This is actually something that has oft occupied my mind as of late. I grew up pretty conservatively christian, but was never told much about being gay, trans, etc, outside of it just being wrong. End of story. I started having "physical attractions" to men when I was about 13, and proceeded to go through a whole gay porn secrecy/guilt cycle until I reached adulthood. I didn't even let myself think I could be gay, because I was convinced I was awful for having any sort of attractions that countered the heteronormative.
I ended up leaving the church and coming out at 21, after an intense year of sorting things out and trying to find truth. But I ended up wearing "gay" on my sleeve (and my chest, and my head, etc) and that was the only thing about me that mattered. Truth is, I was more miserable after coming out. I was constantly critical of myself, physically and otherwise, to the point that I couldn't see a solitary good thing of merit.
Between the ages of 25-28, I went through deep changes, and I learned a lot more about myself than I'd even wanted to. The characteristics and elements of me that were good, that I grew to love and admire myself for. And then in 2015, I was struck hard by the blatant realization that I was trans...and it freaked me out. I remember driving down I-90, sobbing and crying out "no" over and over. I don't know why it was so detrimental. Maybe because I'd gone so long without knowing that it was overwhelming. Maybe because I knew there would be so much work and possible pain involved. Maybe because I thought I was finally getting to a point that I was stable and happy and able to see a good future. That last thing was actually the reason I was able to realize my identity. I was stable enough. I ended up pushing all of it back out to the point of "forgetting" until last summer.
This time, instead of a whack in the head, my learning my identity was a slow, albeit enjoyable process. I started using makeup while working a short stint with a network marketing cosmetics company. I took to it so quickly and I loved (and love) using makeup regularly more than I thought I would. Then I happened upon a retail job on a whim, which ended up being a door to wearing women's clothes more frequently. It was during this early stage that I looked in the mirror and began to cry, but this time with joy. I felt so so happy to catch a glimpse of the girl I really am. The last several months have been full of discovery and hope.
Anyway, here I've gone and rattled on in pseudo coming-out-story fashion. But to simply answer your question (too late!), I absolutely blocked it all out. So much and so hard, that I was constantly miserable but could never figure out why. My mother told me this when I came out to her, that she's known there was something but could never figure out why I hated myself. Now I've unblocked it all, I can't believe I would torture myself for so long.