I’ve fought through pain. Once on a mission, I landed on a rooftop, right near the edge, it collapsed under the impact of my touchdown and I fell another two stories without my chute and broke my ankle. I had to get up and keep going as I was one four people on the mission, duty and adrenaline carried me through to pick up.

I learned that day that physical pain is easy.

I was back in my quarters. The MPs and a clerk were with me, mainly to take the classified papers away with them and to make sure I didn’t take anything I wasn’t supposed to.

I opened up my locker and removed my uniforms. They were Army property and so I left them on my bed. I went through all my personal items, leaving the military items and issued items plainly visible on my bed. Anything that was a civilian item or something that I purchased was set on my desk. I did keep my medals and citations. I earned them and no one would take them from me without a fight.

As I looked, the size of the piles were very different. The military items were 75% of “my things” I realized I just didn’t have that many personal items. The clerk had gone through my computer hard drive and started deleting items and programs. As I looked, I realized everything on the computer was either a military application or document. As soon as all classified material was removed, the clerk and MPs were able to return to their routine duties.

All my personal things fit into three boxes it was kind of sad for 10 years in the Army.

As I took the paperwork to each department required, and started turning in my issued items I couldn’t help the tears slowly leaking out of my eyes. I was in all sorts of emotional pain. It was the most horrible thing I experienced in my adult life. By then I didn’t care who saw me all I wanted to do was bawl my eyes out.

I had to try to keep a brave mask up for my men. They didn’t know what circumstances were forcing me to resign my commission. They wanted to know, but I couldn’t stand to embarrass the Army, myself or the Unit with the Army’s misconceived version of the truth. I kept it behind my teeth and let the story spread that I was taking early retirement due to unused leave. They seemed to accept that.

I had some problems trying to get out of the party they wanted to throw for me. I knew the First Sergeant and the Captain wanted me gone ASAP and as shredded as I felt, I probably wanted it more than they did. These were my men my platoon, I had sacrificed myself for them before, worried over them cried with them and I couldn’t let the mask slip safely until I was off post for the last time. I had no choice but to acquiesce.

I sent a note to Top, asking if I could take the evening and have the party with the men, to keep alive the fiction of my voluntarily separation. A note saying that was acceptable was returned. Time was on my side and Top and the Captain let me know as long as I didn’t try to access any secured stuff, I could have up to three days to clear the base. The torment of staying was unbearable, I knew it couldn’t last that long.

I couldn’t leave in haste, that might expose my shame to the rest of the world, but I couldn’t survive the emotional devastation of staying on post forever. If I could manage to hold it together it would give me time to say goodbye to everyone I cared about.

You know, I think I finally came to a conclusion somewhere during the party. Fuck ‘em. If they don’t want me in their exclusive little testosterone club, then I don’t want them either. Fuck them all to hell.

I would reflect later how ironic that statement would be. I was pretty tipsy, just a few fingers from really roaring drunk. Holding on was getting really difficult.

I was toasted and feasted, on pizza, and just about everyone come up to me and shake my hand at one time or another. A few of my men were in a “war story” group at the end of one bar talking about what our platoon had been through. Two kids credited me with straightening them up so they could be the soldiers they were meant to be.

Hearing this outpouring of camaraderie (most people would call it love), had made me maudlin again. I promised that I would stay in contact with everyone, even though we all knew that was a load of crap meant to ease the pain. I would go my way, they would go theirs. I wasn’t part of the group anymore, now I was an outsider.

I spent the next day clearing the rest of the base. There was a whole list of things that needed to be done, and packing and turning in items were only one part of it. The Sergeant in charge of the supply house let me keep all my uniforms and boots; I had paid for them from my Clothing Allowance and that made them mine.

We went down the list of items I was issued when I arrived, once they were accounted for and turned in, there was several things left over. Because the Army didn’t issue them to me, they were considered mine. I discovered I had an entire field kit, pack, poncho and so on. I guess I could always use it for camping some time.

When I went to the Weapons Depot, I found I had a couple of forgotten arms stashed there. One Lugar from World War II that I bought for as a collectable, a 9mm Beretta and a nice pump shotgun were returned to me as I cleared that area. I never had a chance to use any of them; they had been purchased one at a time at various gun shows. Regulations required they be kept at the depot. I put each one in its own locked case and locked them in the trunk of my car. I would have to get a gun permit ASAP.

I had my outgoing physical and that was it. Tomorrow I would go down to the nearest major base and to clear the final paperwork that would sever me from my life.

***

I looked at the last piece of paper to be signed in front of me. All I had to do was put my name on it and that was it. SSgt. Gregory Taylor’s death certificate, How do you willingly commit suicide and go on living? As the pain overwhelmed my emotions I numbly signed the document.

I stood outside the recruitment station in civvies it felt wrong somehow. I hadn’t worn anything but Sissy’s clothes and my uniforms for such a long time that wearing a no regulation shirt and jeans was wrong.

I felt absolutely drained. I couldn’t think. I went to my car sat in the front seat. Like a robot I started it and drove off the base.

There wasn’t anyplace I had to go or anything I had to do. I needed to get off the base and away. I drove just drove until I found a place to park.

I got out of the car, and sat on the hood. I just and stared across the lake and up at the stars. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t mourn. I was angry, sad, frustrated, hurt but most of all I was numb. I didn’t know what to do, where to go who I was.

I thought about the pistols in the trunk.

I just sat there.

***

I must have dozed off. I felt my foot being poked by something. I opened my eyes and looked at the lady cop standing by my knee.

“Sir, you can’t sleep here. You have to leave. This park is closed.”

“I’m sorry Officer. I don’t have anyplace to go. I just left the Army and I don’t know what to do now.”

When I said that, the reality hit me and I started crying.

She started to respond, but stopped herself. “Sir, it’s okay,” she said more sympathetically. “Do you have a hotel room, or a friend you can stay with? Anyplace you can go?”

I thought about Mistress. But I couldn’t impose on her. I shook my head.

She grimaced. “If you will lock up your car, we can go down to the precinct and I can see if I can find you a room in somewhere if you want?”

I nodded. I was too numb to care. Hell, being in Jail for vagrancy would be a step up from where I was now.

I emptied my pockets of everything except my wallet, the change in my pocket and the car keys. Everything else I locked up securely either in the trunk or the glove box. I tossed a blanket over the boxes in the back seat and got into her car. The officer kept a close eye on me as I got into her patrol car. I knew she’d seen the gun cases, but she didn’t say anything about them.

We drove to the police station and she took my name. For the second time in as many weeks I was in an interrogation room. I just sat there, numb.

After a bit, she left and came back with a smile on her face. She handed me some coffee and said “I heard your name someplace so I did a computer search. The computer spit out the report of the near mugging from Halloween. I noticed someone else on that report, so I gave her a call. Ms Lander said she would be out to give you a place to stay for as long as you needed it.”

Stunned. I felt like someone had cold cocked me. I couldn’t think. There was a roaring in my ears.

I don’t remember what happened next. I do remember someone babbling, thanking her even as I seemed to have vacated my body. It was like I watching the whole thing from the wrong end of a telescope.

I couldn’t move. I just sat there. I didn’t want anything, I didn’t feel anything. I don’t remember drinking my coffee. The next think I had was when I realized I was sitting in Sissy’s room.

I lost it. I couldn’t stop crying.

***

Mistress was there with me. When I woke up again, I was in my nightgown in my bed, and Mistress was with me. She had apparently held me that night, just as I had done for her. Feeling her spooned against my back again, feeling warm and protected, things took on a different perspective.

Could I start again? Was it possible for Sissy to live all day every day? Was it possible to really be a girl now, totally, instead of a man? But how could I make a living? Mistress couldn’t take care of me forever. I’d have to find something to do to earn enough to feel I was contributing to living here.

For now, I put that set of worries away and I fell back asleep, safely wrapped in Mistress’ arms.