by Marlisa
The crowd in the park, nearly forty stories below, looks like ants running around an ant-hill. The perfectly sunny, spring Saturday had brought many people out from their winter hibernations, releasing their enthusiasm and bringing a nearly euphoric buzz to the park.
The problem for me is that I’m standing at the top of the building, not in the park, and if I move one step farther I’ll quickly enter the street next to it.
After a long fall, that is.
How did it get to this point? Looking back, there were signs, I suppose. I’ve always been interested in a lot of things, but never interested enough to really master any one thing. A jack of all trades and master of none kind of deal, you could say.
I guess the crux of the matter is that I’ve loved dressing up in women’s clothing for as long as I can remember. Not that I’ve wanted to become a woman, though. Maybe for some people that’s the right thing, but I’ve known that I could never take that irreversible step. Haven’t I?
Besides, it’s engrained in our society that for a man to dress like a woman is taboo or a joke. It’s only acceptable if it’s Halloween or you’re a comedian like Milton Berle or Flip Wilson or Eddie Izzard. Why is that?
Can someone please explain to me how or why that is?
I doubt you can, nobody has so far. Even I can’t fully understand why it is fine for women to wear men’s pants or shirts, but a man will be called a sissy, fag or worse for wearing a blouse or skirt.
Looking back, I think I’ve always known I was different than most kids, always the shy one, never really wanting anyone to get to know me. Was it because I knew even then that they’d reject me due to my differences?
Mom’s pink, flowered blouse and skirt set were the first outfit that I ever wore. Now, I had put on a pair of her high heels before, but I think most kids do that. Mom caught me and laughed about it, but told me in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t supposed to wear her shoes. She warned me not to play with her things anymore.
I looked ridiculous in that skirt and blouse, but for some reason it felt right to me and every time I was home alone, I found something else to wear. Like a typical kid, I disregarded her warning and went back to what I wanted to do.
Pretty soon when I was 14, I had a summer job with some friends of my mom’s, working on a farm. Well, Joe and Jeanna were really nice to me, so I don’t know why I ended up taking a few of her things, but what happened after I did really shook me up after the job ended.
God, look at all the people down there. I wonder what they’d think if I suddenly showed up as a meat puzzle in the middle of the street? Hell, they’d probably just keep on with their day and ignore me like usual.
If I remember right, I took a pink slip, a bra, and some slingback pumps from Jeanna and brought them home with me. It was a few days before I had to go back to school and I was relaxing at home, taking advantage of the last few days of summer. But I wasn’t outside, enjoying it. I was inside, trying on Jeanna’s things. Now this was a weekday, so my parents were away at work, so I figured I had plenty of time.
WRONG!
No sooner than I got completely dressed up, then my dad’s taxi pulled into the driveway. I guess it was destiny that my dad caught me. I had just walked out of the bathroom, wearing the bra, slip and shoes when he came in the back door. I’ll never be able to forget the look he gave me.
Disbelief, shock, and disgust rolled across his face as I bolted back into the bathroom, my heart pounding a mile a minute.
Dad left before I came out of the bathroom, so I don’t know what would have happened next. I do know that I lost my dad’s respect, if not his love, that morning.
It still hurts today. Maybe that’s part of why I’m up here. Maybe it’s just because I don’t want to deal with all the crap that’s gone on in my life anymore.
Sigh.
Even my wife of twenty years, Lisa, has tried to accept my peccadillos, but how can she accept it or understand it when I don’t?
If I don’t do it now, I never will.
Mom, Dad, Lisa, I’m sorry for being such a disappointment.
Please forgive me.
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Comments
How sad!
If only our society were more accepting so none of us ever found ourselves on that precipice! This story reminds of that day back in high school when I had the knife in hand and probably would have used it if my sister hadn't come home unexpectedly. If she hadn't been there that day, I probably wouldn't be here now (She never saw the knife, but I talked myself out of it after that). Well written Marlisa!
Saless
"But it is also tradition that times *must* and always do change, my friend." - Eddie Murphy, Coming To America
"But it is also tradition that times *must* and always do change, my friend." - Eddie Murphy, Coming To America
Thank you
Thanks for commenting, Saless. All of the things that happened in this story, with the exception of standing at the top of the building, are true. In actuality, the only time I think I actually may have taken my own life was inadvertently stopped by a shipmate coming into the shop well after hours when I was seriously considering hanging myself. He never knew that he may have saved a life that night. Some days are better than others, and I constantly have to remind myself of that.
For all of you that read this story but did not comment, I thank you for taking the time to read it, particularly since it's not something that I ever thought I would put out for public consumption.
Marlisa
No one else can tell you best how to be yourself
No one else can tell you best how to be yourself
Don't know what to say
Powerful and sad piece. Very disturbing because it rings so true to life. If but a few incidents in his past had gone differently he would not be the wretched suicidal soul he became.
John in Wauwatosa
John in Wauwatosa
A Comment
I can certainly relate to your anguish. In fact, I almost didn't read this story because I didn't want to risk relating to your anguish. But, I'm feeling rather adult lately, and I'm glad I gave it a look.
As a part-out, part-closeted crossdresser, I still have the challenge of living a sane and healthy life, but it's a million percent better lately. The people I've chosen to share it with have been amazingly accepting and supportive. My wife still loves me, and I think we're having as much fun as ever, or maybe more. I find I'm able to meet people and make friends that I never dreamed of before, thanks to the friendly lesbian bars that don't mind a harmless eccentric who enjoys chatting and the occasional game of pool. Joining a faith community that believes in equality, practices it, and works for it in society has been great, too! My local Quaker Meeting has been involved in the gay civil rights movement for 40 years now (and more lately on trans issues, too), and I'm proud to serve on their LGBT committee where I've made some great friends. I'm not specifically "out" to the whole Meeting, but that may come as I feel more comfortable.
What is amazing to me is how much we internalize our own oppression. I think we oppress ourselves almost more than the outside world does. With each careful step I make and each new person I share my "secret" with, I feel the burden lift a little more. There's a lifetime of unlearning to do, about guilt and shame. I think there's a legitimate place for fear, though. There are some nasty people in the world, and while most of them aren't violent, they could still hurt your feelings or make your life unpleasant. Also, you have to be pretty secure in your financial and domestic situations before you take undue risk. I'm lucky in that regard.
I wish you all the best. I wish you peace, confidence, self-acceptance, friends, affirmation and whatever assertiveness you need to get there.
I've lived the life you've
I've lived the life you've described here except that luckily, I've never felt the least bit suicidal over my secret. I've just accepted it as a small percentage of who I am and carried on with living my life.
I guess my point is that I can relate. Thank goodness for the on line community... it's been an eye opener. I've always known there were people like us out there, but I had no idea how many.
The girl in me...
She's always there and usually in charge.
Forty Stories Tall
Forty Stories Tall
Forty stories to fall
Forty stories to tell
Before the sudden stop ends it all