Well, 1998 is off and running. Yesterday, I got me some shoes. Two pair to be precise. Got a pair of black ankle boots with a 1 1/2" chunky heel and a pair of black pumps, same heel height. I resisted the urge to get a pair of f**k-me pumps (I'm a nice girl, really!) and went more conservative. Had a lot of fun getting them.
Today, Jan 1, 1998 the wife, daughter and myself went to NYC to the Museum for the day. I got to wear my boots! I was thrilled. As I suspected, no one noticed, and if they did, they didn't care. It felt weird, as I haven't worn any heels in over four years. I dug it none the less.
Major accomplishment in dressing... Not really, but hey, its a start!
Hope everyone had a great New Years. For the moment, 1998 seems like it just might be OK.
Love to ya all,
The way individuals define their situations constitutes, for them, their reality, regardless of how things may appear to others.
Usenet post - Subject: Re: cycles
In article <firstname.lastname@example.org>, email@example.com says...
Another factor - which probably popped the bubble - was the reference someone made yesterday to http://www3.sympatico.ca/taylor_buckner/transves.htm. I found it and printed it out. I read it yesterday afternoon and it struck home. I identified strongly with the progression described and it left me feeling a bit weak and pathetic.
OK, I got the article (a bit dated - 27 years ago!) and read it. I wanted to wretch. And to think, this guy was supposed to be HELPING people! Based on the works of others dating back to 1948, how can this be of any real value today. Hell, he mentions how electro-shock aversion therapy was used as a 'cure'! (I wonder if they tried lobotomies too!)
I have long maintained a that the difference between transvestism and crossdressing was the predominantly sexual aspect usually associated with transvestism. Regardless, this entire work is offensive to the entire T* community. He manages to slam just about everything that isn't man on top, woman on bottom sex.
Did I see myself in there at all. Sure I did; bits and pieces hear and there. I mean, after all, he did interview some (a whopping seven) TVs for this scholarly treatise. I've got to have *something* in common. But for the most part, his progression just ain't me.
Step 1: Association of some item of feminine wearing apparel with sexual gratification - I've gotten myself off both with and without fem stuff. I don't now, or in the past need a prop to do it.
Step 2: Perceived heterosexual difficulties - Low self esteem, had it. Don't measure up to the 'male' ideal, had it too. Low level of sexual interest, not bloody likely!
Step 3: Blockage of the homosexual outlet - No F**kin' way! I like my partners sans extra equipment, thank you very much! The association of this with homosexuality really disgusts me. I've no problem with homosexuality, but to equate TVism with repressed, latent homosexual feelings... PLEASE!
Step 4: Elaboration of masturbation fantasies into the development of a feminine self - The premise here is that you become your own lover, carrying on an intimate ersatz relation with your other, feminine self. I don't know about everyone else here, but
Also, the notion that wives/girlfriends who are supportive as having problems themselves makes me want to want to throw this bonehead into a wood chipper! We know that our mates are far from disturbed for loving us.
You know, I'm getting sick just going over this. The only lasting impression this made is the knot of nausea I will have for the rest of the day.
I have filed this pseudo-intellectual flotsam where it belongs. I do, however, encourage everyone to give this article the once over, though. I shows how far the world has come in almost three decades.
Jade, (I *will* continue to call you Jade, jockeys or not!), don't put too much credence in this piece of history you found. You are anything but weak and pathetic. It takes a lot of inner strength to accept yourself; so far, you seem to be doing fine.
Love and hugs,
(Who by now, has probably pissed off the world...)
Yesterday was a month ago I wigged out. Today, I'm feeling about the way I did then. Its another cloudy, dreary day here in the Big Apple, the third day in a row; gloomy I think is the word for it. Matches the pervasive gloom which hovers over me most of the time. For the first time in two weeks, I started off the day in tears.
My wife keeps talking about not quitting work. She was going to, but after the initial unburdening of my soul (assuming, of course, I have one... oops, wrong thread), she has taken the position that she may need to continue working. Prompted by my declaration that I don't know ultimately where I'll wind up in all of this, she feels, and rightly (I guess) that she needs to keep her own interests in sight. I don't blame her for this. Combined with the current hormone cocktail that seems to accompanies pregnancy, she is more than entitled to her mood swings. It still makes me feel like crap.
Five o'clock this morning, she tells me that she's going to find someone to watch the kids so she can go back to work full time. A little back and forth and we're back to how I can't promise her what the future will hold. Christ, who can guarantee anything in life? Again, it's not her fault, she has a right to be a bit unsure. I tell her that she's doing it again. "What?" she asks. "Planning you life without me again..."
I start to lose it. I'm upset, she's upset. Friggin' great way to start the day! She says that she didn't want to make me all upset. Hell, just another day in paradise for me!
Rainy days depress me as it is. After three of them, and this morning's 'thing' I'm about ready to open a vein. Calls to the therapist I found have gone unanswered. I feel the transmission (also called a tranny, how ironic!) slowly slipping into reverse as I approach the hill.
After three gloomy days, my mind start to get a bit loopy.
And so it goes...
Standing on the train this morning (always a joy) I realize I'm dressed for the day: black shoes, black socks, black jeans, black grey & white (very little) sweater; allows me to remain unnoticed to the world. All fem clothes, but it does little to lift my spirits.
Awash in self pity (and a dash of self loathing to help keep my spirits down) - It really sucks being me.
I just can't anymore...
Day four of dreary weather. Woke up better today. On the way to the train, a three minute drive, I hear 'I'm Just A Girl' by No Doubt. Strange that in that specific point in time, of all the songs possible I hear that. The following sets my mood:
The moment that I step outside
So many reasons for me to run and hide
I can't do the little things I hold so dear
'Cause it's all those little things that I fear
'Cause I'm just a girl, I'd rather not be
'Cause they won't let me drive late at night
I'm just a girl, guess I'm some kind of freak
'Cause they all sit and stare with their eyes
Arrived in Manhattan, got downtown, and walked around in the dark and fog for about forty minutes. Just couldn't bring myself to go to work. Started raining, so I dragged myself inside and upstairs. Had the rain not come...
The sun is supposed to out tomorrow. Maybe I'll feel better.
In the beginning there was nothing. And God said, "Let there be light!" And there was still nothing, you could just see it better.
Usenet post - Subject: Donna doesn't live here anymore
Friday night/Saturday morning at 1:30am, my wife woke me up about a drean she just had. In it, I was no longer the husband she married and her live was a wreck; a common theme. As we talked, it became clear to me that this deluded idea I have about living a peaceful coexistance with myself is just that, a delusion. My wife says that I'll just keep pushing what I can get away with: pants, shirts, shoes... She's right! I want to wear and be what I want, when I want. Yea, right.
She has stated that she doesn't want to have to keep checking that I am dressed in an 'acceptable' manner. She says that I can do my thing when the kids aren't around, or socially once a week or so. Fact: with a new child, the kids will *always* be around. And as for a weekly outing; I get home to the suburbs at about 6:30pm. Where the hell am I going to go and for how long at that point. It's a nice idea, buy I know better.
Saturday morning, we (my wife, daughter and I) went to Westchester to visit some friends. I cried the entire trip there. I've said it before, self realization is a painful thing. It became clear what I must do.
Relativity states the two objects can not exist in the same space at the same point in time. I now know this to be all too true.
I made a commitment to my wife and kids; a contract, if you will. Terms didn't allow a provision for this.
What I want and what I can have are mutually exclusive. I have but one choice:
I'm sending Donna away.
Donna is like a plant, in need of light, caring and attention. Four years ago, she was shut away, but with just enough light and attention that she survived. I shan't make the same mistake again. This time, with the proper space in which to shut her in, the darkest and most isolated I can find, she'll finally whither and die.
I'm starting the painful process of yet again deconstructing myself and building a more 'socially acceptable' one. With a little luck, I'll make it to see my kids get married.
My web site will remain up. People out there seem to get something from it, and as I've paid for the domain name and such. What's one more site eating up bandwidth?
To all who have been supportive of me: A most heart felt thank you.
To all whom I have helped: I'm glad to have had a positive effect on your lives.
To all who have found the balance in their lives to be themselves: You are truly blessed.
To all those who are struggling with who they are: May you find the peace and happiness which you deserve.
To all the SO out there: Don't give up on us. We really are good people and worth the effort.
Thanks for everything,
Gary (Donna doesn't live here anymore...)
But it was only fantasy.
The wall was too high,
As you can see.
No matter how he tried,
He could not break free.
And the worms ate into his brain.
Usenet post - Subject: Guess Who?
So as not to be confused with someone of a more stable mental demeamor, I am, on advice of counsel (the firm of Dressed & Hart, PC) changing my name. Mind you this is only temporary (very), but necessary.
Jeez Louise! I have bad week and everybody here goes all sappy. Can't a girl have an emotional moment without everyone wiggin' out? For the love of bog, it's not like I was gonna open a vein or something.
Like Bill Shatner to the trekkies - PEOPLE, GET A LIFE!
Whew! That said I appreciate all the posts and support - Again! And Laura, don't be so smug!
I am especially thankful to Doug/Jade for a much needed beating with the guilt stick (special hollow rubber model, most persuasive whilst leving no disernable marks.) Kept emailing till I answered. It took only three, buy I think he would have kept it up indefinitely.
So as to explain a bit better what the hell is my problem, the following is a combination of emails sent to Jade and Joanne:
Excerpt from mail to Jade
Don't dismiss my 'whining' as you call it. It's been fifteen years since I felt this bad and I almost didn't stay for the second half of the show. Yea, I'm lucky I got a supportive wife and such. Fact is that logic and reason don't cut it when one is really depressed. Have you ever been down that low? If not, then don't trivialize it. It sucks big time.
Feeling sorry for myself - yup. Is it well founded - nope. Fact is, that's where I am at the moment. Don't like being there, but that's where I wound up.
The following is most of an email to Joanne. We have a regular email dialog going on. This should help put things in perspective:
Excerpt from mail to Joanne
Spent the morning crying - again. Cried typing my post, cried on the couch, cried sitting in the tub in the shower for about half an hour. I'll more than likely wake up and cry tomorrow. Depression hasn't crept up on me, it's whacked upside my head with a 2x4. I'm probably two steps away from being a manic depressive. Waddaya know - maybe I DO have a disorder after all. This makes a whole week I've felt like shit, with the weekend being the worst. Last time I felt this bad was fifteen years ago, at the start of college.
Saturday and Sunday - dressed the drabbiest I have in months. No desire. Marcy took my daughter to the park this afternoon. Usually, I'd take advantage of the opportunity. No desire. Went to the basement, plugged in the guitar, cranked it up and made my ears ring. I needed to vent. It helped - a little.
Marcy hasn't given up on me finding a happy medium; I have. Maybe I just feel sorry for myself... I don't know (my favorite new phrase!) She asks why all of a sudden I don't think that anything will work? All I can say is "I don't know." I honestly feel that she would give me the space I need to make this work. It seems that I'm the one whose given up.
She realizes (maybe better than I) that I need to deal with this. Too long have I dealt with my problems alone; she tells me that there is nothing wrong with asking for help. Maybe I'm just too scared to find out. Her 1:30am discussion got to me; but she always says not to put too much emphasis on what she says late at night. In the morning, she was of a different mindset. She really wants me to be happy, and get some help doing it.
As for checking up on my dress, she is right: I would keep pushing it. She wants me to not put her and the kids in a compromising position. I can't fault her for that. Maybe because I don't have an outlet yet, I keep pushing. Again - I don't know.
You know, maybe there is just too many variables floating around right now. I feel I can't get a hold of enough of them to start doing something about it.
I know that I can't put Donna back into a box. I want to, sort of, but know that ultimately, either she'll get her way, I'll be miserable the rest of my life, or... well, you're a smart girl, you can figure it out.
I need to get a grip and figure out where I'm going. Marcy wants me to be happy, and not suppress all this. That should tell me something.
End of excerpt to Joanne
OK? I'm scared, confused and feeling sorry for myself. I feel that I border on the verge of being a TS as opposed to a CD. I'm not there yet, but could very well be and it scares the shit out of me! I don't know. What I do know is that I have to deal with this and see where it will go. It's just not coming easy. Nothing about this ever has been.
End of excerpt to Jade
That more or less says it. So... As Laura the oracle predicted, I'm back. Oh hell, I never left. I wanted to, but SOMEONE wouldn't let me.
Face it... You just can't get rid of me!
Love and all that mushy stuff we girls say
We'll see how it goes. My life just keeps on getting more and more interesting!
I've been on a fact finding mission, and Laura has been providing me with much information. I respect her opinions on all this stuff, and her documents are quite informative. She suspected that I'm trying to decide what to do; she's right. I'm in the process of educating myself as best as I can in all of this. I think I know what I want, but just don't want to admit it.
Usenet post - Subject: Identity Trek: TNG
*** WARNING *** WARNING *** WARNING ***
*** WARP PLASMA CONTAINMENT FIELD HAS BEEN COMPROMISED ***
*** WARP CORE BREACH IMMANENT ***
*** PREPARE FOR EMERGENCY WARP CORE JETTISON ***
I've been in a mood the last couple of days; more like a state of confusion. How this differs from any other 'normal' state I have remains to be discovered. None the less, I've just got the anxious feeling again and I'm *REALLY* getting tired of it.
Just finished reading a whole bunch 'o stuff:
SO, why has this got my knickers all in a knot? Well, a week or so ago, I got the latest SOC revision to give a read; seems like reasonable stuff. The other day, someone posts to A.S.S. the following closing comment:
If people will defend the HBIGDA SOC they'll defend *anything*. It's for your own good, dontchaknow...
Got me wondering, am I missing something? So... I ask Laura, what gives? She replies that the SOC is discriminatory against transsexuals. OK. I give it another read, this time with the applicable DSM-IV sections in hand. According to DSM-IV, I really don't have GID, but I kinda do. I also don't have Transvestic Fetishism, but I kinda do. Not that this is bad, but start to get pissed. I feel like I'm all over the damn place. Ah, the absurdity that is life! The more I seek to understand, the further I sink into the quagmire of doubt. My feeling that all this classification crap is just that - crap. I've logged probably thirty plus hours talking with my wife about this since my December meltdown. I *STILL* don't think I have adequately conveyed just what I feels like to be me. And now, I'm supposed to 'fit' into some other category? I defy categorization!
*** WARNING *** WARNING *** WARNING ***
*** WARP PLASMA CONTAINMENT FIELD INTEGRITY AT 50% ***
I can not predict, from one point in time to another, just how the hell I'm going to feel. I walk down the street and feel myself 'shift' from one mental state to another. Each bit of stimuli moves me to yet another unpredictable state. The closest analogy I can come up with is a Lorenz Attractor (Stephanie A. Brooks - help me out explaining this one - I'm sure you can!) It's a fractal function, known as a 'strange' attractor (how apropos!) In most normal functions, y = f(x), a small change in x yields a predictable change in y. With strange attractors, a small change x yields an unpredictable change in y.
*** WARNING *** WARNING *** WARNING ***
*** WARP PLASMA CONTAINMENT FIELD INTEGRITY AT 30% ***
That's how I feel. I vacillate from being comfortable with my self, to wanting to go 'all the way', to all points in between. It's pretty much how I've felt most of my life; a lack of control over where I'll wind up and how I'll get there.
*** WARNING *** WARNING *** WARNING ***
*** WARP PLASMA CONTAINMENT FIELD INTEGRITY AT 20% ***
*** EMERGENCY WARP CORE JETTISON IN T MINUS 20 SECONDS ***
( Scotty! Do Something! )
I email Laura, asking if it's the guidelines which are discriminatory. I get back her document 'Extended Informed Consent'. Again, really well thought out good stuff. I feel my knowledge increase a bit. Read the other docs she was kind enough to forward to me. I found that I seem to be following the 'Stages of life' outlined in her 'Transgender Identity' document all too closely. I know that, in theory, I can jump off at any point - or can I? The more I examine all this, the more at a loss I feel about who/what/where I am. I know better than to ask 'Why?'
*** WARNING *** WARNING *** WARNING ***
*** WARP PLASMA CONTAINMENT FIELD INTEGRITY AT 10% ***
*** EMERGENCY WARP CORE JETTISON IN T MINUS 10 SECONDS ***
There... That's better! I needed to vent a bit, and I have. Nothing resolved, other than getting some more angst out. Thanks for listening!
*** WARP PLASMA CONTAINMENT FIELD HAS BEEN RESTORED ***
*** EMERGENCY WARP CORE JETTISON TERMINATED ***
( Mr. Scott, Good work! )
*** WARP DRIVE IS BACK ON LINE ***
( Lt. Uhuru - see that a transcript of this makes it to my therapist via a scrambled subspace message. )
( Mr. Sulu, get us the hell outta here! )
Love to ya all,
Donna (boldly going where nobody REALLY wants to go!)
One seldom commits only one rash act. In the first rash act one always does too much. For just that reason one usually commits a second - and then one does too little...
Life, for the moment, remains relativly unchanged...
Usenet post - Subject: What is a woman?
Well folks, Donna has been a it again. I've been giving a lot of thought to the whole sex-gender-orientation model. In looking at myself in light of this, I have concluded the following:
My sex is male. I don't deny it and need not question it.
Starts to get fuzzy here. My current read is approximately a 70/20/10 split between female/male/not sure. Values here tend to migrate between categories, but this feel about right as an overall assessment.
Now my head starts hurting. I am married to a woman. I am attracted to women, very attracted. So, what is the problem? Well, it like this. I have struck up a few friendships here. These are people with whom I correspond on a regular basis. I know them only by the names and manners in which they present themselves. For all intents and purposes, they're women. This is how I consider them. While not important in and of it self, its how I consider them.
Now, lest anyone get the wrong idea, I have no secret yearnings for anyone here. It does, however, illustrate a point: If one presents as a woman, and is considered as a woman, what makes one NOT a woman, short of physiological configuration? What I'm getting at is: Should sex be an overriding factor here? Presented with a feminine, passing T* individual, how would I feel? Would I be any less attracted?
There was a time when I would have answered NO without hesitation. Now, I'm not so sure. Does being attracted to the afore mentioned individual make one homosexual? Does it matter? Why do I care? Why do I think anyone else here cares?
I suppose it only matters if I want it to matter. I care only in so far as I've never given something like this any thought until recently. When I dropped all this on the wife two months ago (my gender - she knew about my CDing two years prior to our marriage) one of her comments to me as that dressing up now and then is OK, but going full time would make me a freak; and who would want to be around *that* kind of person. That hit me hard, feeling that, inside at lease, I am one of *those* people.
But it is a good question. Who *would* want to be around a biologic male living as a woman? Well... Me, maybe. Plumbing aside, what makes any transgenderist less of a woman than a cisgendered female? My feeling is there is no difference. Relationships are (or should be) more than copulation. Sex aside, its pretty much an emotional thing. Given that, if one relates as a woman, then they are.
Just some more to think about...
Love and stuff,
Even the bravest of us rarely has the courage for what he really knows.
Here's a sobering moment I had comming home today.
I'm on the train from NYC back to the burbs. No seats, so I stand. As it's pretty warm, off comes the winter coat. My atire for today was pretty run of the mill for me: jeans, off white cotton sweater, and my ankle boots (no heels - I was a work for the day.) All in all, a pretty unremarkable outfit.
As the train pulls in to my stop, I get my coat and bag. I've been carrying a Le SportSac shoulderbag lately with my stuff in it. It's just the manliest of bags, but then, I'm not the manliest of guys. In general, I've gotten no looks (that I've noticed) carrying it around.
I get off the train, and there are two dirtbag types getting off with the rest of us. I walk down stairs, and through the tunned that passes under the tracks. As I start up the stair to the other side, I hear one of them call out "Hey! Faggot!" I was the only one in front of them, so I knew it was directed to me.
I felt sick; really sick. My car was right outside the stairway. I got in and locked the door. I've *never* had that happen... until today. Never before have two words brought forth the mix of emotions I felt then.
Part of me wanted to run off and cry, part was terrified, and part wanted to run them the F**K over; and then do it again just for shits and giggles.
So... Maybe a small sampling of what I have to look forward to should I ever progress further down this road I'm exploring.
Tonight, the closet looks oh so inviting... Perhaps I'll stay...
He who has to do in secret what he does best and most likes to do, with protracted tension, caution, slyness, becomes anaemic; and because he never has harvested anything from his instincts but danger, persecution, disaster, his feelings too turn against these instincts - he feels them to be a fatality. - Nietzsche
Laura left the NGs tonight. She's had enough and wants to persue other projects. I'll miss her, but know that I can always email her. Oh well, yet another rung of support gone...
With that in mind, I've decided to drop out of the NGs; at least for a while. It seems to be getting dicey too often and I won't be part of the cause of that. So, I'll see how things go post NGs. I just need a break from all of the crap there as of late. I've gotten one or two emails asking me to stay, but I need to regroup my thoughts. I'll keep up with any emails, but have unsubscribed A.F.C. and A.S.C. as of this morning. Now it's just me again...
And that, me droogs, brings January 1998 to a close...
Back to December 1997
On to February 1998