My Transgender Live

How I Feel

I’ve known that I was transgender since age four. I wore the shoes of a girl down the street a lot, and once around age five I found a thigh high stocking in the trash in my parents room and couldn’t resist trying it on. Of course I liked it!

At age eight I started getting into my mom’s pantyhose (the ones in the plastic egg [Leggs]), wearing her shoes, and wearing some dresses. I’ve been addicted to wearing pantyhose to this day. I just love how they feel on my skin. It all felt so natural and normal. I was scared of being caught, or seen by anyone.

It was around this time that I started asking friends if I could try on their sister’s shoes. Some said yes, and others no. I had one friend who had an older sister who wore bell bottom jeans and platform sandals. I always tried to get him to bring me a pair of her jeans and platform shoes. One time I spent the night and he finally did it. Late that night he painted my toenails red, and I put on the bell bottom jeans and platform sandals. Then we sneaked out and walked a way down the street. It was another wonderful moment of freedom and feeling feminine.

Around the time I started Jr. High School, I started going to the store (like Walmart) to buy pantyhose. I was so embarrassed to take them to the checkout, but I had to do it if I wanted my own pantyhose.

When I was sixteen I started stealing girl’s clothing, shoes, makeup, jewelry, pantyhose, etc. from garages, houses and cars. I had such a strong need to dress in women’s clothes, and wasn’t getting much of an allowance, that I found I had no other means. I went on stealing women’s clothes, shoes, etc. until I was forty-seven and got caught. I hated doing it, but by my twenties it had become such a normal thing, and I got really good at not getting caught, that it eventually became an addiction and I’d obsess over stealing. I could stop obsessing until I went through with it.

Before getting caught in Aug. 2010, I asked God to please help me to stop stealing because I couldn’t stop on my own. I haven’t stolen anything since, but it’s kept me from getting a job since then. And it was a misdemeanor for theft under $100. I got two years’ probation and a fine.

I’ve been wanting (needing) to start hormone replacement therapy for the past thirty or more years. Because of my Bipolar Disorder I have never been able to maintain employment for more than three to six months, unless of course it was a job I really enjoyed doing. The longest job lasted just under two years. Now I’ve been unemployed since April of 2010 (became full-time student from 2009 to 2013) and I searched for two years. I had a few offers, but once they did a background check, the offers where rescinded. So I've never been able to afford much of anything besides rent, utilities, etc. to live on.Now I’m fifty-one (fifty-two as of Feb. 24, 2015) and I still have no means to afford HRT. No insurance, no nothing. I’ve made many suicide attempts since 1988.

I don’t know if anyone reading this has ever lost hope, but it is the most miserable, deep seated feeling that anyone can feel. I’m on three different anti-depressants, and I still have suicidal thoughts nearly every day. I’ve got to the point where I’ve lost all hope, quit taking care of myself, and sit on the couch all day on this laptop. My back always hurts; I’m around 220 lbs. which is about the most I’ve ever weighed. I can’t see my toes because my fat stomach sticks out too far (Dunlop disease).

There has been many times where I thought I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Every time it turns out to be a train passing by, leaving me in the dust and no longer seeing anything in the tunnel again. So, why is it so easy for me to lose all hope? Because time after time over the past thirty years the same shit keeps happening over and over and over. I’d say I was stuck in insanity doing the same thing over and over, but I always try different things. To this day nothing has worked and I’ve given up on ever getting on HRT, or become more feminine which I’ve deeply needed from my soul all of these decades.

Last year I had handgun to my head. I was so frickin serious about wanting to die and be out of the misery that is my life. For some goddamn reason I can never go through with it, or in the case in 1988 on my first suicide attempt, I swallowed a full bottle of Phenobarbital, and never would have woke up if my girlfriend and her dad didn’t show up. I just spend the day in the ER drinking nasty ass charcoal all day.

Every day I feel lowness, emptiness, sadness, feeling worthless, and like there is a huge hole in the middle of me, or a pit in my soul. I can’t even look at my reflection in the mirror. I see an ugly fat old slob who is the farthest from looking even a tiny bit feminine. Even wearing makeup and nicely dressed. It pisses me off that someone or something has stopped me from successfully killing myself in order to end the pain and misery that has become my life. Why would anyone allow me to live with this for so many fricken years, not allowing me to end it, and not giving me the means to start HRT? WHY??? (I guess it’s God’s will for me to spend the rest of my life suffering. Well, screw that! I’ve had enough of feeling like this.

Either give me the means to begin (and stay on) Hormone Replacement Therapy, or let me successfully kill myself, goddamn it!!!! That’s all I ask. Period. PLEASE! Help me to not feel like this anymore. I can’t take it anymore, and you’re not supposed to give us more that we can handle. And I’ve heard that in church, 12 step meetings, and out and about. So please God, just end the pain and emptiness by allowing me to die, or help me to get the means to afford HRT.

Sorry if it is not appropriate, or sounds like I'm rambling and/or repeating myself. Everything written here comes from how I was feeling at the time I wrote it. That and I've never done a blog before.

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