i decided in my mid to late 20s that i needed to get a grasp on all that i had gone through in my life. so i sought some help from a therapist. before i did that however… i decided that maybe i should sit and talk with my sister.
the bond i had with my sister was pretty amazing. i don’t know that it was directly related to all of this, or if it was simply brotherly love – but we went through hell and back together. she was there for me through it all, and i was there for her when she needed me most.
she was loving, caring, always full of joy and willing to go to any length to help others. i knew the real her… which was that, and a mix of a tormented soul from our abuse as kids. she had already developed the eating disorder at this time, and had gone through recovery programs
I invited her over one night to sit and have a drink and talk. we talked about all sorts of things going on with her school, her job, a boy she had kinda started dating, and lots more. i had to work up the courage to tell her… it took every ounce of it that i had, and i made her swear to never repeat it. i took a deep breath, and just kind of blurted it out “my brain, my heart, my insides do not match my outsides. im not really a man”
*as she was taking a sip of wine, in a very nonchalant manner* “yeah, i know”
what??? how could you know???
“you spent more time playing strawberry shortcake with me than playing football in the street with the neighbors. we used to play dress up all the time, remember?”
i…. was dumbfounded. i mean – i guess… but i didnt think those dots would connect – it seemed like a stretch. “but, most big brothers do that for their little sisters”
“nah. they don’t. and it wasnt just that – you are different. you remember how you used to dance with me? or like every day when i wanted you to have a tea party with me… and you hated being the prince, but i begged you and begged you and you did it for me anyway? you arent a typical guy. when you are actually being you – and people are paying attention… the way you talk, the way you think, how you process emotions – i dont really know how to place you, but you dont fit with the straight or gay guys, and even though you look like one you dont fit with the manly guys… it was just a natural conclusion to make. you are beautiful and unique. i didnt know, but if you asked me to guess, i probably would have guessed something like that. so, what is it precisely? are you transgendered? are you wanting to transition?”
i just sat there a bit stunned. i didnt know what to say. i was trying not to cry. i told her i was… and i explained my childhood… what mom had done, what i went through – which most of she knew, but not all. she, like me, had the ‘a-ha’ moment of all the puzzle pieces fitting together. i told her i simply cant transition…. i could never be externally who i am inside, and would just have to find ways to be happy.
my sister kind of paused and leaned forward so i could see the sincerity in her eyes – “i love you for telling me. i always knew you would someday. and don’t worry, i have not nor will i ever tell anyone. that is for you to tell if you ever feel that you need to. its not my story to share – you come out if and when you are ready. i know it wasnt easy to say that out loud.”
i loved my sister. she and i shared a connection that i have never had before. it was like we were the same and knew each others thoughts before we said them out loud. she shared things with me that she wouldnt share with her lifelong best friend, and vice-versa.
she passed away shortly after that from heart issues related to her eating disorder. we both knew it would be a problem one day… she just didnt think it would be so soon. when she passed away… a piece of me died with her.
i took some time after she passed away before i actively went out and searched for a therapist. eventually, i found one and had a quick consultation. she was in her early 40s or so, well spoken, articulate, and had a basic understanding of what i was going through. so we set up a long first visit for a few weeks later.
that first session was… tough. it took a lot to get through it. in the beginning, she was very professional… lots of “mhmm… ok… ” followed by a few follow up questions to better help her understand. by 30 minutes in… she was visibly shaken… her hand would cover her mouth occasionally and i could hear her mumble “jesus christ” as i was telling her the ins and outs of what i had gone through as a child.
to date – she represents one of only two times i have ever ventured outside of the house in “non boy clothes”. after several dozen sessions over a year or two, she had the goal of getting me more comfortable with it. i think her goal was really to get me more comfortable so i could deal with it from a place of comfort… not of anxiety, shame, etc. attempting to “normalize it” as much as she could. she told me to wear something underneath my regular clothes and jeans to my next session. it seemed like a really odd request… and almost too forward or personal, like she was invading my space with that request… but i went along.
i spent upwards of a day trying to figure out what to wear and consumed with making sure it would not show or be detectable. i was insanely paranoid and nervous about it. i finally settled on the most bland and boring pair of panties i owned, and some nude thigh highs because i couldnt find pantyhose that werent high waisted and could possibly be seen if my shirt came up a bit. that way in case my leg showed, it would be hard to detect. that was an interesting experiment… but in the end, i was so paranoid about getting outed, that it was hard to focus on anything else.
one of her better suggestions in dealing with it all, was suggesting that i might write a book. now… im not a writer. i dont pretend to be one. but the idea captivated me a bit… write it all down… process as i go. i had been writing this for years, and i informed her of it…. and brought her a printed out copy to read.
that is a little bit of what this is i suppose. i have started and stopped this book at least a dozen times over the years. but recently (which i will get into later) it has come back to the surface… and i thought rather than trying to write a traditional book which i never seemed to get very far with, and every time i did, seemed very disjointed (just how my brain works) – maybe this blog would suffice.
there is also another reason this exists. a few years ago… i met a woman i really fell in love with. we’ve been happily married for almost 15 years…. but i have not told her. she knows how we were abused as kids… she heard it from me and my brother and dad… but she doesnt know the underlying reasons that spurned it. i have wanted to tell her…. every fiber of my being wants to share, and i have wanted to since the very first day – but i kept it to myself for fear that she would see me as so many others have before… as a monster. an abomination. something disgusting.
i dont know if i will share this blog with her. i would rather talk to her… but that conversation has played out a million times in my head – literally every night as i go to sleep – and i cannot find a way to start it. there is too much information that you need to know all at once before jumping into having an opinion on it… and while i am sure she would hear everything i had to say – i know that if i did it the wrong way or order, it would cause her hours of torment until i got the parts that made it a little less disgusting. i just cant figure out the order. do i tell her who i am first? do i tell her about my childhood first?
having not told her this after 5 years seems like it is a betrayal of her trust… and i cannot undo that betrayal as the damage is already done. i only hope she can truly understand the position i am in. i cant roll back time to tell her 5 years ago (but then again, i had planned to try and let it die 5 years ago so i wouldnt have to tell anyone) – but that is 100% my fault. still, i owe it to her to break the news as gently as possible in hopes she can understand why i didnt share any of this and just hope she is open and understanding, and that this doesnt completely change her perception of me.
there was one point near the beginning of our relationship that i came within a breath of telling her. i had planned to as it was obvious i was in love with her, and in trying to find the right time to do that, we had an experience that made me halt. she was wearing lingerie, and used her stocking on me which was amazing…. but she made a comment afterwards in small talk about how she had a friend whos husband was apparently a crossdresser, and could i believe how terrible that was… how much of a betrayal that was to her. that comment at the time made me stop quickly. i remember driving home after that weekend, and throwing out everything i had. i was mortified that she was hinting to me, as it was too close to my life.
if it is something she cannot hear, or wants to know about… i am willing to continue as i have been and just keep suppressing it. she is worth it. but, i hope that we can hit a reset button or something and just forget it so we never have to discuss it again and can just continue our lives – i will have gotten it off my chest, and that would have to be enough if that is her choice. and then of course… i have to hope and pray she doesnt hear it all, and be instantly disgusted by the “man” she thought she married, not really fully being a man. i just cant nail it down… my brain constantly flops in predicting how that may go.
the thought of her being ‘on board’ with this is so infinitely small that i honestly do not see it as a possibility. i can hope… but i am not putting a lot of time into hoping for that outcome. she has made a couple of disparaging remarks that come close enough to it for me, that i lean more towards this being a negative outcome.
i cannot lose her. without her, my life is meaningless. she is my everything. but i have to find a way because this is eating me alive. i cant keep suffocating this part of my life as its killing all of me, not just that portion. and there have been too many instances that i feel she might already be getting close.