If you’ve been reading all the posts in order until now (and I strongly suggest you do), you may have noticed that I say nothing of my gender issues. This omission was voluntary on my part, as I wanted all of these details on a single page rather than spread across a few walls of text.
Now the thing is, my story is somewhat different than what you could qualify as “standard” in the world of male-to-female transgender, and this is explained by my past. One thing that I didn’t relate in my posts until now was how I actually coped with the life I had, my defence mechanism.
As a child, because of my violent and oppressive step father, I simply closed up and kept to myself. I remember little of my thoughts from my childhood but I do gather from discussions with family members that I just played in my corner and read, which seems just like me. But it was in my teenage years that I had to take it a step further, right after the sexual assaults happened – I escaped into imaginary worlds that I would build for myself. And oh, the worlds that took shape in my head, they were wonderful. And with time, they became so much more than just ideas. Today, I actually know that eventually I will be writing stories from within those universes, and they will blow your mind away. But for the time being, I am content in knowing that those times spent looking out from the emptiness of my own life and into these worlds were not at a loss.
But with these awesome ideas also came a darker side-effect, one that has continued to affect me to this day. Along came the spider, and along came fantasies, waking dreams that started off innocently enough, but eventually permeated my mind. At first, it was about transformation, escape from the dull reality, and into a place where I had full control and no barriers. I’d simply transform into whatever I wanted and go wherever my desires took me. But then, most likely from a combination of the sexual assaults and my own puberty continuing its course, the fantasies became more and more sexual. I’d imagine myself not just as something else, but often having intercourse as that body. And, only in rare cases was I of the male gender in those fantasies.
But as the time continued, as I grew older, there was a separation of the morphing sexual fantasies and the other, more normal, imagined worlds. A separation between my personal world where I was present and I could do what I wanted; and the worlds I built “for others”, where I was rarely present and where mostly logical, well defined, based on reality (with added sci-fi “what if” elements of my making). I didn’t think of genders in those worlds, they were just worlds where stuff happened and a universe ripe for storytelling was presented.
I also had private universes in which I had full control, I was the only one that mattered, I could do whatever I wanted. It wasn’t sexual, it was emotional; I was given ultimate power to create or destroy, power over life and death, I could appear to the evil beings in this world and cleanse them, or to the whole world as a saviour. I was a god, a reaper, a being of ultimate everything.
And finally, there was the permeating desire to be a woman. Those fantasies weren’t in any universes. They were me, they were in the present, and there was a hundred, a thousand or more scenarios that my mind came up with that each followed a certain basic script: I was given power, by someone or something more powerful than me, to become a woman. Sometimes it was permanent, sometimes temporary, sometimes I could switch and other times it was one-way or one-time only. The higher power had magic, god powers, technology, science, whatever it took to get me where I desperately wanted to go. Each time I was given the possibility in my dreams, I screamed “Finally!” and took it, letting it take me over and transform me. I had instances where it was painful, others where it was peaceful, some quick and some slow, some where I even took control over another woman’s bodies as a spectator or as the “driver”. I even imagined myself coming back from the future as a woman to give myself the power in the past, and, erm, having my way with myself before doing so.
So in effect the possibilities that my mind came up with were and still are endless, that much is certain. But, as I mentioned earlier, this had a somewhat darker, deeper effect. In recent years, the desires escalated, the fantasy became an obsession, and was even preventing me from functioning to my potential. I would have to literally stop working to go in the bathroom and relieve myself of the sexual tension in order to get some productivity going. Even though I love and desire my wife, I would masturbate almost every single day but only make love to her once a month. But it wasn’t for lack of desire – it was because my fantasies were taking control.
On top of this, with the birth of my daughter, I started to see something evil creep up from behind: the danger that I would somehow hurt my daughter emotionally or even, god forbid, physically, because it was simply too much jealousy and envy for my mind to endure. If I didn’t find an escape, I would have had to leave them to resolve these issues on my own; I couldn’t bear hurt them or lose them. But all of this negative part of me… today, it’s gone. Well, perhaps not gone, but dormant to the point where my life is no longer affected by it. A faithful discussion took place somewhere at the end of July that changed everything.
My wife and I were having a really amazing and intense discussion about one of my universes – the only one where I would have loved to be included, one that I saw (and still see) as a possible future for mankind. The basic idea is to start off with a matrix-like virtual reality (plug into the machine and hijack all the senses), but to the contrary of the movie itself, one would have the possibility of changing their appearance and of course sensations. Financing would start by the military (training troops without putting them in danger) as well as the obvious uses in the pornography industry (experiencing rather than seeing? How many people would pay for this?). Vicey would question the methods, the goals, the reactions of people to it, and even some logistics of sharing and experiencing the sensations of other people. And then, she asked me one question that, at the moment, took me aback:
“Babe, what if you had the possibility to get a surgical operation to turn only your genitals into a woman’s, and leave the rest alone, would you do it?” Keep in mind, she knew about my sexual fantasies and desires but not about the darker side of them. My answer to her was “Nope, actually I wouldn’t”.
But that question… it became something else. Within the crap that I had lived in my childhood, behind the wall of protection that I had built to protect myself from remembering so much pain… was something entirely different. From the back of my mind, wielding this question that became a hammer, came a scream that I could no longer ignore and push aside… “I AM A WOMAN!”
I started looking online for transgender support forums, information about transition, hormones, surgery, everything from the expected growth of breasts on estrogen to the different techniques used in creating a vagina for a man. I became familiar with the terminology, the people, the possible downfalls and pitfalls that I would have to go through… But none of these barriers seemed to be so tall that I couldn’t jump them. I realized, finally, in a liberating moment, that there was no higher power that could give me the tools, the permission, or the power to change my body… I could do it myself, I had the power, and I could do it if this is what I truly wanted.
And then, a few days later, I told my wife. I opened up to her, told her what I had realized, who I was, what this meant for me and her, how I lives could change to adapt to this new reality. I told her of all the little things that confirmed to me that I was really a repressed woman, so much so that I didn’t even realize it myself.
For example, when I was around 18, I debated for weeks on whether or not I should steal some of my mother’s estrogen hormones and start taking them (she was a little negligent on her schedule of that and somewhat forgetful). I didn’t for fear of getting discovered and ridiculed even more than I was at school for having manboobs (or so they would have thought). I had multiple dreams where I was or turned into a woman (real dreams, not ones i controlled or asked for), and even some where I had sex as one… oh so sweet vivid dreams that left me craving for more. In 2004 I dressed up as a woman with a bunch of friends (well, girls dressed as men) for support of the LGBT community… And I loved it. There are multiple but small steps like this that I am slowly remembering and that confirm that I was really Evelyne all along, I just hid it so well I couldn’t find it myself.
And how did vicey, my loving wife, take it? Well, that’s a story for another post. I think 1600+ words is enough for today!