Looking for peace

The tears were coming fast as I placed the nail tip on my finger.

I feel the tears whenever I see a woman dressed to express her femininity, or a little girl dressed to express cuteness, with a river of luxurious hair cascading down her back. I feel it when I see a mom cuddling her daughter and holding her close, or when women express a closeness that I will probably never know.

Here I am.How has it come to this?My struggles for most of my life,
being an outsider,being different.

My struggles for ALL my life. My self an agglutination of rock, ice, and dust, traveling between the stars on an orbit all my very own…

The compulsions and desires to be a woman.Always there under the surface,in the shadows and the realm of dreams.

My adult life spent seeking to understand my compulsions and desires, which has only made the cravings more acute, and the pain, sharper.

Maybe it was my torment of growing up with 4 other siblings that were older than me,yet saw me as nothing special.

Maybe it was me growing up an only child, with parents too involved in their own difficulties to see me as much more than a burden. Maybe it was because they had no idea how leaving me with the grandparents while going on a belated honeymoon would impact my life, but only saw the result, which the doctors ascribed to (congenital) autism.

Maybe it was the abuse,the rejections,the loneliness, the age difference,the constant hiding of my true self.

Maybe it was the abuse, my parents seeing me mostly as a toxic waste dump for their rage, frustration, and confusion. Maybe it was because, just as a broken window is an invitation to vandalism, a broken spirit is an invitation to rejection and bullying. Maybe it was the loneliness of my true self buried under so many wounds and scars that no one could see it—least of all, myself.

Now age has ruined my chance.

Puberty ruined mine, long before I began to free myself from my family’s grip. I lost my sweet childhood soprano voice, and became entirely hirsute. Here is how I now look in a dress:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mEhHeILa3HE

…or maybe a bit more like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZiZYVWqTNVM

(Being Ashkenazi doesn’t help much, either.)

Being 6'5 inches tall , mildly overweight does not make a good outcome for my anguish.

Being 5'3" now (5'5" at my peak), seriously overweight with a big pot belly, and hirsute, with thickly muscled shoulders and Slavic features, I cannot be mistaken for female from yards away on a dark night. After that experience, I could see no point in even trying.

I will never be a true woman.

I will never be even a faux one. And I just cannot seem to find a niche in the human world for a man with the sensibilities of a woman. A man is a man, after all, and we all know what men are, don’t we?

All the dresses and clothes cant change that fact.

No, they sure can’t, can they. But, at least there are the colors and textures of the fabric, and the occasional breeze through my skirts, which is one of the most sensual experiences… This is usually safe to do only at home, but I will never forget standing on a mountain road turnout with an accepting female friend, enjoying the fresh breezes of a newly dawning day blowing through my skirts…

So here I sit putting on nails, corset, pantyhose,

I grow and manicure my own nails, but do not paint them, so that they go unnoticed (or, at least, unremarked). That and my long hair is me thumbing my nose at the world. I still have my waist cincher, but probably wouldn’t bother even if I wasn’t too big to wear it. Hose limited to stay-ups; no use for pantyhose, any more. As for all the rest of it? Makeup makes me even more ugly, and breast forms? What for?

alone, hoping,wishing,my soul to be at peace.

Oh yes, of course, alone. And I, too, long for peace. Most likely, it will only happen when that peace finds me.

Good night, everyone…