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the disease model

Transgender as “disease model” has kept me captive for most of my adult life. The thought that something was deeply wrong with me permeated my existence and kept me from living a truly honest life. By necessity my life was a sham because I could not access any feelings I had that contravened the politically correct model of what I was supposed to be. As a result, I never learnt how to live without self imposed constraints borne out of Catholic guilt and societal pressure; it was like a form of psychological constipation that kept me from going where the mind sometimes wanted to go. A part of my natural self expression was smothered for the sake of fitting in and fulfilling expectation. From day one I learnt that I was flawed and needed to change or at least keep that part of myself that was not acceptable deep in the closet. I am not angry at my parents and blame no one for this as all were doing the best they could.

The problem with suppression is that it’s always only partly successful and eventually the soda bottle explodes (typically by the time you reach your mid-forties). The pressure can no longer continue to build lest you rupture an artery (which incidentally is what happened to me and quite literally). I had what is called a carotid artery dissection which in layman terms is a tear in the internal wall of the artery. The flow is diminished as the blood flow slows down and (in my case) a piece of clot went into my brain causing a stroke. Although the experts told me that this can happen to anyone at anytime, I choose to correlate it with my own life experience of suppression and an unhappy marriage (which I don’t blame her for as I married out of my own sense of life expectation).

So now with a renewed sense of self acceptance (although of what I am not exactly sure) I have attained an uneasy truce between the reality of my daily life, the life choices I have made in the past and the apparent desire for something that may really be a myth in disguise. However, knowing that Joanna is too far advanced now to suppress her demands, I won’t go backwards at this stage of my life; I understand only too well the consequences. So this feminine side of my nature will not stay hidden any longer (not even from my children who are aware) and I will forsake a relationship with a woman if need be just to be true to myself.

I will also try and cut myself some slack and stop analysing what I am and what I am not. For I have never felt so much relief in my entire life as I do now. That proverbial piano on the shoulders was a heavy burden to carry all those years and it was only in letting it drop that I was able to feel the immense relief.

Comments

  1. http://tgchatroom.com/wiki/index.php/So_You_Want_To_Be_a_T-Girl_(Chapter_1)

    Read this. Do NOT skim it or dismiss it.

    Then...Read Chapters 2 and 3.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks for the link quiet voice. I have read chapter 1 slowly and deliberately. I was already painfully aware of all the horrible pitfalls of transition. I desperately don't want to go there which is why I struggle. I am not a fetish transvestite and once again in this document I find facile cartoons about what CDs and TVs. If I use this chapter as a barometer for myself then I am more transsexual than anything else. Not something I care to hear. Thank you for trying to help but I desperately do NOT want to be a T Girl!!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Bell or no bell I will resist transition with all my might. If that means calling myself a transvestite then so be it.....

    ReplyDelete
  4. Hmmm....Now there is an interesting concept. I will be interested in your thinking after you have read Chapters 2 and 3.





    ReplyDelete

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No, I don't mind

When Halle and I last got together the woman serving us said:

"I can't wait to get home and take off my bra you know what I mean ladies?"

Arguably the statement wasn't the most elegant thing to say to perfect strangers but it made me reflect.

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There are days when the combination of the feel of my bra and forms, the pull of my dangly earrings and the feel of my feet in heels is a powerful combination which feeds my soul. I used to think this was me fooling myself until I finally admitted that my identity is being affirmed through these accoutrements. They are like badges that allow me to be addressed and treated in the manner I want; like a woman.

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