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This is a post I originally put on CDH a while back. I wanted to share it. It deals with the point where I gave myself over to my inner woman and represents a metaphor for the great upheaval and cataclysm that was the start of my true life.
A friend of mine here commented that I had come a long way since I had first came on CDH today, which naturally caused me to think back, and read some of my old posts (not too many of them, I’ve written enough to fill a fair size book lol). How did all this get started? Cause a year ago, I was wandering along, a random guy, not a skirt in sight, not even a kilt on my mind…
Tiffany has always been there….hibernating and biding my time, ever since I was a little kid…also unaware…but here nonetheless.
But the mind is a powerful thing, and the drive to survive and thrive is as well. Growing up in Texas in the 1980s, I had recognized it was necessary to cram little Tiff into a cell deep within the basement in my mind, where the sweet little girl who loved kittens and bunnies and hugs got to cry herself to sleep every night, still praying to God to make her real and to let her play in the sun one day, just as she had every night since she was 6 years old. Little Tiff was 7 at the time, and her screams went unheeded, unanswered, echoing in the dark while a little boy, equally troubled, grew up in her place.
Those screams continued, unabated and unheard, for 36 years. Maybe the prayers were heard though, and maybe the chain of events to be started that day in first grade where I found that my likes and dislikes were not appropriate according to man.
Thankfully even the strongest wall has cracks when it’s made.
Fast forward to near present day, over two generations later…November 2018. A bored me, not having dressed in 18 years or so, playing around on the internet, stumbles upon a stupid little app, which can turn your picture from male to female…something which has far stronger appeal to me than I expected…so I downloaded it, and put the ring on my finger….
A week later, I’d taken 300 pics of myself, and turned them all into proto-tiff. I did not look that good, but there was no doubt that I was hooked. I think at that point what has happened since then was inevitable, although at the time, I still was ignorant. But the crack, dormant for over a third of a century, was no longer closed. Dressing resumed in December, the trickle turned into a stream. 3-4 times in 3 months, then my wife out of town in March with the kids and I raided her makeup and ordered a wig, placing it on my head and on March 26 2019, Tiffany opened my eyes for the first time since Reagan was president. The stream became a river, and on 3/28/19, when I joined CDH, I began to drill holes in the dam and fill them with dynamite.
As I began to explore my new world, and talk with others like myself, I not only embraced the feminine side of me, I quickly realized that it was far, far stronger than I had ever dreamed. The dressing began to accelerate, and I began a never ending escalation which continues to this day.
The night of my first outing, the day that little Tiff had prayed for, so long ago, the day that the sun had finally caressed my bare shoulders along with the breeze, standing nervously but proud in the street in the company of others, a thunderous crack echoed through my mind, and the waters flowed free. First as tears of joy, the happiness of being me, and no longer being ashamed, but proud and whole and not bitter at the 3 dozen years but thankful for the chance I’d been given, the waters began washing away the fortress of masculinity that had entombed my soul.
And it all became clear.
The feelings that things were wrong. The depersonalization. The angst I could never put my finger on. The nuclear fire that drove me onwards. Why I silently cry during movies even crappy ones although widely regarded as a tough guy. Why my mentor in my profession was female, and why I was drawn to her. Why I never cared about my clothes. Every. Single. Thing. From the vast to the small. All shaped by this, dissonance unseen, for 36 years.
Relationships with a strangely inappropriate disconnect, both romantic and platonic alike, leading to upheavals and diminishment, built on false pretenses. Unknowingly at the time, but no less false for their faith on founding.
As the ministry of misdirection toppled over, and my eyes surveyed everything I had laid to waste, the smile that was on my face shone in my eyes, and my thoughts were only that today is a beautiful day to be.
The path ahead is strewn with rubble, washed downstream by the tsunami, full of pits and snares, but it is now travelled in the sunlight, by someone who rightfully is walking it, with a spring in her step.
My heart is in the game
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