I find myself frequently envying Jenny Boylan, author of She’s Not There, her autobiographical account of how she went from James to Jenny. Unlike her, I was not certain I was a girl when I was a child. Even today I don’t think I am a woman; I just think that I’m supposed to be one. Or maybe I just want to be one; I’m not sure. Today was supposed to be my first appointment with my therapist, but the internet is out here, so that will have to wait at least another few days. In the interim I’m left to wonder if there is somehow something wrong with me. As I said, I never thought I was a girl. Far from it; it was pretty obvious I was a boy, based on my limited understanding of anatomy and physiology. I just thought I was weird. As far back as I can remember, I have wondered what it would be like to be a woman. When my friends played superhero games, I didn’t want to be Batman or Superman, I wanted to be Batgirl or Supergirl. When I discovered role-playing games in my adolescence, the idea of playing female characters fascinated me, although fear of being considered odd generally kept me playing characters congruent with my biological gender. It wasn’t until I discovered online role-playing that I felt free enough to try out female characters, and I really enjoyed playing them. More recently, the Second Life simulation allowed me to play a woman as never before, and it felt so right I ended up spending an inordinate amount of time playing, enough that it caused a strain in my marriage. Not as much as the one I will cause when I tell my wife about my being transgendered, however.
Not that this should come completely out of the blue for her. I have told her in the past that I wanted to be a woman; I just also told her that I would never do anything about it. Having changed my mind on that point, I can expect some well-deserved recriminations from my wife I’m not looking forward to that, but I don’t think there is any way around it.
So what changed my mind? How did I go from living a life of quiet desperation in which I accepted that I could never have what I wanted to one in which I am increasingly determined to undergo gender reassignment therapy, to the point I am prepared to risk my marriage, my family, and even my job? I am not certain I can answer that satisfactorily. I do know that, for as long as I can remember, I have been unhappy. I didn’t know why. I assumed that I had a milder version of the depression that has plagued my mother throughout my life. It was just something I lived with, day in and day out, until it became the background noise of my life. When I told one of my best friends that I wanted to be a woman, her first reaction was that the desire must be very hard for me to live with, but the truth is that I had been living with pain for so long I didn’t really remember what it was like to not be unhappy. So living with it didn’t seem hard at all. It wasn’t until I realized that I could live that life, albeit imperfectly, that I suddenly realized how much pain I had been in, because I was no longer in pain and I thought I was going to burst from happiness. That initial burst of joy has faded with time, but the feeling of being happier than I have been in the past remains, as the weight of trying to hide from who I am has vanished.
And that, more than anything else, is what has convinced me that I am making the right decision. This is certainly something you don’t want to rush into, although my personal circumstances guarantee that I can’t in any case. But the feeling of relief and just simple rightness involved with this realization strike me as too strong to ignore. I lived 37 years feeling like there was something wrong with me, something I couldn’t see, but that was there nonetheless, every minute of every day, waiting in the background. Now that’s gone. And I cannot describe how good it feels.
Comments