I posted this as a comment to "Who Was I", and then realized that it may be for a wider readership.

My dears, coming out as a T girl can be extremely hard for most of us. Perhaps coming out in our teens is easier but I don't see how it could be. Now, into my 4th year fully out, I can see a posible future for myself. Before was all about death and dying.

I just wanted to make sure that you all know that some Therapists believe that T girls especially rationalize ourselves into favorable memories to try to make it OK for us to live. Some say this. In my own opinion, this is bull shit. I have however examined my recovered memories and sincerely believe them to be true. Sometimes, you just have to believe in yourself.

For me, it all started in later life, and my being jealous of women. (I was married, and deeply in love with my then wife.) As time went on, waaaay before realizing I was T, my X once told me that she was not going to allow me to live my life out vicariously through her. There is much I've left out of it all, so I can just tell the story of my memory recovery. I knew that I hated men all my life. Worse yet, I was one. I eventually realized that I was transgendered. In the early 80's, my X and I talked about the problem, much like Bill and his wife are talking now. At that time, she said that she could not stand my being a woman in the same house with her. My love for her, and my sense of responsibility as a christian, made me try extremely hard to just "stuff it" and go on with life. I valued my relationship with her and my children above my own identity.

It wasn't until 20 years later that my X had grown distant because of her career; she is a very powerful and dynamic woman; that the SHE within me began to literally force her way out. I was also bereft because all my babies had grown up, gotten married and left.

It was during all the therapy that happened since then, that the early childhood memories have begun to filter back in. By then I was out and living as a woman, I'd been abandoned by my family and church. I'd been seriously injured in a fall down a manhole, dealing with pain all the time and had no job.

The first memories were of being a toddler and being dressed in a pretty yellow dress. I wanted to go out and play in the dirt with the boys, but Mom said, "No Gwen, you'll get your pretty clothing all dirty".

Then, later I remembered my first haircut, with my Mom bawling, my stepfather being extremely angry and him sitting me on a stack of phone books; forcibly cutting my hair. This was traumatic, to say the least. It was only a little later, during that time, that I first found out that they thought I was a boy. I don't think that I actually saw a pussy until I was almost 20. But I knew that girls were different, much nicer than boys, and got these adorable lumps on their chests. They got to wear pretty clothing too!

I think that my Mom saw the girl in me first, right after I was born. It is she who tried to feed that tiny girl. Where she alive today, I believe she would be happy for me.

I am 60 now. In the last year, I have remembered that I once walked into the living room, sat down with all the others. I began to think about who I was. It didn't take me long to understand that I was most like my Sister, and my Mom. I had no desire to be like my brothers and most certainly, nothing like my step father. I then got up, went into my sister's room an put her skirt on, and walked back into the living room. The scene that happened that day rivaled what Armageddon will be like. It was awful. After that, I was in deep stealth for the rest of my life until about 2000. I was about 5 at the time.

Be careful what you try to remember. It may hurt more than you want it to.

I sincerely hope that "Bill" in the story does not lose his wife, children and everything else in this.

Many blessings

Gwen Brown

[Admin Note]: For some unknown reason, this blog vanished and had been bugged. It is being reposted for the fairness of the author.