I did write about it in some detail in some post somewhere but I can't find it just at the moment so can't link to it. Essentially it was a perfect storm of variables, unhappy with progress on HRT (two years and tiny, tiny bumps for boobs), feeling emotionally and financially insecure, afraid to come out to my family, being alone, alienated and professionally unsupported...a whole bunch of things.
This was the early 1990s, there may have been a community in Sydney, but there wasn't anything online (no internet to speak of) and I wasn't part of anything. But yes, I did cut myself off from the notion of being trans*, decided I must have been delusional and went into denial. I'm ashamed to say I became transphobic and even homophobic, not in any overt way - I kept that to myself, certainly never turned it into a manifesto against others but it was still a reprehensible attitude. It's the only way I could "prove" there was "nothing wrong" with myself. Sad, sad, sad.
Even though I've been thinking about retransitioning for the last 14 years, it was those attitudes and the memory of the last attempt that kept me away. But the desire, the raw need to be a woman won out in the end. It was either retransition or drown myself in anti-depressants. So here I am, 7 months in on HRT and wondering why the hell it took me so long to pull my head out if my a$$!