The Big Move

19Feb09

Well, I’ve been meaning to write the first post of this blog for ages. Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been running through my head what I should put and I’ve written this over and over, although as I’ve been moving, it’s been difficult to find any time to actually sit down and write anything… So this is my blog, and my story. Not sure if anyone will ever read it, but I wanted to write things down anyway – more so to see how far I’ve come!

So…I’m transexual… 

Well, more to the point; I’m me. I guess ‘transexual’ is the term that fits me most, although I don’t feel like a transexual. I feel like a woman. I’ve lived most of my life in a body that wasn’t really my own, although I inhabited it. I looked through its eyes and touched things with its skin. Ok, so it is ‘me’, and for the most part of my childhood, before puberty started, I was pretty happy. I was happy with my ignorance, and happy to play games and make up stories. Happy to spend time by myself, read and draw pictures. It was around that time that I started to play dress up in my mum’s shoes and clothes – not at all thinking there was anything weird or wrong about it. I hasten to add that there is nothing wrong with it, of course, I was a little girl! Although my emotional approach to life has always caused people to, rather helpfully, suggest that I ‘toughen up’. If I was bullied, I’d cry and then try to make friends with them. Suggestions that I ‘just hit them back’ just wasn’t the way I thought, and I couldn’t do it! Reading a book recently, someone else had the same kind of experience and suggested ‘had they seen the girl, they’d not expect her to fight back, and not mind – in fact like – her emotional responses to things, rather than just suggesting she toughen up’.

So, that was me, in secret, all of my life. I spent years and years on my own doing this secretive thing – expressing myself. Not one person on the face of the planet knew the real me. Nobody. My identity wasn’t the person I really am. I still remember how I felt, sitting playing with some of my toys, in a *huge* pair of my mum’s high heels and a scarf. I won’t even get started on the story about Lady Di…. OK, well suffice to say that when people ever ask me where I was when Lady Di lost her life, I remember where I really was; sitting around my bedroom at home in a French Maid’s outfit, just relaxing… Yeah, I know, French Maid! I can only explain it by saying that it was a ‘fancy dress’ outfit, and therefore easier for me to buy than actually going into a clothes shop!! I slept with boys I knew, and although I felt something for them, it was evident that they were just ‘messing around. It is one of those things that I think about a lot though, that these – now men – are completely straight. It was just me with whom they slept, and I never told them about The Real Me(tm). The entire realisation that I was trans-something was really quite slow to come to me I suspect… Denial is a powerful thing! I actually remember being infatuated with a girl at school though; Joanne. I still think about her a lot and danced with her in that way that school-kids do; the way other kids tell you to: “well the girl puts her hands on the boys shoulders and the girl puts her hands on his hips’ sort of thing. The thing I do remember is her dress. I remember it was light blue, and pretty… I didn’t realise at the time why I noticed it, and why I still remember that night to this day.

Fast-forward a little while to university where I had some relationships with guys…mostly just guys that I saw when they were horny. That was ok though, I got some attention and I really wasn’t that into a big relationship anyway. I actually saw one guy who I’d only ever see late on weekend evenings when he’d tap on my window and I’d let him in. I actually giggle at it now – I should have told him to get stuffed. Well, I should have done a lot of things, but actually…it was fun.

Leaving university, I had to move back to my parents house, so chances to express my chosen type of attire was left to stolen moments when they were out. I made one fatal mistake though, leaving some stockings downstairs which my mother handed back to me later saying ‘I think these are a bit too sexy for me’ with a giggle. God knows who she thought owned them though!

Quite quickly, things went very strange. In the rush to get somewhere to live, I moved in with a girl I knew from school. She needed a housemate, and I needed a place. We shared a bedroom as there was only one bed when I moved in, and we were kind of ‘seeing each other’. We didn’t have a sexual relationship, and never really ever did. Was ok though, it was company. The problem was that I’m very passive and always trying to please and she was – to put no finer point on it – aggressive and a bully. I spent the next few years on the receiving end of night of abuse. It was during that time that I came clean about who I *really* was, which really wasn’t good. I promised to ‘never do it again’ and threw out every bit of clothing and makeup I had. It made me feel bitterly sad and desperate, but at that time I wasn’t myself anyway – I’d ended up a reclusive, quiet, introverted, over-weight and unhappy person. We needed somewhere to live, so I bought a house and put it in both of our names. I worked hard fixing it up, and as ‘everyone was doing it’; I asked her to marry me. It was the single biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life. I didn’t even think about it, I just did it because….and here’s the common theme….I was trying to please someone else.

So that lasted for about a year and a half of constant and horrendous abuse. I cried, I pleaded, I reasoned, I argued, I threw things, she promised she’s work on things, and we’d end up in exactly the same place again and again. I’d be called all manner of names, and when she was feeling particularly venomous; would bring up my desire to appear feminine. She’d call me disgusting names and I’d get upset, try to lock myself away and I’d cry. She’d follow and keep going, I’d run away and cry… This went on for a while, until one night I just packed a bag and walked out – never looking back.

I took back my life and made the decision then that I’d never be that position ever again! I’d be myself, and wouldn’t let anyone abuse me. From that point, I started going out as me. I met friends, told my other friends and pretty much everyone just accepted it. I’ve never been that ‘normal’, and I have really great friends, so they were all good. I’m proud of who I am, and proud of where I’ve got to. Even the first time I went out as ‘me’, it just felt natural. As natural as a long breath. As natural as blinking. I’ve never dressed up for sexual pleasure, although of course I have put on a sexy outfit and had sex. Every girl understands how they feel in some really gorgeous, well-fitting lingerie that compliments her figure and make her man speechless! 

I knew I’d found myself, but then I had to get to know this person. Who was I really? I didn’t have sex with anyone, I kept away from relationships and just tried to work it out. I’m happy to say that I have worked it out, although I’m sure I have a lifetime more of getting to know more about myself – I like to keep the spice in a relationship you see.

That person I found is me…and I’m a woman. As I’m writing this, tears are welling up in my eyes. I’m a woman, a girl, female… I’ve finally found out who I am, and it all makes sense! I met someone a while ago who was a friend, and now with whom I share the most profound love I’ve ever experienced. You see, I’m able to give my love as *me* and they know everything about me. I might talk about this a little more in the future too, it’s just the most nourishing and loving relationship I’ve ever had, and typically for me; it’s not the ‘normal’ kind of relationship either.

This week I concluded a couple of months of getting rid of possessions and clearing things out. This ended in my move to London to follow my path in life. It’s a big decision, but one that I need to do. One that fits, and that is natural. This blog therefore is just what I’m thinking about and a way to think out loud. It may even seem that I’ve had some hard things in my life, but I’m no different to anyone, and the things we all have to go through. We all have to deal with identity, death, love, breakdowns of relationships and a million other different things. 

and….I’m happy!

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