Therapy

I have my first therapy appointment next week, it's making me nervous and anxious. Well for the sake of total transparency, its not my very first therapy session, its the first one where I'll discuss my gender and my gender dysphoria.

Yikes.

Where the hell do I begin? I suppose she won't allow me to blame everything I've screwed up in the last 60 years on anxiety created by gender dysphoria. Too bad, it would make this transition thing so much simpler.

I guess I could start with sophomore biology in high school, Mr. Brackeen (i think it's spelled right, but hey it was 1969) taught us about Christine Jorgenson. I wanted to stand up and shout "Go Christine!! ", and yes I know she was from the 1940's.  It was an awesome realization that such a transformation process was possible. It was euphoric, but the titters and laughs from the class made Mr Brackeen stop and admonish the class about human rights and maintaining an open mind. Even with that Ms. Jorgenson was slammed and labeled "crazy".  There were multitudes jokes and disparaging remarks, that really boiled down to "Eww who could do that to themselves!". There goes that euphoria.

Maybe I could jump to Thanksgiving weekend 2009.  My wife had an awesome assignment in Honolulu. The kids all had other things to do. I was gloriously alone for the whole 4 day weekend. Hmmm what could I do? Full dress and full makeup? The build up to the weekend was intense, I needed clothes, makeup, shoes and under garments. Thank God for the internet overstock.com, Glamour Boutique and our local Costco.  The only remaining obstacle was my then nearly 30yr old beard. I knew I'd get teased for shaving but in a week it would be scruffy, in two weeks it would be forgotten I'd ever shaved. So on Thanksgiving, I shaved. It took forever... when I was done with nervous anticipation I wiped the shaving cream off, wiped the mirror and there staring at me was my father. I literally wretched... not what I was hoping for, not even a little euphoric. What to do? Forge ahead! I dressed in parts; stockings and heels, heels were fun but stockings were not in hairy legs, lipstick and eye makeup were fun, foundation was not, too much time looking at my whole face in the mirror.  Nighties are fantastic, corset's suck, the one I got was five times too small. I did learn a lot that weekend: I don't know anything about corsets, with a little practice I could walk in  5 inch stiletto's (I had mastered 4in heels before) and shaving and mirrors were fucking scary.

I did learn important things too. I'm not a cross-dresser, this was not a sexual thing. I was looking for euphoria and release for me, of me. And I had no clue how to get there.

Let's hope the therapist can help me with that!!

Comments

  1. I read this again and thought maybe there would be some confusion about seeing my father in the mirror... I was not upset at seeing him, my fantasy was shattered because I looked like him. After I was out last November, I needed to shave again. Ugh, how? I put on mascara, eyeliner and my reddest red lipstick and shaved away... When I was done and looked in the mirror this time lo and behold there was me!

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    Replies
    1. I understood that you meant you were hoping to see a woman, not a man, in the mirror. Nice solution, though, for making subsequent shaves more rewarding!

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