Who am I? It is a harder question to answer than one might think; I am not even certain myself anymore.
Until about a month ago I would have identified myself as a hetero male with a CD fetish.
I had a kind of a nervous breakdown a few weeks ago. I have had a pretty serious drinking problem for years, and it had been really strong at the time just before the breakdown -- getting passing out drunk on wine, whiskey, or both 4 or 5 nights a week. I believed that my substance abuse was somehow related to something with my crossdressing, but I really didn't know what the connection was.
My wife had identified a therapist that specialized both in gender identity and substance abuse, and was strongly recommending (in a very supportive way, I should add -- my wife is so much more than I could ever deserve) that I schedule an appointment with this therapist.
I finally came around to making an appointment, and the appointment happened to fall during during a week off of work for me. The appointment was scheduled for a Thursday -- the 20th of March. On that Tuesday, I had the house all to myself, and I decided to spend the day writing about myself and my personal history, so that I was prepared to talk to the therapist. I also decided to spend the day presenting as a woman, because I know that I am better able to get in touch with my feelings when I do.
So, I started writing. And writing. And writing. I wrote for about 6 hours, I think. Most of it was very, very dry, rational boring stuff about places, dates, and events. Posing and answering questions like "When did I start crossdressing?", "How has it affected my relationships?", "How long have I been married?", and other stuff like that. It was all relevant, but it was all very sort of factual left-brainy kind of stuff.
And then I wrote the following paragraph about loneliness:
"Several times today when I have thought about the idea of loneliness or being lonely I have teared up, making me think that loneliness is the core of the emotional issues that are in front of me. I am incredibly lonely. [My male name, redacted] doesn't have many friends. Alex doesn't have any friends. I don't know what I want or what will make me happy. So many of my thoughts about Alex over the years have been about sex - fantasizing what it would be like for Alex to be with a man sexually. [My wife] would let me have that experience if the opportunity was there. Actually, more than let me: [My wife] is supportive of Alex having relationships of any kind if that is what it will take for me to feel whole, and has offered to work to set up whatever is needed for Alex to be safe and feel loved. Sex as Alex would be great, but I don't think that would solve the whole problem. I need friends that know and like all of me. (Crying as I write that.) I need to feel liked, loved, respected, accepted and nurtured by people other than my wife, and this secret means that no one, not my mother, not my children, no one knows about me and is able to accept and love all of me. I am not ready to go there with my family. It is just too damn weird. But I need something."
And that was when it all came tumbling out. All of the pain, the loneliness, the regret, all of it. I started crying and I just couldn't stop. Not just crying -- bawling, screaming, utterly lost in pain and anguish. I think I ended up crying inconsolably for something like 6 straight hours. For the remainder of that week I barely slept or ate, and I cried over and over and over again. I did meet with the therapist as scheduled, and have met with her weekly since then.
That whole experience was so incredibly weird. In that moment of the breakdown I could see my drinking for exactly what it was for the very first time in my life: a way of numbing the pain of wanting wholeness with my male and female selves. I had shut practically the whole world out because the pain of not being able to walk in the world as myself -- even though I'm not 100% sure who that person is going to turn out to be -- was too much to bear sober.
I had a drink the afternoon of the breakdown because I didn't know how else to try and calm down -- no skills, you know? But I have only had one drink since then (a beer with dinner dining out with a friend, because I didn't really know how to deal with that situation after the friend ordered a drink). Other than that I have neither had nor wanted a drink. I have to feel these feelings. They are real, and if I don't address them I just don't know how I can live. I am just not going back to the way things were. I can't live in a closet, and I can't shut out my feelings.
Who am I? I don't know.
I'm not a hetero guy with a CD fetish, I know that. I don't think I'm transgender (I don't want to change my genitals; I feel happy with what I have -- however, I also know that I have been terribly dishonest with myself about this issue over the years and I don't trust my feelings 100%). I have (foolishly, I know) taken hormones (I told myself it was to support my CD fetish -- I have been very effective at self-deception over the years) and have as a result a fair amount of breast development (being overweight and abusing alcohol are factors as well, I'm sure). But I know that when I look in the mirror that my body is supposed to be shaped that way -- that I am supposed to have breasts.
Aside from the physical stuff, I know that I need to be able to present at times as a woman -- seeing myself that way is incredibly calming. I also know that I have a need -- a genuine need -- to be able to live in the real world as that person, at least some of the time. Not as a sexual creature only -- that's the mistake I have been making all these years. I need to be able to live and have real experiences in the real world: take a walk in a park, pick a flower, hold someone's hand. I want to feel the exhilaration of the mundane.
Who am I? I don't know. Whoever I am, I need to be accepted and I need to be loved for being that person -- all of me. (My wife loves and accepts me and is incredibly nurturing of these needs, but my needs are far more than can be met by a single person.)
I don't know how I get there. I don't even know where I am going.
All I know for sure is I can't go there with only my wife knowing the truth.
So, I am here. I hope to find this place welcoming and supportive, and I hope that I can learn from other people's experiences. Ideally, I would be able to meet people in my local area, but the prospect of seems scary -- I have been in the closet for so long.
Apologies for the length of this. It has been an eventful month.
