Soliloquy

[Elizabeth]

Soliloquy

By Elizabeth

I have been in search of myself for quite a while now. Most recently my

quest has taken me places I never dreamed I could go. But as each new

door has opened for me, I only find another door ahead of it. It seems,

as I look back, it has always been this way.

As a child I clearly remember crying in my basement sleeping area, it

was not really a room, just an open basement with dirt and mortar

walls, and a musty stench that you would expect in a cellar. And during

these times of crying in solotude, I remember wondering what it was

about me that everyone disliked so much. why was everyone so mean to

me. I had done nothing wrong, I had not lied, cheated or stolen from

anyone. I had no ill intentions at all. I remember thinking of all the

things I would say when someone came down to ask me why I was so upset.

No one ever came to ask me.

So, I stopped crying when my feelings were hurt. Eventually I forgot

how to cry at all. I lost my compassion, because if I could not cry for

myself, I was not going to cry for anyone else. If no one cared how I

felt, I was not going to care how anyone else felt. I interanized all

my feelings, knowing no one else cared. I became an entity unto myself.

I trusted no one with my deepest feelings. How could I? I liked playing

house with my girl cousin more than I liked playing football with my

brothers. I was afraid of other boys. Not just physically in a sense of

who could beat up who, but more in a sense that they would ask me to

be a boy.

They might want to throw a baseball, which I could not do. I was left

handed in a small town in Wyoming, there were no left handed mits. And

even had there been, I could not throw it a fourth the way other boys

my age could. They may ask me to go sledding or tubing, but I could not

go to the top, it scared me. They may ask me to box with the boxing

gloves they got for Christmas,but even the slightest hit to my nose

would make it bleed. They may ask me to jump bikes, but I could only

make short jumps that did not require a lot of risk. They may ask me to

lift weights, but I was always the weakest person. And with boys, there

is always the "pecking order" who could beat up who. Well, no one was

afraid of me. Even kids younger than me.And I dared not bring anyone

home, they could find out my biggest secret. I was a bedwetter.

When I was nine I injured my eye and had to have surgery to repair the

cornea, nothing today, but very new at the time, in fact the first

cornea transplant had just been done. I was rushed to Salt Lake City

where one of the best eye surgeons sewed my cornea back together. But

then I was left there alone for four days, tied to a bed to make sure I

did not rub my eyes, and with both eyes patched. Never have I felt so

alone and so afraid.

I survived it, and returned to school. I did not get a card from one

person. No big poster with all the kids wishing me to get well. In fact

only my grandmother sent a get well card. I still have it. With my

return home came many more visits to the doctors office. It was at one

of these visits that I read an article about a woman trapped in a man's

body. I read the whole story and I could not beleive it. This man had

all the feelings I had. His story could have been my story. Except one

difference, he was in his forties, and I was nine. I wondered why this

man in so much pain waited until his forties to do something about it.

I did not understand the ways of the world yet, it was 1970.

I thought about this article a lot as time went on. And soon my sisters

underwear were becconing me from the top of the dryer. I resisted for

a long time, for over a year I am sure. But I had to know, was I a girl

trapped in a boys body? Finally at age eleven, I got up my courage and

secretly stole a paif of my sisters underwear and hid them under my

covers. Later that night I put them on. It was incredible. It felt so

right. I KNEW IT!!!!!!! I was a girl trapped in a boys body.

Not long after this I started puberty and that great feeling from

wearing my sisters underwear turned into sexual excitement. But still I

kept my secret. I started growing my hair long at age ten, and now it

was pretty long. I still really only had one friend, and he was banned

from playing with me, when he told his mom that my older brother smoked

marijauna.

Through junior high and high school I kept my secret. I started playing

guitar at age 14, so in high school I could get away with wearing more

feminine clothes.My sister gave me a jacket she made out of blue

crushed velvet. It had puffy shoulders, and looked quite feminine. I

love it, and wore it frequently. Even though my friends said they

thought it looked "gay".I had a small collection of girls underwear

that I had stolen from my sister over the years, we now wore the same

size clothes. But I only wore them at night, in the privacy of my bed.

I continued over the years to always beleive I was a transexual. I

never told anyone. I started dressing up all the way as soon as I was

out on my own. But I still could not do it all the time. Only late a

night. I worked, so I could not put on nail polish. I had no makeup, or

any clue about how to put it on. But when my sister had done spring

cleaning right before I moved out, I went out in the middle of the

night, sorted through the garbage bags, and liberated some clothes.

That was my wardrobe for several years, other than buying panties.

At twenty two I met and fell hopelessly in love with this twenty six

your old woman with an infant child. I was so smitten my need to

crossdress evaportated. I even questioned whether or not I was a

transexual. Thinking more likely I was filling a need for love, by

dressing. But my needs would not be held off long. Not long after we

moved in together, her mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She had

to return home to Tennessee. While she was gone, I put her nightgown in

bed next to me, it smelled like her and was comforting. I could not

resist the temtation to put it on. And when I put it on? The magic was

still there. No, not sexual excitement. Fulfillment.A feeling of

"coming home".

After that I knew I was still a transexual, but he desire to wear

womens clothes was not overpowering, expecially when she was there. I

resisted because we were already engaged, I was very much in love with

her, and it was not hard to resist. It was like wanting a car you can

not afford. It would be nice, but not likely.

After living together for two years, and a year of marriage the

craziest thing happened. My wife came to bed in my underwear. She

thought it was a total turn on to do it, and just seeing how excited it

got her, made my quite happy. So? I asked if I should put on hers? She

said it would be ok. So I did. It was very exciting. To be in bed with

my wife, this woman I was incredibly in love with, and to be wearing

girls underwear. Not just any girls underwear, hers. We made love and

it was incredible, It felt to me as if I was finally sharing this

secret about myself with this person I loved and trusted implicitly.

However, I think she looked at it as a one time deal. From this point

on in my life, there was never any doubt in my mind that I was

transexual. I started wearing her underwear secretly. And to bed a few

more times, but she seemed dismayed by it. I started wearing all the

sexy lingerie that I bought her, that she would not wear. I started

wearing her underwear to bed in secret. And once got up the courage to

wear panties, garters, and stockings during love making. Again her

actions showed she did not approve, although she never said anything.

And for a long time this was how it was. I wore her stuff under my

clothes, to work, and washed them in the sink by hand and dried them

with the blow dryer while she was at work. This evolved into me wearing

her dresses, and I found a box of clothes her mother gave her that had

two pairs of girls shoes size ten wide. I could just squeeze into them.

I was eventually discovered and she purged all of it, and said how it

sickened her. I had to promise not to do it again. The rest of my

marriage would continue this purge and promise circle.

So? Here I am, 43 and now I dress up everyday. It still makes me feel

great. I still beleive I am a transexual. The love of my life has moved

on because she says the crossdressing turned her off so much, she had

to seek other men. Manly men. And now she lives with one of them. My

oldest daughter it turns out has known about most of the affairs, and

met most of my wife's boyfriends. Always keeping the secret from me.

Keeping us from ever really have a real trust relationship. Ironically

she was instumental in me coming out of the closet.

Here I sit, crying alone, thinking of all the things I would say if

someone asked. And still, no one does. I am still that nine year old

boy in many ways. I have been a good person. I have not lied, cheated,

stolen. I mean except for this thing about me. I have really helped

those around me when I could. I have raised my children to value

themselves, by valuing them first.

I have been in search for myself, but is seems everytime I find me, I only

find what I was, not what I am. The simple knowledge of who where I

I have been, seems of itself to transform me. Like that nine year old boy

I feel frightened, alone and wondering where my life is going. I have lost

the false bravado, and false confidence that used to abound me. I have let

it go. I do not pretend to know where my path leads any longer. I don't

know if the choices I have made are correct, because they don't feel like

choices any longer. I have finally jumped into the white water rapids of

life, and they are carrying me away on a current that obeys no one.


I don't know how I can feel so all alone, even with my children nearby. Yet

I do. I am afraid they will share in my pain. And that frightens me. And

just as that frightened nine year old boy asked, I ask "god, why me? what

is your plan for me?"

And still he does not answer.

The End

Sidenote:

Words: 2009

Female Score: 3083
Male Score: 2768

The Gender Genie thinks the author of this passage is: female!

[Virginia]

Elizabeth,
What was it that was said at a confrontation in a restaurant by one of our sisters? You can say it to life: I am more man than you will ever be and more woman than you could ever handle!
Keep the faith, darlin!
Love ya,
Virginia

[Elizabeth]

Virginia,

I love that phrase. I wish I could think up stuff like that.

I hope I did not sound so glume, but after rereading it, it sounds different than I feel. What I was trying to express was that most of my adult life, I thought I knew where my life was going.

It turns out, I did not and in my opinion, no one knows where there life is going. So now I have come full circle, as if I were nine again just realizing I was a girl trapped in a boy's body, not knowing what it means, and not knowing where it is going to take me. And that frightens me. Not in a sense of something bad is going to happen to me, but in a sense of admitting I have no control over where my life is going.

Thanks for remembering that qoute of our sister. It is so true. And now I have all of you, and I am able to be dressed everyday, which makes me feel just terrific. That and my children bring a great deal of happiness to my life, that I did not enjoy when I was nine.

Love always,
Elizabeth