It has become one interesting thread indeed...
Amazing and heartbreaking story, Cindi... it seems you've been through a lot.
Some further thoughts about stealth...
While we are all different, we all share the same condition. It seems that many people live under the shadow of ulterior motive, in some shape or form. It is said that a relationship is built on trust, but I am not sure that it truly is. Psychology tells that everybody lies. Lying is essential for social cohesion. I don't see being stealth as lying, it actually has some parallels in being genuine.
I think that I am not obliged to retrograde the past and share every minute issue with every new person that I meet, and excuse myself for every detail in life. I like to fantasize that everyone has some secret they will never share with anyone. There seems to be this burden to completely disclose and
confess everything once we step out the closet. As if we are expected to be an open book for anyone who inquires us. A kind of mental groping. And I don't like that situation and the demands that are being put on us. My past is like the tree from last winter; leafless, bleak and boring. It's nothing like today.
And as long these warped narratives, like: "Man becoming a Woman" exists, I will continue to take on the cloak of stealth. Which actually means that I live my full potential and genuine truth and won't excuse myself having had medical issues. I am not signing up for insurance where I need to disclose and fill out a questionnaire. No, I am in love and and I date another human being who incidentally likes me for who I am today, not some haunted ghost in the attic of my mind, someone I never was...
As it currently stands, I don't think I will disclose anything to anyone anymore. If some ask, I guess then they already know and even then I will not disclose anything unless they share something similar and profound. In the end, it is nobody's business even if you never be able to pass. They will never know for sure. And that's fine. I am no longer a victim of circumstances, nor a heroine who conquered some horrendous struggle. I guess I am becoming
normal, which is quite hilarious in some sense.
I tasted what it is like living as a female, and although the complete experience was brief, it made all the pain of transitioning vanish. I like to taste more. Maybe it is a kind of psychological heaven, a blissful dream that became reality, it truly felt good and it made me happy. And isn't happiness one of our main goals in life? I like to think it is.