Out of the Closet

Today was an amazing day. I came out publicly both on my social media as well as to my coworkers. So far, my revelation has been met with nothing but positivity and support. Some of my colleagues have asked a few not to invasive questions regarding how my life and presentation at work will change. I explained that I am working at figuring out my pace and will let them know well before I start to really set into my transition. For now, they are welcome to continue to use my male name as well as current pronouns. Everyone was respectful in their questions to me and the most common response that I have received has been regarding my bravery. I personally don't see myself as brave, but I understand and respect the reasoning for the label. I know that odds are that eventually, my luck will run out and somebody will not give me such a warm acceptance, I even suspect who these people will be. But for now, I just cannot believe how lucky I am that everyone in my life has been so amazing. I have the most wonderful wife in the world and I have the greatest friends. I also have been quite fortunate in finding websites such as Transgender Universe as well as the members of a local support group, without whom, I don't think I would have come so far out of the proverbial closet as I have today. Thank you, I love you all.

A Timeline of Self Discovery

I'm about 7 years old, riding the subway with my grandmother on our way to the Natural History Museum when I notice them for the first time and it makes no sense to my adolescent mind. Skin doesn't look like that, so soft and silky, but it's also definitely not pants, which are so hard and rough looking. What kind of magical fabric is that? And why have I never seen them before… why have I never worn them before? I can't help but staring at this woman's legs, crossed smoothly next to me. I have to... no; I NEED to know what that feels like.

I'm 10 years old, my best friend and I are playing what we have come to refer to strictly as "the game." We pretend that we're older, and we're boyfriend and girlfriend. We sit on the couch in my basement watching movies, his arm stretched out around my shoulders. Sometimes we sit in front of my father's workbench and pretend that we are meeting for the first time at some dive bar and he's picking me up. There's never any type of physical interaction… we're far too young to even consider such a thing, or to even realize how abnormal the game is. We never speak of the game to our other friends or our parents. Once we grow out of the game, we never discuss it again… for all I know he never even thinks of it again… but I think about it almost every day for the rest of my life.

I'm 12 years old; my parents have let me stay home alone for the first time. I only have about 20 minutes at most until they are back from the store. I know that I need to pass this test, show that I can be trusted by myself, that I won't do something ridiculous. But this idea slowly builds in my mind and I realize that now is my chance to finally answer a question that has lingered for something like five years. I run up the stairs and into their room. I pull open the dresser drawer with caution and find my treasure. I quickly run to the window and make sure there are still no cars in the driveway as I pull my socks off and get ready to finally feel that magical feeling I have been dreaming of.

I'm 16 years old; I don't remember the last time that I was home alone and stayed dressed in my boy clothes. I have a drawer in my room with a couple pairs of pantyhose that I stole from the Waldbaums near my house and a bra that I stole from my mom's underwear drawer. I put them on then pick something from mom's closet. I then hang out, usually staying in my parent's room so that I can see out the window if somebody comes home early. These are some of the best times of my teenage years.

I'm 19 years old; I'm just getting home from the Post Office where I just opened my first PO Box. I am a ball of energy and excitement as I head to my computer so I can order clothes for the first time. I quickly max out my credit card with purchases from every website that I can find whose clothes might fit me. I hope these things fit because I don't know a single thing about sizes.

I'm 20 years old and having a panic attack. After 20 minutes of staring at my computer, I had just hit send on an email to my mother, telling her that I think I may be transgender. I hear the familiar "you've got mail," in the distance and I know that the email has been received. There's no turning back now. Mom will eventually tell me that she will love me no matter what I do, no matter who I am.

I'm 21 years old, I've gone to a few meetings of a support group in Bay Shore, but I feel extremely uncomfortable. I think I was the only person there under the age of 50. I've been reading everything I can find about dysphoria and transgenderism. There aren't a whole lot of resources, but what I can find, I don't identify with any story that I've read. All of these people talk about how they hate every single bit of their bodies, that they despise their genitalia, that sex isn't enjoyable to them. I start to consider that maybe I'm not Trans after all. I no longer dress up every time I'm home alone and I no longer love all of the clothes that I have collected.

I'm 23 years old; I haven't dressed in almost 2 years. I do miss it from time to time, but I don't need it. I've gotten rid of most of my clothes, but still have a few little things, mostly pantyhose that I only occasionally touch.

I'm 26 years old and I've all but forgotten about the time I used to spend alone dressed up. The memory is so distant; it could have all been a dream. My parents don't ever ask me about it, the two friends who I had told are no longer in my life. Something feels like its missing deep down inside of me, but I don't ever think about it.

I'm 33 years old, and I start a job where I will have to wear a suit and tie to work every single day and sometimes, I kind of enjoy it. Nevertheless, something is definitely missing in my life. I try to ignore it because what could I possibly need? I'm happily married, this new job seems like it's going to be a great change for me. The only thing that could be better would be if we weren't forced to move back in to my parent's basement. 

Drowning

There's somebody else living in my body. It feels like they're drowning… Pain overcomes me as my brain begins to scream. Next my throat closes up as I gasp for breath, but fire, not air fills my lungs. I fold forward as my stomach cramps up, the way you feel when you haven't gone to the bathroom in a week. My muscles give out and I collapse to the floor. I need to breathe I need to fight this pain, but I'm not sure who truly owns this vessel, the alien presence who feels right at home, or the natural being that never felt like they belonged.

I feel it taking over, consuming me from the inside out. The sensation is terrifying, yet I don't fear it. Rather I enjoy the sensation, like every nerve in my body is awake and jolting with pleasure. I feel alive. For the first time in my life, I feel like the person I have always wanted to be, like the person my body would never quite let me be. 

I wonder if this is how a caterpillar feels, as it weaves the cocoon around its body on its journey to become a butterfly. I've always wondered if the caterpillar knows when it's born and growing through its first life cycle. Do they know that this is not the form they are meant to stay in, that they are destined to become something so different, so beautiful? Or do they just begin their metamorphosis in confusion, unsure of what is happening.

Who am I?

So my brain is all sorts of fucked up right now. Just when I thought I was past this issue, it gets brought back up in a way that is eating away at my brain in ways I can barely explain. 

In June I came to the conclusion that I considered myself gender neutral. That as much as I enjoy the feminine side (which I sadly barely ever get to tap into) I still had masculine traits and attire that I was fine with keeping. I told Kerri this with delight, as I knew this would alleviate a lot of her concerns about our future and was shocked when she didn't immediately respond with positivity. Instead, she told me that she didn't believe me. She said she wasn't sure if I was lying to her (to force her to stop worrying about the possible future) or if I was lying to myself (forcing myself to accept it.)

Over the next 2 months or so, it became an occasional debate but it had seemed as if Kerri finally believed me and we were moving on. She started becoming much more positive and accepting and things were great.

And then today happened....

I was hanging out with a new friend of ours from the transgender community and we were discussing some of the recent events in our lives. I started telling him about how much more supportive Kerri has been and how much it means to me. Since we're still fairly new friends, I wanted to give him some back story and explained how Kerri had previously not fully believed that I considered myself neutral. 

He then told me that he agrees with her. This absolutely floored me. Here is a guy who I've known for just under 2 months, who I've only really spend extended time with outside of our support group meetings twice, and he gets the feeling from me that deep down, I don't really consider myself gender neutral. He apologized and told me that he doesn't mean to force a gender idea on me. But as a friend, he gets the feeling that there's more that I am continuing to bury.

I don't know why this has affected me so much more then when Kerri has told me something so similar. Kerri knows me better than anybody, so obviously her insight should mean more. She should see deeper into me and know more about who I am. Therefore if she feels I'm not accepting parts of myself, I should take that more to heart. And if I truly don't believe that is true, it can simply be washed away. 

However, here's somebody who has faced his own internal struggle about identity. Somebody who was born in the wrong body and fought himself his whole life to understand and accept who is was truly meant to be. That own self insight could also give him the knowledge and ability to see that same battle inside somebody else. And through that, know the signs of non-self-acceptance. 

And that's where I'm stuck... And that's why I'm lying in bed at 2:30 am, wide awake, fighting tears and trying not to wake Kerri up. Trying to wrap my brain around this problem that I thought I solved three months ago. 

Could I be lying to myself...? Again? Still? 

Who the fuck am I already?

My Last Few Months

For the last few months, I have been on an emotional roller coaster that I never imagined I would ride. When I was young, I tossed the idea that I was transgender out the window, it was just a silly phase, it was more of a sexual fetish, and wasn't anything that truly mattered to me. These were the lies that I forced myself to believe in order to escape this part of me that made me different. I grew a beard, I hooked up with girls that I met online and had no desire to actually have a relationship. I tried to be a little bit of everything I hated most in all those "players," who just used people for sex.  I hated myself and nothing I could do would make me feel truly whole. But when I finally gave up the fight, and allowed myself to accept that there really was something different about me, something that needed to be released, I finally felt free… I finally felt happy.

In December, when I finally let myself accept this side of me again, I was convinced that it was more of a crossdresser type thing. It wasn't going to be a major part of my identity, just a small side that I needed to enjoy. I could easily do that without anybody else ever knowing about it. A few weeks passed and I knew that I would not be satisfied keeping this all to myself, but I still insisted that it was not going to become a major part of my identity. I started seeing a therapist to address not only this side of me, but my issues with anxiety and mild depression. My therapist helped me reach deeper inside and I once again, I was forced to accept that I had drastically underestimated how much of this was my true self.

In February, I had come out to my wife, my parents, and a few of my closest friends. In May, I came out to my assistant manager and a larger group of friends. Then in August, I came out to the rest of my both my own family as well as my wife's family. So far, not a single person has given a negative response, and I don’t think I could possibly be luckier.

As I said in a previous post, I have come to the decision that I fit a more neutral gender lifestyle. I love the feeling of nylons on my legs, I enjoy having a flowy dress on, and while I can't walk in heels yet, I am eager to develop a sophisticated style that I see on so many gorgeous women all over the place.  However, I don't hate my primary attire. I work in a bank, and sometimes I like putting on my suit and tie in the morning. I like wearing jeans and a heavy metal band t-shirt on the weekends. I do daydream on occasion on wearing a women's attire to work, and while my coworker's joke about how gorgeous they find our assistant manager to be and how jealous they are of her significant other, I wish I had her body size and could wear her suits everyday instead.

Sometimes I do think that a day may come where I pull further away from the male status, where I might want to live more than 5% of the time on the femme side. I really can't imagine having any type of surgery to remove my male anatomy, so I am confident that gender neutral will forever be my gender status. If that changes at some time in the future, then I will address that matter at the time. But for the time being, I will remain… I am Craig… I am Crystal… I am ME.

Long time no update...

It's been a while and thanks to some amazing new friends, I'm hoping to start writing again. Here's an article I wrote this weekend about my journey thus far.

It was the middle of the day and I was sitting at my desk at work when it finally happened. Business was slow and I was browsing the internet, killing some time until either a customer came in or my boss realized that I was slacking off. I had recently discovered this website that my job subscribes too, called Perks at Work, it's filled with hundreds of links to websites where we get discounts just for working for the company. I purchased a package of 4 movie tickets for $25, eager to use it for our traditional Jewish Christmas at the movies. After completing my first purchase, I made my way to the link for apparel discounts. Many of the websites were places that at 300lbs and over 6' tall, I either a) didn't meet my taste in clothes or b) didn't meet my size requirements (there's no shopping at the Gap or Old Navy for me.)
I scrolled a little more, and without even realizing what I was doing, I suddenly found myself on a website and looking at clothes that I not only absolutely loved, but might even fit me. But before my excitement could truly kick in, reality took over as I realized that none of the dresses from Torrid would look good with my massive amounts of chest hair and the beard I had been sporting for the last few months. I felt heartbroken; it wasn't fair that I couldn't wear something so beautiful. I felt no shame over wanting those dresses, those shoes, the pantyhose. But what would my wife say if she opened our closet door and saw that hanging up next to the suits that I wear to work every day?

A few days later, I was at the post office setting up my PO Box, because while I could hide clothes in a duffel bag or something, there would be no way to explain the mysterious packages from Torrid and Lane Bryant. A week later, the trunk of my car was filled with boxes that I had yet to figure out how to smuggle into the house.  In addition, I found a web forum dedicated to support for Crossdressers, then a forum dedicated to Transgender support.  I spent my downtime at work alternating between creating wish lists on all of these clothing sites and reading the stories by transwoman across the globe. I scrolled through pictures posted in the forums of their before and after and wanted to cry out in jealousy… Why couldn't I dress like that? As my duffle bag filled up, the question became "Why couldn't I look that good?"  Memories of my childhood filled my brain of all the times that my mother told me that "Life isn't fair." But this was beyond not fair, this was torture. I assumed this is what somebody would feel like if they were drowning to death and all they could see was everyone else sitting comfortable on their pool floats.

Weeks went by and these feelings of jealousy grew stronger by the day. I wasn't sure if my wife could sense the change in me, but my sadness had halted my sex drive, and she sure as hell noticed that. I did some research and found a therapist who I felt might be a good fit and made my first appointment. Even then, I felt fear in telling my wife. How would she feel if I told her that I needed to see a therapist? I had 2 weeks until my first appointment, plenty of time to figure out how to tell her, which I finally did the day before the appointment. I explained that I had minor feelings of anxiety growing, primarily due to a new program at work requiring me to start cold calling customers, and I despised making phone calls.

My first few weeks in therapy were amazing, I was expressing feelings that I wasn't sure I could ever express to my wife, my parents, or my friends. But of course, the secret ate away at me. I bought some books for my kindle about transgenderism, about coming out, even about supporting a loved one who came out. I figured those last 2 especially would help me find the best way to open up and express this all, not to mention give me some insight on what to expect (although part of me was expecting divorce in my future.) I found every reason to not tell her… I can't tell her right before her birthday became I can't tell her right before the holidays. Once New Years passed, I couldn’t tell her so close (6 weeks) from Valentine's Day, then once February 15th came, I was fresh out of excuses…  I can't tell her before Presidents Day didn't seem a reasonable excuse to continue procrastinating.

Knowing how much better I am with written words, I had written a long letter to her and kept it saved in my email, waiting for weeks until that fateful day when I would finally have the nerve to let her read it. That day came, as predicted, three days after Valentine's Day. We sat in bed, playing video games when I hit pause… The fate of Ezio Auditore and the Assassin's Creed were not quite as important as the fate of our lives. I told her that therapy had been helping a lot, and that I was finally ready to share my deepest issues with her. I told her how much I loved her and that I never wanted to live without her, but there was a lot that she needed to know. And then I told her that I thought it would be easier if she read my feelings, because it might help if she could read it all and take the time to process. My biggest fear being that if I told her aloud, she would interrupt me, she would flip out, accuse me of betraying her, and not want to accept what I was trying to say. She took her time and read the email carefully. I could see the shock and confusion in her face. We then started our discussion aloud, and she while I could see the pain and confusion in her eyes, she assured me that she would love me no matter what and accept whatever I needed to do.

Over the next few months, we struggled a lot. There were more tears then can be counted, she joined those same web forums that I had joined and found some peace in reading the stories of other significant others. She came with me a couple of times to therapy and tried to let herself out of her comfort zone. After 7 months of therapy and soul searching, I decided that, at least for now, the category of Gender Neutral fit me best. I love the idea of being a woman, and I think there is a good part of me that would love to live that way permanently, however, there is a big part of me that enjoys putting on a suit and tie in the morning, and at the core of it all, I don't totally despise my genitals, I enjoy having sex with my wife, I desperately want to have children of our own (even though 2 years of unprotected sex has so far failed to grant us that dream.)

Ultimately, as far as my current feelings on life go, I just can't imagine going under the knife. I don't feel the need to remove any permanent parts of my body. I strongly wish to do something about the ridiculous amounts of hair and have done some research on laser hair removal, something that I need to look more into and start saving for. My wife however, loves my hairiness. She enjoys running her hand through the jungle that lives on my chest, and even seven months later, she still gives me the sad puppy dog eyes every time that I am preparing to shave the stubble from my cheeks. I know in time she will get more comfortable with my lack of body hair and that she will still love every smooth inch of me. I have never and will never doubt our emotional love and our attraction for each other. We love each other, unconditionally. And in the end, that's all that truly matters.