Where do I go?
It started when I was very young, maybe 5 or 6 I would beg my older sisters to play dress up and dress me in dresses. They told I was a very pretty little boy and could easily pass for a girl. That is my first memory of something that was different. Something that now makes perfect sense but then was... then it was just weird. Weird and normal all at the same time because it's all I knew.
I was very shy and I hated having my picture taken, still do. Now it's because I hate my masculine features, then because I was so shy. I cried a lot too. Way more than normal. I think back now and realize why. It makes me cry.
Memories have faded but around 11 or 12 I started shaving the body hair that had started growing. Things did not seem right until everything was smooth down there. I started tucking things away around then, I didn't know why, I just did it. It seemed normal.
I also enjoyed using female mannerisms. I'd swing my hips. I'd avert my eyes. I'd twirl my hair. It was long then. No more.
I enjoyed wearing my sister's underwear and bras on occasion but it was not a drive and it was never sexual. I so wanted to be a girl. I remember lying awake at nights thinking about it and then daydreaming during school. I look at old pictures of myself and see a beautiful girl wearing boy's clothes with a boy's haircut.
I managed to keep my thoughts and shaving a secret for the most part till high school. I think my sister knew but never said anything until much later. High school and the rush of Testosterone came along around 15 or so. Testostorone and high school changed everything and I stopped shaving my body hair. The boys in the locker room just would not have understood if I displayed myself naked without any body hair. Naked in the locker room... that's a whole other set of mental trauma.
I think the testosterone allowed me to play the part of the boy, dating girls and doing all the things that boys do at that age. I was reckless and even picked dangerous sports but all non-contact during my late teen years. I was never once in a fight, it was not me.
The whole time I felt girly inside, that's the best way to explain it. Even though sports and weight lifting had transformed my slender feminine body into a mass of muscle. I was extremely competitive and very successful in athletics. I started the 9th grade at 5-10 110lbs and by the 12th grade was only 130lbs but was the strongest person in my class. Ripped and fit I was all male.
But one of my memories from that last year of high school was sitting in the weight room, alone, all alone, so utterly alone, with my legs crossed like a girl, a tear running down my cheek, flexing my bicep, wondering what I had done to myself.
I have many memories of wearing very short shorts. A lot of guys would also go shirtless. I liked the attention from the girls but I was never comfortable without a shirt on even though I had by all accounts an impressive body. In addition to feeling naked, my nipples are very large for a genetic male.
Outwardly I think I acted in a masculine way during these years. Inside, I felt my girlish strut, my hip wiggle. The way I touched my hair. The way I smiled. I saw a beautiful girl in my minds eye.
Fast forward a few years, I dated and then married my soul mate. I married the girl I wanted to be and the girl I wanted to sleep with, the girl I wanted to be best friends with. I had hit the jackpot. She had a body to die for and a girly girl personality that would not quit. It was my life's achievement and I was on top of the world. I did not know it at the time but she became the most amazing mother too.
Coulda, shoulda, woulda. But things were too perfect to change. Any thoughts I had about sharing my feelings were pushed down. Way down. I tried wearing some of her things and makeup after we were married. I felt like I was cheating on her. So I pushed it further down.
My life with my soul mate progressed. We would go to "chic-flicks" together. She would cry. I would reach over to comfort her, my hand on hers. Tears rolling down my cheeks, silently. She never knew.
We would fight. She would cry. I would clam up. The fight would be over and she would go to sleep. The emotion would burst out, the sound held in by a pillow. A release of all my female emotions I could not hold in. She thought I was the coldest person but I just could not tell her. Not then.
Only a couple of times during our marriage has she seen me have an emotional melt-down. A complete, all female, all out, crying emotional fit. One time soon after we were married. I could tell it scared her. I tried not to do it again.
My career was on a fast track in large part due to my competitive nature. Our life's rocked along for about ten years. Ups and downs like any marriage for a while then I grew more and more depressed. I did not know why. All thoughts from my younger years were re-pressed. Deep inside. My soul mate and my children came first.
I had to make a change. I left my safe, stable career in my early thirties to strike out on my own. I thought that is what I wanted, that that is what I was looking for. At first I was afraid, I hesitated. A wife, children, a huge mortgage. My amazing wife encouraged me. She said "It does not matter if we are poor, all that matters to me is that you're happy".
Twelve years now and multiple successful ventures later(software engineer) and I'm still looking. We have a good life. Not overtly rich but comfortable. One adult child left at home and all of my children are some of my best and closet friends. I'm proud of what we have accomplished.
The feelings started again about a year ago. They must be deep seated. What do I want?
I weigh about 165 but I'd love to have my slender body back. I'd love to have my pre-pubescent face back. I'd love to have breasts. I'd love to wear sexy clothes. I'd love to be a total female. I can't do this half way. If I start it's whole thing. It's the way I'm made. All or nothing.
And there is this most incredible women. A women that every one of you would be
so proud to call a friend. A women whose happiness means more to me than mine. The woman that has put me before herself so many times. Too many times. The woman I can barely stand to see hurt by others. She does not have a clue.
The women that loves me. I ask myself does she love me for who I am on the outside or who I am on the inside? I know the answer. I truly know the answer. She would be steadfast by my side as she has always been for nearly 20 years.
What about the kids and friends and people who know me?
So here I am confused. Afraid and alone. So utterly alone.
Am I what I think I am?
Inside I say yes.
Some of my traits say no.
Or am I still looking?
Or is this just a male mid-life crisis at 43?
I ask myself these things each night as the pillow forces my head down straining to keep the noise inside as I cry myself to sleep.
Where do I go from here?
maybe Amanda