My Transition History

Below I've compiled a brief history of my transition and associated events. The purpose for doing so is to try to give you all a little better understanding of the magnitude and scope of this issue in a person's life. Of course, everyone's story is different. That said, I've always found it interesting just how many similarities there often are between different people's transition stories.

Note on Pronouns, Names, and More: Throughout this history, I bounce back and forth referring to myself as both "Josh" and "Jess" in both first person and third person, and using both gender pronouns. I know that this is a little confusing to read, but you have no sympathy from me! If you think it's confusing to read, just try living it!

Late 1964~Early 1965: My transition story begins way back before I even poked my head out into this great big scary world. Most gender researcher tend to agree that at some point during gestation a hormonal imbalance within the womb can cause all kinds of havoc within a developing baby. In some cases this leads to the development of ambiguous genitalia. In others, the results are not even apparent outside of a laboratory. In my case, this led me to have the thought patterns and brain construct of a woman, and the physical sexual characteristics of a man. It also gave me a great style sense and a passion for Melissa Etheridge and the Indigo Girls... Go figure!

Late 1960's: Little Josh was toddling around and diddling in his nappy all during the best part of the sixties. Talk about cruddy timing! It was at the end of the sixties that I started to become aware of the differences between little boys and little girls. This was a really confusing time for me as my folks would call me a boy, while a lot of other adults thought I was a girl when they first met me. Inside I felt like a girl, but I knew something wasn't quite right on the outside...

Early 1970's: Ok, by now I'm beginning to really understand that something is rotten in Denmark. This was the time of disco and really wide bell bottoms (That's flares for you youngon's). Inside I knew that I was really different from my peers. Unfortunately for me, my peers also started to notice these differences as well. I identified with the girls much more than with the boys. Many of the girls didn't want to hang around with me because I was a boy, and many of the boys wanted to kick my ass because I wasn't more like them. It was around this time that I started to realize that it might be a wise move for me to keep some of my thoughts and feelings to myself. Regardless, a leopard can't easily change his spots, and I ended up spending the majority of my youth being singled out as the weirdo kid in school.

Mid 1970's: When I was a kid, we often played hide and seek around the house. I know this sounds gross as an adult, but one of my favorite places to hide was buried inside the big pile of dirty clothes inside our laundry room. It was during one of these hide-and-seek sessions that I discovered that there was something different about my mom and sister's clothes. Their stuff was much, much nicer than the boy's. They were made of softer materials, and they were much prettier. It was about this time that I started to spend an unusual amount of time hiding in the laundry room...

Before I hit puberty, I was about the same size as my rather petite mom and sister. This was very convenient for me as a young transsexual who was totally confused about everything related to gender by this time. I would often find an excuse to stay home when everyone else was leaving, and then I'd spend hours going through their things in some crazy effort to try to understand what it was to be a girl. My mom had this beautiful red cocktail dress that she never wore hidden away in the back of her closet. When I was alone, I would often put on that lovely dress and pretend that I was a ballerina or a princess. I can still remember just how disappointed I was when I hit my growth spurt and I could no longer fit into it.

Late 1970's: I went through puberty at a fairly young age. As a result, my voice deepened and I started to grow taller and fill out. I just wasn't filling out quite the way I had wanted to. I spent many a night going to bed wishing and hoping that I would somehow wake up as a girl. I wanted breasts and a vagina. I sure didn't want all that icky body hair!

By this time I was painfully aware that the world regarded people like me as totally crazy and messed-up. I was a freak in the eyes of the world. And after hearing that message a thousand times in everything from movies and books to the television and the idle comments that people make to one another, well, after hearing it enough times, I started to believe it myself. I can say from first hand experience that this is *not* an effective way to form a healthy self-attitude!

So, here I was, a young 'tween with a crappy self-identity and a confused gender, fully convinced that the world would stone me if it knew how I *really* felt inside. You could say I was somewhat apprehensive about life, eh? As a result, I made the decision that I would try to do away with these "perverted", "sicko", feelings and try to become a real man. And what did real men do, I asked my little 12-year-old mind? They had sex!

Thus I began my dubious efforts to find masculinity in the arms (and beds) of as many women who would have me. So, at an embarrassingly young age, I was pretty regularly doing what all the so-called macho guys were only talking about doing.

Note on Sexual Orientation: I'm going to pause the timeline for a minute in order to say a quick word on sexual orientation. There is a significant difference between a person's sexual orientation and their perceived gender. Personally, I have always been attracted to women. The fact that I have changed my gender does not affect my sexual orientation. I am still attracted to women (a fact that greatly relieves my spouse!). While it is true that some transsexuals do change their sexual orientation at or around the same time that they change their gender, this is not always the case. To put it a little more bluntly, I once was a straight man, but now I am a lesbian woman. Life's sure confusing, isn't it?

Early 1980's: During my high school years things were still just as confusing as ever. I still felt like a girl inside, wanted to be one on the outside, hated this fact, and continued to try and cure myself via the old tried and true (not!) method of sleeping my way to masculinity.

About this time, a number of important things happened in my life. First, I started to learn successful methods of *acting* like a man. I eventually got so good at this that later in life I started to earn a reputation as somewhat of a macho guy myself! The next thing that happened was that after dodging the bullet for so many years, I finally got hit. My then girlfriend got pregnant and nine months later we were the oh-so-young parents of a beautiful little girl. Finally, the third major event was my marriage to said girlfriend and our ultimate conception of two more wonderful children. Please understand that while all of my children are fantastic blessings in my life, none of them were brought into this world with the proper forethought or preparaion. After all, we were only kids ourselves, and definitely not prepared to go off creating our own kids...

Mid 1980's: After sitting out of school for about two years in order to support my family, I finally had the opportunity to go to university. So, in the fall of 1985, I, my then wife, and our children all moved to Vincennes, Indiana, in order to begin my advanced studies in data processing.

During this time I continued wishing for a life of femininity, but I felt that achieving such was an impossibility especially given my responsibilities as a parent and a spouse. Even though I though that I could never really become the woman that I felt inside, I still persisted in my fantasies and my occasional dressing-up sessions. These sessions were almost inevitably followed by a huge wave of guilt and depression. Remember, I had pretty much bought into the whole notion that transsexualism was a perversity, so feeling compelled to express this facet of my life left me conflicted and full of self-hatred. It was not a good time in my life.

Late 1980's: By this time I was a thoroughly messed-up and depressed person. I was seeing a counsellor in order to try and cure me of my desire to be a woman. In addition, my then spouse and I were seeing a couples-counsellor in order to try and repair our rapidly eroding relationship. The two of us had conceived and delivered our third child and the stress of everything was effectively tearing us apart. Finally, a spate of mutual infidelities (she first) struck the death-blow to our relationship. I pretty quickly fell into the darkest despair of my entire life.

Ok, now I don't plan on getting preachy on you all. That said, this next part of the story is a crucial element to the whole. Actually, I could safely say that this next part is the most important part of my whole life story.

So, one really dark, depressing night I made the decision that there was no cure for me and it just might be best if I checked out a bit early, so to speak. I sat in my room that evening on the edge of making a one-way decision when it occurred to my addled brain that if I continued on this path, I would be unconditionally abandoning my kids. Quitting on myself wasn't a problem at that point, but Quitting on my kids was an unacceptable solution.

I realized I was trapped.

And in that moment of ultimate frustration, I said my first prayer. Well, it might be a little more accurate to say I shouted my first prayer! I yelled at God that evening. I demanded a response to the question, "that if I *had* to live this shitty life, how was I to do so and be happy?"

Well, I got my answer.

This really surprised me. The Big Guy and I had never been on the best of terms. I had always believed in a creator, but I saw them as more of a mad scientist somewhere out there, looking down on us in our vast petri dish. I had never previously bought into all that "personal relationship" and "merciful creator" stuff. So when God decided to give me a personal callback, suffice it to say I was a bit shocked. And skeptical. You see, God told me quite simply that if I wanted to be happy, I should just get off my butt and start doing it. I needed to stop focusing on all the crap and start paying attention to the magnitude of blessings in my life.

Sounds a little like Norman Vincent Peele, doesn't it? A little too easy, eh? As I said, I was skeptical. That said, even I'm smart enough to know that only a fool asks for advice and doesn't listen to it, when admittedly they themselves don't have a clue.

So, what did I do? I went to sleep! When I woke the next day, I decided that even though the devine advice didn't seem to make much sense to me, I'd give it a go. I spent the next week feeling all fake and plastic trying to convince myself that I was blessed. And then the next month. It did seem to start getting easier, but after two months it still didn't feel genuine.

And then, miracle of miracles, about three months later I was sitting in the Student Union building on campus, and I realized that I was happy. No real reason why. I was just happy. I almost started crying right then and there.

I decided that if God was going to go out of his way to help me out, I was gonna need to say "Thank You" for the assistance. That's when I decided to look for a faith that seemed to fit me and ring true. After doing quite a bit of looking, I finally decided to become a Catholic. This ended up being a great decision, because not only do I believe in the major premises, but shortly thereafter I met Sharon who was a Catholic from birth. It kinda worked out, eh?

I don't want to get into a big theological discussion on the merits and detractions of the major world religions, but suffice it to say that it works for me. That's what's important, isn't it?

Now, this all happened when I was in my early 20's, and at that stage I still wasn't ready to accept myself as a TS. But my newfound faith gave me the strength and opportunity to look further into my soul and to explore what I felt was truth. This ended up being a very long path and it wasn't until I was in my late 30's that I was finally ready, willing, and able to accept me as I am. Ahh, but that part of the story is coming up!

Early 1990's: Well, after the break-up of my first marriage, I vowed to never fall in love again. About a year and a half later Sharon showed up and screwed up that plan! Now Sharon is quite simply the most wonderful person in the world and the most dear to my heart. I know that doesn't have much to do with my transition story, but I wanted to say it anyway! As she and I got closer, and as our relationship grew, I told her about my dressing. I have to admit, I didn't make much of it at first, mostly because I was still trying to find a "cure" and rid myself of this curse. I don't think that she believed me at first, but one way or the other she decided to stick around.

We were married on December 30th, 1990. Each day since then our love has grown. Dang, am I blessed!

Mid 1990's: Sharon and I adopted two sisters, age 9 and 10, from Haiti in the mid 90's. One of the girls had a serious health condition that was threatening her life. I don't know who I did this for, her or me, but I made a deal with God that if he would let her live, I'd give up wanting to be a woman. I took all of my female clothes and other paraphernalia, bagged it all up, and dropped it in the dust bin. This lasted for three years before the pressure to express myself became so crushing that I prayed God would release me from my vow. I should have known better than to go and try and make deals with God, eh? By the way, my daughter is alive and well, and today I really *do* buy into all that "merciful creator" stuff!

Late 1990's: Back in counselling, still trying to rid myself of my "perversion". Guess what, it still isn't going away...

Early 2000's: Ok, now things are starting to happen. At this point in my life I am seeing a new counsellor. While traditionally trained, this woman works for the church and utilizes a more faith-based approach to helping people. After one of our sessions, instead of leaving her office and heading home, I stopped by the church to pray. Once again, I was praying for release from this "curse". On that very special day, God threw me another curve ball.

Once again, the Big Guy decided that I needed a little pep talk, only this time the message was that I was made the way God wanted me made. I was a good person, and I had value just the way I was. He closed with the very wise (He's God after all!) thought that that bit about "loving your neighbors like yourself" requires a person to first love themselves... (devine Hint, Hint)

Well, that little chat pretty effectively set me on the road that I'm on today.

From that point I decided to try and stop hating myself and start being a little more loving and compassionate to myself. After all, I thought, I would never be as unkind to another person as I was to myself. I also decided that I was going to stop trying to eliminate the TS part of me (it wasn't working anyway) and start to try and understand it better. That led me to look into Gender counselling, and that's where I really started to learn what all of this gender dysphoria stuff was really about.

I spent about a year working with the director of the world-renowned Kinsey Institute for Research in Sex, Gender, and Reproduction. After all, they were the experts on the subject! It was there that I was first (and finally) diagnosed as having Gender Identity Dysphoria. Well, that settled it. I now knew what the problem was, I just needed to figure out what to do about it.

I had already talked to Sharon about my pep talk with God, and we both went to some of the meetings at the Kinsey Institute. As a result, she knew what was going on. She also knew that I considered my relationship with her as more important than my own needs. As a result, we decided that we wouldn't take any step forward with the gender issue unless we were both in agreement about it. She would at all times have full veto power over the process. We also decided that we would only take baby steps forward, and evaluate each as it happened.

This was a somewhat unusual approach for a TS. Most TS's would say that it was essential to their life that they transition. Personally, I feel that Sharon is *more* essential to my life than even this. Additionally, since I do believe in a hereafter, I figured that if it was supposed to happen and if it didn't happen here, then it would sure happen over there...

2003: About this time I start getting laser hair removal on my facial hair and discovered what real pain is all about! If any of you are under the mistaken impression that transsexualism is a choice, just lay for an hour or two on the table of a laser technician or an electrolisist. Let me assure you, no one would willingly go through all of that without there being a *damn* good reason!

In addition, I started to go out a *little* bit more as Jess. As I think I've mentioned previously, I had never been all that comfortable "dressing-up". It never really felt genuine to me. It was kind of like going to a fancy dress party as a Vicar. You might look the part, but it's not real. I wanted something real. Regardless, I forced myself to go out more and more in order to give myself some kind of reality check. Was this really for me? Could I really shed the external elements of "Josh" and let "Jess" blossom? I took a long time looking for an answer, and in some ways I'm still looking. Jessica is definitely blossoming, but her roots are firmly embedded in Josh.

I also started looking for support in the trans community. At this time I lived in the middle of Indiana. It's not exactly a thriving metropolis out there in the cornfields! The only support groups I found were for transvestites and crossdressers. There is a huge difference between a transsexual and a transvestite, and I was unable to relate with most of the people whom I came into contact with. It really wasn't until I moved to London before I found what I was looking for. That's not to say that there weren't other transsexuals in Indiana. More that we were all so afraid that we kept ourselves pretty firmly closeted.

Early to Mid 2004: Perhaps I had been a little hesitant to go out and about as Jess, but that didn't mean that Jess didn't want out! In fact, the more freedom I gave Jess, the more she wanted. She had been locked up in a dark little room in my soul for a long, long time and she wanted finally to run free. Sharon and I had been taking baby steps, but it was time to go a bit farther...

Sharon and I had always had a dream of living abroad, and here I was wanting to live as a broad! (Sorry for the bad pun...) So we took our desire to travel and my desire to move further along in transitioning, and we started looking for a way to facilitate both. Well, as luck had it, my employer had an opening for someone with my skills in the London office. This was our chance to travel much more throughout Europe, and it also afforded us a safe environment to let Jessica out of her dark room more often. Well, I got the transfer and we were all off to the United Kingdom. Sharon and I were both excited about the change, but at the same time we were apprehensive about what the future might hold.

Shortly after moving to London, I started hormone therapy. I had had the prescriptions for quite a while back in Indiana without actually filling them. This was all such a huge change for Sharon and I that I really didn't want to make any mistakes. But after moving to London, it was finally the right time.

Late 2004: I was going out more and more to various safe venues around London. Unfortunately, just because a place is trans safe doesn't mean that it's a nice place to go. I found myself in some pretty dodgy clubs, with some pretty questionable stuff going on around me.

I have to tell you that it really makes me mad how society treats those of us who are different. For the most part, we are not allowed into mainstream society and we are forced to scurry about in the dark places of the world just get out and live our lives. Jessica had been trapped in a teeny, dark room for far too long already. She wanted to walk in the sunlight for a change! She wanted to be free. I wanted to be free.

Wanting to be free, and actually being free are vastly different things.

Back then, I really couldn't unambiguously present myself as a woman. Imagine all the whispered (and sometimes not) comments that were made as I walked past people on the street. It wasn't fun. I had lived most of my life feeling like a freak. It was only recently that I had been given permission to love myself and doing so was still (is still) a pretty tenuous task most of the time. I knew I didn't want to live my life being considered a freak by every passing jackass on the street. Not only is it humiliating, but it's also potentially fatal. Would I ever be able to present myself unambiguously if I decided to transition?

It wasn't all about the strangers on the street. More importantly, I didn't know if I would be accepted by my family, friends, and co-workers. Many people in my situation have lost everything and everyone in their lives as they transitioned. What a horrible price to pay...

Some people will say that I'm not a *true* transsexual (whatever that means) because, to be honest, I wasn't willing to give up my wife and children, my family and friends, my home and my career, just to transition. Does this mean that I really don't want it enough? I don't think so. I think it means that I've looked at my life a little more rationally than some. Allowing Jessica to live and laugh and dance wasn't worth killing off the rest of my life to get. But once again I ask, why should I have to pay that price? Why should anyone have to pay that price just to be whole?

Maybe I'm a bit vain, but I felt that my appearance was going to be a big factor in being accepted by most people. As a result, I started looking into facial feminization surgery (FFS) at around the end of 2004. It was at this time that I came across the fantastic work being done by Dr. Douglas Ousterhout. When I first saw his before-and-after photos, I started crying. Perhaps there really was hope for me eventually being accepted as a woman! If so, I was ready!

The more I learned about the various surgical options that were available, the more excited I got. But if I was going to take that step, it would require a *lot* of changes. First, I'd need to finally tell people. And not just a select few. I was going to have to tell *everyone*. Family, friends, co-workers, neighbors, and more. As I mentioned above, I wasn't willing to lose everyone, so I had to let them know instead of just running away. After all, they were going to be seeing a big change in me, and they would have lots of questions. Next, Sharon would need to be OK with it. We had always gone pretty slow up to this point, but surgery meant stepping on the gas.

After much talk, a lot of prayer, and a more than a few tears, we made the decision to schedule surgery for the end of March, 2005. As soon as it was on the calendar, we began to tell people the news. I was terrified, but as it turned out I didn't need to be. I guess it's a credit to the kind of people that I associate with, but folks accepted me and my news better than I could have ever hoped for. It was truly amazing. I have a section elsewhere in this site that discusses telling friends, family, and my employer. Take a look there for more details on talking to people.

Early 2005: Surgery! Oh, my! What do I say about surgery? Well, first, I had to arrange with work to take an extended leave of absence in order to prep for surgery, and then afterward for recovery. We next had to work out the finances needed to pay for it all. Believe me, it isn't cheap and insurance doesn't pay for anything!

It makes you wonder, doesn't it, that if someone were born with a club foot or a cleft palette, insurance would surely pay to have it repaired. But this type of birth defect? Faaagettaboutdit. Doesn't sound very fair, eh?

After finances, we needed to arrange all the hundreds of details. As the various surgeries would be performed in San Francisco, we had to arrange travel and lodging both before and after my hospital stay. All told, we needed to be in San Francisco for the better part of three weeks.

Finally, there was the surgery itself. Now, I had never undergone any type of major surgery. I was ascared outta my skin! But I was also very excited. You see, I had made the decision that surgery would be almost like Jessica's birthday. After surgery, Jess was coming out full-time and Josh was climbing in the back seat for the rest of the trip.

As it turns out, while the surgery was very draining, it wasn't horribly painful. Nowhere near as bad as electrolysis! You see, they give you really, *really* good drugs in the hospital and during recovery. I was in such a chemical induced fog during that time that I can barely remember a thing! I did have visits from Elvis, the Queen, and a few passing spacemen from Alpha Centauries. It was a shame that Sharon must have been out of the room at the time, because she missed all of my visitors.

I thought that getting back to London following surgery was going to be a challenge due to my conflicting passport photos and my face. I didn't need to worry. My face was so swollen and bruised that everyone just showed mercy on me and passed me through without a question! You see, at the time I looked less like a woman and more like a massive trauma victim!

I've got more details on all the gory aspects of the various surgeries elsewhere on this site. If you are into horror films and torture stories, check out the details there!

Current: So, following San Francisco I've been focusing on recovering from surgery, working on my voice, and just generally getting my sea-legs over this whole thing.

As far as my voice, it has been slow going. I had planned on aggressively working on my voice following the operations. This was pretty naive on my part as my throat was still pretty sore following surgery. Once I was up for it I started working on raising my pitch and improving my overall vocal quality. These practices would take between an hour or two a day, and would usually leave me pretty exhausted. You would be surprised at just how tiring voice training can be! And then, about three weeks into training, I caught a bad cold that left me congested and coughing for almost three more weeks! It was all I could do to speak in any voice, let alone my preferred voice! In hindsight, I now realize that I should have started working on my voice long before surgery. I guess that's why they say that hindsight is 20/20.

My face has remained swollen, but things have improved. About ten weeks out, the swelling was limited to my chin, jaw, and nose and all of the bruising has vanished. Each day my appearance and spirits improve. I'm now getting ready to go back to work. I'm pretty nervous about that, but I'm also ready for it.

I'll write an update as soon as I have something to write about!