue a low dose in hospital, but when I was admitted, they took all the medications I had brought with me and locked them up. I woke that afternoon with no pain despite the surgeon telling me everything went smoothly.

I do have a high pain tolerance, but needed no pain meds, and it made me wonder if the surgery actually happened. I was heavily bandaged but the nurses came in every 4 hours to check for bleeding or post op infections. I asked when I would get my hormone gel, and the nurse advised me the surgeon had prohibited me from having them. I warned them they were making a mistake. It was the morning of day 3 before they unwrapped me and I first saw the surgery site. I cried, and the nurse asked are they good tears or bad tears. I sobbed that I had dreamed of this moment for over 60 years, never imagining it would come, but it had. It should have been an amazing day but I had a headache. I was allowed to stand beside my bed in the afternoon. That night I had night sweats, but they assured me I didn't have an infection.

My headache reduced a bit, but I had sore eyes, and asked that my room lights be lowered. My sweats continued, and they had to change my sheets daily. I told them these were the symptoms I get when my hormones are low, but they wouldn't budge. On day 4 they had me up and walking around and using the toilet, but my sheets were now stained with blood spots from my back. I had heat rash progressed to welts. I emailed the specialist nurse links to modern papers recommending hormones be continued, and she came in to see me saying the surgeon would not change his mind. I was delighted at the results of the surgery and the lack of pain, and I could even sit for meals, but I was not feeling well the whole time and of course, the nurses were worried about post surgical complications.

Because I was not feeling well, they kept me in hospital for a week, and a day after I went home the specialist nurse contacted me to see how I was. I told her I was feeling much better soon after I had my hormone dose. She apologised, saying she had read the papers I sent to her and agreed they were wrong to cut off my hormones, and she vowed to push the surgeon to change. I had to take salt baths twice a day, and my ex was super helpful, helping me in and out of the bath so I didn't pull a stitch. She drove me back to the hospital a week later for my checkup, and again 4 weeks post op, and she was wonderful the whole time. I realised that, for the first time in my life, I wasn't avoiding looking at my groin. My dysphoria was almost completely gone! It was much more than I had hoped for! Then she told me she was leaving me.

The date of my surgery was the same date as the Capitol invasion in the US, but we are a day ahead. I was looking forward to the best year of my life, but it was a disaster already. Things were tense for a month while we came to an agreement on property settlement, and it took me that long to accept I couldn't save this.

Lockdowns had eased, so I was able to get back to work, but I got the very strong feeling something was different. A couple of weeks later my manage rang me and told me she had completely changed the way I was to do my job, and when I asked if we could discuss it, she angrily told me she was my boss, and I had to do what I was told. She hadn't given me details of the changes, but I had an idea, and I knew it was not practical, and would be difficult for me due to health restrictions. From then I was left out of staff meetings and people were cautious around me. I found out what she was doing contravened industrial laws, so I contacted the workplace authority and discussed it with them, and they agreed it was an offence, and I should make an official complaint.

This did not go down well with my employer and things got worse. I was getting depressed with my ex leaving, my job in jeopardy, and not knowing if I would have the funds to keep my home. With so many changes recently in my life, I really needed something solid to anchor me, but I was stuck in a whirlpool. My doctor was concerned and referred me to a psychologist for support. It was 4 months until my ex found a house she liked, and another month until she moved out, and while we remained friendly, it was stressful. On top of that, for some reason, my hormone levels dropped significantly, so I was in menopause.

I learned that the specialist nurse and my surgeon had a big argument over hormones during pregnancy, and she resigned. The surgeon then ceased doing genital surgeries. While I felt I might have had a part in this, it meant that many trans women now needed to go overseas for their surgeries, and I felt guilty for that. (A year later, the specialist nurse came back on the proviso that my surgeon update his practice to allow hormones in the perioperative period, and they are back offering genital surgeries)

I helped my ex move and get settled, and she told me she felt so guilty leaving me as I was the nicest person she had ever met, and I told her we had a relationship which transcended marriage and living together, and that I would always be there for her. I had never lived alone in my life and now I had to go home to an empty house. It was really empty as most of the furniture was my exes so all I had was a bed and a table. How did my life get to here?

Then I got a UTI, and in the process, my doctor discovered I had early stage kidney disease. After 15 years with almost no sick time off work, I was having lots of time off. As I had heard nothing from the workplace authority, I chased them up, but they refused to talk to me. My union had kicked off a mediation for compensation for workplace stress, but I wasn't interested in money, I just wanted to have my say about my job changes. I was awarded costs for medical and time off, but I had to sign an agreement not to sue. By now I had worked out that while I was away recovering from my surgery, one of my co workers proposed the changes to my manager, and she knew it would my job less enjoyable. They had spoken to a couple of other co workers who went along, and it was decided without my input. We were so close in the past, they had been so supportive when I came out, they felt like family, and now I felt so betrayed.

In returned to work for just 2 more weeks in that year, and injured my shoulder. Adapting to society as a female was so much a background issue with everything else going on in my life. It made me realise that being trans was not my whole life, it was just something that happened to me which I had now dealt with.

Hugs,

Allie

My new year resolution was to move on from my former life, so I returned to scuba diving locally, and bought a camper trailer. I had accrued a lot of leave from my job, and planned to exhaust it all before I retired.It was great to get back in the water, and do some travelling, but I still struggled with being alone.

I had developed breasts on HRT, but they were not prominent on my big frame, and were a half a cup asymmetric. A trans friend tried to convince me to get implants, but since my bottom surgery, I really didn't have much dysphoria, and tbh, I wasn't comfortable with the idea of implants. But it would address some practical considerations like getting a bra that fit! So it was for purely cosmetic reasons that I had breast augmentation.

It was just a month later when I went to bed with a sore neck. Around 4 am, the pain spread to my left arm. It wasn't severe pain, but I rang the emergency number to be safe. 11 minutes later, the ambulance arrived, and despite my insistence that I felt basically fine, they loaded me into the ambulance. I was talking to the paramedic, basically apologising for wasting his time, then he was saying "are you with me?" I hadn't detected a break in our conversation, but he informed me that I had suffered a cardiac arrest, and had been through a full CPR and Defib session! I really couldn't believe him until I noticed we were parked in a street. and now the emergency lights were on. We headed toward the hospital with more urgency, and then he was asking me if I was with him again. I had a second arrest and CPR.

They found the blockage and I left hospital a week later with a stent. The head of the cardiac unit quizzed me to try establish a cause as my blood tests, lifestyle and family history did not show strong risks. He asked me about stress in my life, and I explained about being trans and the dramas of the previous year. He said "Bingo!", and explained to me how chronic stress is underrated as a cause of cardiac disease. He also told me that only 1% of out of hospital cardiac arrests leave hospital with almost no brain or heart damage like I was. My lessons learned were (1) ring the ambulance early, and (2) avoid chronic stress.

I was nervous that having a paramedic pounding my chest might have damaged my implants, so my surgeon arranged for scans to check them, and amazingly, they were intact! In the next months, I noticed far fewer people misgendered me, and I realised that it was due to me having more appropriate breasts for my size. I thanked my  trans friend for pushing me to get the implants!

Another new year, and my challenge this year was to join social groups to meet new people and make new friends. It seemed to involve a lot of eating out, but I met some lovely people. Now, I never believed I was passable, so I was surprised when a gentleman my age asked me out! I had tried to imagine what I might do in this situation, but could never find an answer. I was flattered, and happy, but, in truth, this guy did nothing for me. I agreed to be open to a friendship in a social setting, but it was clear, he wanted more. I told him I was trans, and he said he had no idea, but it din't make any difference! Then he asked if I had 'the operation'! I knew then what he wanted, and I tried to dissuade him. He tricked the secretary of our club to give him my phone number, and pursued me at home, so I simply told him I was not interested in a romantic relationship as I was still in love with my ex.

I developed a couple of friendships with women, and I regularly saw them, so I was not feeling so lonely, but I still had days where I would watch a movie about a happy couple and it would have me in tears because that would never be me. My ex and I talk to each other every few days, and catch up face to face every couple of weeks. We will never get back together, as I doubt I could survive another breakup.

I finally ran out of leave and retired, and I have been prevented from taking on casual work due to ongoing health issues, but I was 70 by now, and it was time anyway. I live for my family, and keep busy with my friends, and most days I simply forget I am trans. This is helped by my electrolysis finally being over, I will just go back a couple of time per year to get the odd hairs which pop up. I am getting used to being retired, and being more active participating and organising events for my groups. My Sundays are taken up with running a zoom meeting for 5 hours to keep in touch with friends I have made at Susan's and other forums, and my grandchildren stay with me on the school holidays. There is a life after transition, but you do have to actively go for it!

Hugs,

Allie

Allie, Glad you survived the heart attack unscathed. Stress can be a real killer. It must be nice getting back into scuba diving. If I remember right, that was a huge part of your life pre-transition. It is on my bucket list to learn and get certified.
Wish you the best
Gina

Quote from: Gina P on January 23, 2026, 07:56:20 AMAllie, Glad you survived the heart attack unscathed. Stress can be a real killer. It must be nice getting back into scuba diving. If I remember right, that was a huge part of your life pre-transition. It is on my bucket list to learn and get certified.
Wish you the best
Gina

Thank you Gina, I can't emphasise enough how dangerous stress can be, and trans people would experience more than other folks. Dysphoria is a kind of stress, and I thought I could 'manage' it forever, but all the time it was taking a toll. Being underwater is my 'mindful' place, and is probably why I was able to get through so many years of dysphoria. I moved to where my main dive sites are, bought a dive boat and ran a dive club for 35 years, so I was able to de stress most weekends. Problems of the world just don't follow us under the surface, and we can be totally involved with staying alive, and soaking in the environment. Hopefully, you will experience this!

My blog spans 70 years, and during that time I went through many phases of understanding of what was happening to me, given the available knowledge of the times. I hope that my story helps others understand, and to identify similarities in their own lives so they can learn where I went wrong, and maybe they can follow a better path.

I am so lucky that I live in an amazing country where inclusion is valued, and gender identity is a protected asset in law, but mostly, that we have a casual culture. There are no religions dominant in our culture, and as our population growth has mainly been through immigration, we are a multicultural society. The rise of the far right overseas has emboldened radicals here, but our society does not tolerate attacks on others, be it race, religion, or identity. Since transitioning I have travelled to many places in Australia, both cities and rural areas, and never had a bad experience. I know this is not the case in many other countries, and it makes me sad.

My life now is comfortable, safe, enjoyable, but, at times, lonely. I need someone to care for in my life, to wake up next to, and to cuddle, but being asexual, trans, and in my 70's, I know my chance of finding someone is slim. I immerse myself in family, especially my young grandchildren, and cherish every second I am with them, but there are a lot of seconds when I am alone. I know plenty of cis women who are alone and lonely, so it's not just a trans thing, but being trans doesn't help.

I have my trans family, here, and on my weekly zooms (with most participants old members from Susan's, plus some others), and it helps me explore things specific to us. But I know now that being trans is just a small part of my life, and there is a world to experience outside.

Hugs,

Alie   

My town hosts a Hot Rod weekend every year, and I was setting up my viewing area for the street parade when the trolley with all my chairs, food and drinks rolled on its side. My back isn't what it used to be so a nice man came to my rescue, and helped roll it back up on its wheels. I thanked him and he struck up a conversation with me for a few minutes until I excused myself to continue setting up. Once I was settled, he came back 'to see if everything was ok'.

My sister in law nudged me and whispered 'he's chatting you up!' I thanked him again and made an excuse to get back to the show. He left. Later that night, I thought about my conundrum. I am often lonely, and miss having someone constantly in my life, but when the rare opportunity arises, I push potential partners away. I know it is partly due to me being asexual, but also that losing my wife was so painful, I can't bear the thought of going through that again.

I guess I am not alone in this community, as other trans people wrestle with the same conundrum. I am really flattered that some men might see me as a woman, but wonder if they tag me as trans and are curious. Maybe one day my loneliness may get to the point where I will take a chance....

Hugs,

Allie

You sound like me Allie.

I have spent the vast majority of my life single (some teenage girlfriends but thats it) I never see the opportunities when I have had them. People often point them out and I either don't believe them or come up with excuses not to do anything. I used to tell myself it was because I was trans and "it wouldn't be fair" or simply "no she doesn't fancy me that can't be right". I wonder if I am really asexual or whether I am just terrified of people finding out about the real me and a fear of rejection from that.

I live on my own, and don't have any brothers or sisters and have a very small circle of friends. So I do also have times where I am lonely but I have become so used to it that most of the time it doesn't bother me. I keep myself busy with lots of hobbies and learning new skills and have a feline friend for company. I do realise this is probably not healthy.

I do sometimes wonder what I am missing out on though. I wonder if I might feel different when I fully transition as I think the fear of being discovered has held me back socially.

Since coming on this site I've opened up to the point that I feel like I'm posessed! Stottie Girl feels like a completely different person! I don't know if female me would react the same when faced with possible attaction in the future.

Maybe you should consider throwing caution to the wind next time it happens. I have a feeling I might!

I am the same way.

Throughout my life, people assumed I was gay because I did not date anyone. In those days, you were either straight or gay, and gay got a beating. I learned much later in life that I am asexual, which explains three failed marriages and a lot of failed relationships. When I do get hit on, I am flattered, but I wonder the same things: Is he flirting because he thinks I'm gay? Or is it because I am trans? Or is it because I am passing and he is clueless?

Over time, I realized the answer to those questions was, "Does it matter?" If the conversation goes in that direction, I tell the truth. If they are still interested, then it isn't about my body; they are interested in me. Sometimes, it is both. My neighbor is bi and is attracted to transwomen, so he flirts, but our conversations are more about common interests than sex. That is because he knows that I have no interest in that department.

Quote from: Lori Dee on February 07, 2026, 10:12:58 AMI am the same way.

Throughout my life, people assumed I was gay because I did not date anyone. In those days, you were either straight or gay, and gay got a beating. I learned much later in life that I am asexual, which explains three failed marriages and a lot of failed relationships. When I do get hit on, I am flattered, but I wonder the same things: Is he flirting because he thinks I'm gay? Or is it because I am trans? Or is it because I am passing and he is clueless?

Over time, I realized the answer to those questions was, "Does it matter?" If the conversation goes in that direction, I tell the truth. If they are still interested, then it isn't about my body; they are interested in me. Sometimes, it is both. My neighbor is bi and is attracted to transwomen, so he flirts, but our conversations are more about common interests than sex. That is because he knows that I have no interest in that department.

Perhaps my journey isn't quite so different! Where and when I grew up it was a death sentence to be different. The 14 year old boy across the road may have been gay, but he was different, and 4 teenagers kicked him to death in front of a crowd, but nobody saw a thing...

There was no terminology for trans back then, but I realised what I was even without a name for it. I really tried to be 'normal' but after kissing a girl, it just felt wrong. My mother thought I was gay, so she set me up on blind dates, and I married one of these girls because I desperately needed as baby. But sex was not pleasurable for each of us and I would feel guilty after each time. She left me partly because I was trans, partly because I could not sexually satisfy her (she found someone who could), but mostly because she could not handle being a mother. In the years since of retrospect, I feel I used her to achieve something I needed, and I carry guilt for that.

I already knew the lady who was to be my second wife, and she saw me as that guy who was likely gay, so safe to be with, and over the years I was the shoulder she cried on after breakups with boyfriends. We were best friends, and went on holidays together, sharing accommodations as she felt I would never try to have sex with her, and she was right! It was nearly a decade later that she was sexually frustrated and used me. I went along because at the time I didn't know what I should do, but she was dismayed at how little I knew about sex. She taught me many ways to satisfy her, and eventually decided we should get married. I did have enjoyable sex for the first time, always followed by guilt, but I realised that my performance was basically a mechanical process, and mentally, I just wanted my soul mate to be happy.

That guy was likely just flirting with me, as many people do to bolster their egos, but I did have a persistent suitor who I told I was trans, and he wanted to proceed anyway! I avoided him til he went away, but it made me wonder how I could ever have someone else in my life. My dream is that I will meet someone, male, female, or whoever, who shares my interests and we organically spend more and more time together until we are never apart. Sex very optional. But this is basically a repeat of my last relationship. What are the chances that will ever happen again? And as I am in my 70's, I am running out of time!

I have decided I will not seek out a partner, but just try to be more open to developing a friendship that develops, but in reality, a close friendship will do. I just need hugs. Chances are slim for a trans woman in her 70's, but not none!

Hugs,

Allie

Never say never Allie!

I know what you mean about sex feeling wrong. For me, It was an overwhelming feeling that I should have been in her position, the roles were supposed to be be reversed. It was like I was acting a role but it felt wrong on so many levels that I never wanted to feel that way again. So I resolved to never go down that road again.

Looking back, I can see that frankly I ran away and perhaps if I had addressed it then, my life would be very different but back then there were no trans icons to look up to, no examples to follow. I wasn't aware there was another path. I felt like a freak and decided to hide myself away rather than deal with it. I can't get that time back but I can make changes now and in the future.

I honestly don't know if I could accept a relationship with a man. It's weird in that I don't find men particularly attractive but I am very much attracted to the idea of having a "hetro" relationship as a woman.

Only you can decide if you are ready to accept advances from prospective partners again but we have so much lost time, taking a punt may turn out to be the best decision you ever make.

For me, I think I would want to explore more if the opportunity ever presented itself (which sadly it hasn't) But, you know you, and whatever makes you happy is the right course of action.

I'm not far behind you, Allie.

I'm 68, and I wonder the same things. I am content living alone, but part of me wonders "What if...?"

I sometimes joke that I will be 98 and living in a nursing home, and want to jump the cute guy who lives down the hall.

Never say never.

Yes as I am 70 and on my own I do not look out for anyone, if it happens it happens but where will I find some one that likes hot rods, making stuff and cooking Indian food? Happy in my own company anyway.

Quote from: davina61 on February 08, 2026, 03:35:04 AMYes as I am 70 and on my own I do not look out for anyone, if it happens it happens but where will I find some one that likes hot rods, making stuff and cooking Indian food? Happy in my own company anyway.

Davina, I guess this would be the common approach among us older trans women, but maybe different for those in their 50's or younger. I have joined some older peoples social groups, and I find that they are 85% women, only around half of them in relationships, and the singles have a similar outlook. I socialise about 2 times per week, with family time and looking after myself (gym, swimming, bike riding), and zooming with my trans group for 6 hours on Sundays, my life is pretty full. I miss hugs.

Hugs,

Allie

Quote from: Allie Jayne on February 08, 2026, 05:31:40 AMI miss hugs.

Hugs,

Allie

Awww it's a shame you are so far. If you came to my local furry meet I could guarantee you as many hugs as you want! Some in big furry animal suits mind 🙂

Allie,


I hope you have a very nice day today.  Happy Valentine's Day!


Chrissy

Quote from: ChrissyRyan on February 14, 2026, 10:20:53 AMAllie,


I hope you have a very nice day today.  Happy Valentine's Day!


Chrissy

Thank you Chrissy! That is very nice of you!

Of course I was aware of Valentines with all the media, but you are the only person who gave me wishes so thanks! I know it is part of being trans to miss out on these celebrations for many of us, so I hope those who do have a special someone read this and realise how blessed they are.

I did buy myself some Tim Tams to celebrate..

Hugs,

Allie

@Allie Jayne
Dear Allie:
Today March 1st is your special day... your BIRTHDAY
🎂 💐 🎉   (https://www.susans.org/Smileys/susans/icon_birthday.gif)        (https://www.susans.org/Smileys/susans/icon_birthday.gif)        (https://www.susans.org/Smileys/susans/icon_birthday.gif)    🎉 💐 🎂
                   
      I am so very glad that you have been here on the Forum 
      as a long time contributing member.
     
      I trust that you are staying healthy and safe.
      and Ialways look forward to your sharing and posting.
 

Have a wonderful day of Birthday Celebrations on your "special day".

HUGS, and my best wishes,
Danielle [Northern Star Girl]
The Forum Administrator
                      (https://i.imgur.com/sldYiP9m.jpg)

Quote from: Northern Star Girl on March 01, 2026, 06:32:12 PM@Allie Jayne
Dear Allie:
Today March 1st is your special day... your BIRTHDAY
    🎂  💐  🎉    (https://www.susans.org/Smileys/susans/icon_birthday.gif)        (https://www.susans.org/Smileys/susans/icon_birthday.gif)        (https://www.susans.org/Smileys/susans/icon_birthday.gif)      🎉  💐  🎂
                   
    I am so very glad that you have been here on the Forum 
      as a long time contributing member.
     
      I trust that you are staying healthy and safe.
      and I always look forward to your sharing and posting.
 

Have a wonderful day of Birthday Celebrations on your "special day".

HUGS, and my best wishes,
Danielle [Northern Star Girl]
The Forum Administrator
                      (https://i.imgur.com/sldYiP9m.jpg)

Thank you Danielle! I have my blood related family, and my trans family, and I am so happy to be fondly remembered by both on my Birthday! I spent 5 hours online with Lexxi, Donica, Kathy, Michelle & Laurie, and Nicole, all Susan's members we have known for many years, and shared our journeys. We spend time with each other every week, more time than I spend with my relatives! This is how important this community is to me, and I'm sure many others at Susan's.

I'm looking forward to many more years with my favourite people!

Hugs,

Allie

Belated happy birthday my dear.