The story you are about to read is partly fact, partly fiction, and partly faith, only the author knows the truth and others can guess. The basic details revolve around my life and the development of the last few years.

The Birth
It would seem that the softness of silk and nylon had always been a fascination to me even from the age of three but never more than at the age of forty-seven after losing over 43kg or nearly 95lbs in the old terms. For some unknown reason I found myself standing in front of the bedroom mirror dressed in only a black bra, knickers, suspender belt and stockings looking at myself and admiring what I saw in the mirror. The body was thinner than I could remember being for over thirty years and the whole image exploded in my head in a way that made my mind reel. Suddenly the doubts of the past came pouring back into my head, was I meant to be a girl, what would it be like, and what sort of girl I would be? The stream of images, doubts and questions bombarded me for a long time even after removing the clothes and putting them back neatly into their proper place so that I would not be found out.

But something had changed, like the Search for the Holy Grail I had a mission; to answer the questions and solve the doubts in my own mind. It was a period in my life that was very stressful and it was taking a toll on my peace of mind as well as my ability to cope with the demands of work and the problems that had grown over the years to a point where they needed fixing once and for all. The business had financial problems that could not be fixed by short-term sales but required cash injections from outside. I had taken these things on as being my problems and only I could save the business from ruin, my task, my workload, I just didn’t see the connection in all these things.

The quest to answer the questions of life gender and destiny began in earnest starting on the internet, forums, Google, back to chat groups, joining support groups on the web. All the time looking for answers that made sense and ones that could stand up against the questions that others would ask. The range and sheer volume of info was too much and at times did nothing but distract me from the goal as I explored the various branches of what I now understood to be transgenderism. The different types always had a great argument as to why they had it right and others had it wrong and that only they were justified in their actions. The interplay between interest groups and national or international groups sounded more like a political rally than a place to find answers for a trouble mind. I had only a small collection of clothes that I had collected over the years from skits and such like, nothing to write home about. It seemed that everyone used a femme name as they called it to hide their real names. I chose Kerry, don’t ask me why I have no idea, but Kerry was born, a bouncy 77 kg girl. It was after this that Kerry started to evolve into a person in her own right, email, signature, separate bank account, and even personality, but more on that later.
Every day seemed to bring more certainty in my goal but less hope of actually getting there, the risk of being ridiculed or cut off from work or friends, let alone wife and family. Many of the stories had endings that made me scared of losing everything and only a small percentage had what I would call a good ending where a balance of needs and wants were met for all parties. T-girls talked about being sacked, divorced, outed by their partners and workmates or even being assaulted and thrown out onto the streets with just their small piles of clothes. The amount of depression and suicide mentioned was also alarming, at times it seemed to be an expected part of being classed as transgendered. My wife Janet deserved to know what was going on in my mind but I could not answer any question about what or why and I thought that would put me at risk of losing her forever.

Early in the new year an invitation arrived for a fancy dress party, Pirates and Damsels, a chance to dress up and have fun. Only I had different ideas of the fun I wanted to have at the party, Janet could go as the Pirate I wanted to be the damsel and make everyone jealous. Over lunch I started an argument about women wearing heels, after all how hard could it be to wear them all day, get real. The girls bit straight away and after a few minutes I was gong to have to go to the party in heels, just what I wanted. Moving quickly I created a Pirates outfit for Janet and talked about what a Damsel outfit may contain and where would I get one. Looking back on this day I am amazed at how easy it was to get tacit approval for something that was so outrageous, even if they only partially understood the entire picture. I started looking at costume hire sites for damsel outfits and even asked a couple of female co-workers what a damsel would look like, they assumed it was for the wife so I told them nothing different.

The local Salvation Army thrift shop was on my way from home to work so I stopped in during lunch time. I walked around the shop looking for shoes that would suit, my neck was probably getting red as the excitement rose in my mind so I looked around for anyone that would be able to help me. At the back of the store was a middle aged woman sorting clothes and items “sorry to disturb you but I need some help buying shoes for a fancy dress party, what size ladies shoes would I need?” I asked slightly embarrassed at asking. She looked at me and simply laughed and picked up a pair of size ten 2” heels and told me to try them on in the shop. Oh, I didn’t actually think this through far enough, I thought I could just pick them up and vanish. I slipped my socks and shoes off quickly slipping my feet into the shoes, they fit and I felt very comfortable in them. No sense of enjoying the moment just getting out of there before the police came to arrest me or would the people in the shop pick up lumps of wood and attack me as being a freak. For five dollars they had a sale and I quickly headed back to work with my first piece of wardrobe in hand, the office was closed for normal business today so I would have it to myself after mid afternoon. I sat at my desk desperately wanting to try them on, waiting for the temp staff to leave. As soon as the last one had gone I raced down to my car and carefully hid the shoes in a paper bag to carry them into the office. My heart raced as I slipped off my old male shoes and socks again and gently slipped on my own new shoes, even if they were slightly scuffed. Standing up I felt the change on my stance, the way my body balanced and walking around my little office sent thoughts through my head about an entire wardrobe. Arriving home that night I put them on the table in a “show and tell” format, one that worked well to break the ice several times.

After a few days I had tried on several of Janet’s outfits without her knowing anything about my actions, the look I wanted was smart and sexy to make the most of my new body shape and make everyone see the girl instead of the male me. I could fit into some of Janet’s newer clothes that she had only recently purchased, size 12 fitted me quite well so I chose a black short skirt and tight red sweater as the ideal outfit for my “coming out” party. I got dressed one afternoon and walked into the lounge in front of Janet and the kids and said “what about this for the party?” The response was a definite negative although I had no idea why it was so bad, but then I had not really looked in the mirror at my short spiky hair. Over the next few weeks I visited several op-shops looking for bits to buy all in the cause of a fancy dress party, or so I told the sales girls. In hind sight I wonder what they really thought I was in there for, maybe they knew more than I was prepared to admit. After four weeks of shopping with Janet she was still not happy with my outfit, so determined to buy something on the day of the party she left for the last round of Op shops.

I had booked a wig and full makeup service as part of the disguise, camouflage or was it just war paint. I started with a very close shave, I had missed one for a day and a half to make sure that I would be very smooth then came into the lounge to have my nails done. Janet ran a buffer over my nails and totally missed the smooth finish they already had due to my own nail regime, then applied two coats of polish and made me blow on them until they dried, I wanted to choose the colours but that was too risky. I sat there wanting to direct the makeup artist but very cautious that it would give away more than I was prepared to let them know at this time. She applied moisturiser and then plenty of base coat that made me look very pale, just a blank palette she told me. I had no idea where she was going with the look, it went on more like paint than makeup, and made me look more like a porcelain doll than a real person; still it did hide me from the world. The outfit was a basic long purple peasant dress with tight long flowing sleeved top, a set of fake boobs made from rolled up underwear and a paper pointed cap and it looked just like Rapunzell. I had procured a pair of control pants from Janet’s leftovers that I used to tuck everything away and present a smooth front. A pair of black tights hid the hairy legs and the feel was really good as I slipped on my own shoes, a set of clip on earrings from one of my daughters and a lipstick in case of needing a touch up, a tissue and lipstick went into a glomesh purse and we were ready to hit the stage. A couple of family photos at home for prosperity and family fun afterwards and then it was into the car, I chose the passenger side and let Janet drive.

The entry into the party was fine, no body guessed it was me until I spoke and even then many had a hard time accepting it was me. My actions and gestures were strictly by the book, gentle and controlled. The shoes fitted well but after a few hours I sat down and slipped one of my feet out of a shoe and just rested, an action that was seen by a number of young girls at the party and commented on later. I was surprised that my boss made no comment or even talked to me during the entire party, in fact looking back I was totally shunned by him and his wife. The others made small talk and even the girls wanted to know what I had done and how it was so real even if it did mess with their heads slightly. The guys said how brave I was and several photos got taken, luckily none made the local press as it would have been very inappropriate for a state government candidate to be seen out and about like this. There again it may have got me more votes with the alternative voters.

The next few days were a little uncomfortable as people had problems with my outfit; no problems with getting me to do all the work I did, just nobody said anything about the party. I wanted to get clothes but was too afraid to go shopping in person so eBay became a way of getting things without getting caught. My first purchase was a really nice pink bra, my first bra, I now know why the first one is so special for girls, it marks a time of change of growing up and becoming a woman. It arrived at work one day in a plain A4 envelope after the money had been transferred electronically, the receptionist brought it into my office with an unusual look on her face. After I took it from her I understood what she would have felt, the underwire could be felt through the wrapping, nothing was ever said about this but I decided to not use the work PO box again. Little by little I purchased items on e-bay and had them sent to the post box that I had set up near work so that it was easy to collect. Each time something arrived I would race home trying to get there before anyone else and have time to try it on. Sometimes the purchase was rubbish, far from what the seller advertised, other times it was just great value and fitted perfectly.

One of the T-girls from Sydney was coming to Perth for a business trip so we arranged to meet for dinner, in drab of course, we had spent quite a while talking over the chat rooms and I felt safe enough. I picked her up in male mode from her hotel and we spent several hours over a meal talking about problems with being outed due to changes in our body and deportment. She had actually talked with a female workmate about her life and things seemed quite fine while I had no one to talk with. A week later I arranged a meeting with one of the local girls for coffee after work, she was somewhat apprehensive about meeting me but mentioning my meeting with the girl from Sydney gave her a level of confidence. Over the next months we had a few coffees when time permitted.

With work being very heavy and uncontrolled I had started having Tuesdays at home as a way of catching up, in reality it was Kerry time from the moment everyone had left for work until I put her away in the afternoon. I could dress, try makeup, shop at e-Bay, and read about makeup techniques, surf the web and chat. Kerry was free to do what ever she wanted, inside the house or back garden. One of my community activities required a trip away to the country for a conference, the choice was stay at the conference centre or find my own place so I chose a quiet motel some 5km away to ensure that others would not see me. The conference was to start at 10am so as soon as the others had left for work out came the wardrobe, or at least the bits I could take away. Coming home would be after the others got home so I had to only take Kerry gear, although she had collected a few really nice bits by now.

The conference dismissed at 4pm and I had not signed up for the main dinner preferring to stay in the motel and play. The first thing was to lay out the things I had brought and put the makeup in the bathroom ready for playtime. I slipped off my clothes and put on the new nickers and bustier that I had bought a few days earlier and then carefully slip on the black stockings and clip them to the suspender straps. The look and feeling was fantastic, the matching set cost over $90 but it was again my first piece of really nice lingerie that was truly mine. I needed both food and makeup so I put my drab clothes back on over the top with a thick sweater to cover the outline of the bustier and left my socks off. The drive to the shopping centre made we wonder who could tell that I didn’t have normal underwear on under my male clothes. I know, irrational but that’s what fear of being found out does to you. Inside the centre the shops had late night opening so I could have shopped for ages if I had the nerve to actually go into the shops that drew my attention. One shoe shop even had a special on only size ten women’s shoes from just $15 and they were just inside the door, nerves won out again and I lost. Getting foundation was easier, I just said that I was doing some stage work and needed a colour to suit my skin shade. All along I could feel the stockings tug at the belt and the feelings drove me crazy, the silky smooth legs being brushed by trousers, the delight in being dressed but hidden.

I picked up my salad and breakfast then headed back to the hotel room, safety and playtime. I put the food on the table and slipped into something more comfortable, just had to say that, then with a glass of wine and lipstick on I had dinner watching the news and wondering what it would be like to enjoy every day like this. My wardrobe also included a fairly basic wig which I found annoying as it was always putting strands into my mouth and not at all like the nice hair that I wanted but it was a work in progress and I had only just begun the “Quest for the Holy Grail”. I slipped back into trousers and a thin sweater and left the room for my own car, sitting there I slipped off my shoes and put on the heels that transformed my entire body into the girl I wanted to be. I drove around looking for somewhere to walk without being seen, a park or jetty, somewhere that I could hear the sound of heels clicking on concrete and wiggle my tush. Surprisingly there were several places that had good views of the water without putting myself in risk so I pulled over and slowly got out of the car, I still hadn’t got the movement right but as my feet hit the ground the sound rang out. I walked along the pathway towards the water’s edge and listened as the sound of heels on the boardwalk made me feel so excited to be out wearing the items I loved so much. Out along the jetty and trying to enjoy the experience before getting back into the car and finding another place to walk. The experience made me realize one thing, I wanted to get out of the house dressed just to see what it was like.

A month later I planned a country trip and a couple of days away for Kerry Time, by now my wardrobe had grown significantly and hiding it became a real hassle, bits scattered everywhere in places that only I would go. I also collected leftovers of makeup and jewellery, a wig, bra inserts, anything that would help me in the goal to see what kind of girl I would be. I chose a complete set of outfits for the trip including the new wig and some extra clothes just for the photo shoots that I wanted to do with the new digital camera I had bought. As soon as the family had left for work out came Kerry and her bags were packed, I also had several bits of her outfit under my drab clothes. I loaded the car and set off for two days alone with Kerry and my thoughts. Once out of the main town area I pulled over and made some minor changes to my outfit, the shoes that transform the entire body, the bra inserts that gave me a good size C shape and Kerry was out in the country. I drove a set route as I had to visit a couple of towns and check on their infrastructure without talking to anyone though. At one town I pulled into a local parking area off the main road, a few tables and a play area so I got out and walked around for a while, it was a Friday and that meant no tourists or even local traffic. I tried to enjoy my drink while all the time thinking about really getting out rather than being a hybrid of genders.

By evening I had come back to the same hotel I used last month and shortly after five the wardrobe was unpacked and I had food in the fridge for dinner. I hit the shower and followed up with a good shave ready for the makeup practice, this time my collection was much larger and along with eye liner, mascara, lipstick, eye shadows of many colours I wanted to try out different looks. I spent a few minutes and did my nails in a deep burgundy that I knew would match one of the outfits that I really loved as well as the lipstick I had chosen. The first two or three attempts would have fitted well in a circus rather than a girls face, the third had less of almost everything. The forth was OK so I got dressed into a very nice black dress and claret blouse along with the obligatory stockings and the new wig that came down to shoulder length and kicked under very nicely. I setup the camera and laptop so I could shoot and then download quickly and view on a large screen, this allowed me to review my handy work and make changes. I found the camera lied, the face was hideous due to too much colour, the wrong colours with the right clothes or something like that. I swapped eye shadow colour, far less, the lipstick was pale under the flash light, and stockings showed from under the dress and all along Paul was still present. I changed into pantyhose and with the better makeup the second round of shots looked much better. Through the first night I swapped into three different outfits, changed makeup, tried different hairstyles and captured plenty of photos, some of them got sent via email to my friend in Sydney for comment.

Kerry never had the pressures of work or home, she could just be the lady of leisure she wanted to be. In her life money had no bearing, the future was being created every day, and the past had never existed. One of the threads I followed on the web related to makeover services in the states and with an interstate business trip coming up I changed my searching to find a location that could help me find the girl within. A few recommendations, a couple of emails and the booking was made for six weeks time, just enough time to increase my wardrobe, makeup and accessories before flying out in search of the Holy Grail. My suitcase was filled with two kinds of clothes, those I intended to wear to the business events and those that I would wear the other times in the hotel and at the makeover. As soon as I arrived in the hotel, which was selected due to being T-friendly, I threw my male clothes into the drawers and carefully placed my nice gear in drawers in piles, neat and tidy, a place for everything. The wig was hung on a lampshade and the makeup put into the bathroom, nothing was hidden from view. My decision was that whenever I left the room I would be Paul and when I came back into the hotel I would be Kerry.

The night I arrived at the hotel was after a full day of conference followed by a five hour plane flight and a couple of taxi rides but my brain was just too active to think of sleep so I sat up and painted my toe nails and tried on some of the outfits to test what looked good. Taking a shower the next morning made an impact as the water ran down my legs and over the deep red toe nails, they looked so good, if only I could have them everyday. The rest of the morning was spent making sure everything was ready for the afternoon session with Cyanne at her studio. Just after eleven I left the hotel wearing my suspender belt and stockings, my white silk pants, and pink bra, then my jeans and loose fitting jumper to hide what lay underneath. It was a day of shopping at the markets and beauty shops, just a few items to help me out, I never did get the rings I wanted. Funnily the band of the silk G-string and suspender belt were getting higher up my back and secretly I wanted someone to see it.

Back at the hotel I waited until the time was close then had a very close shave, twice, just to make sure the beard would stay hidden for several hours. I changed my pants, made sure that all the clothes I wanted to use in the photos were packed in my backpack, left my ID in the room and called a taxi. It was only a short taxi ride but one that had taken a lifetime to start, as I knocked at the door I knew my nerves were on edge but the goal lay close at hand and I had to go through with it, I had come too far to miss out. As she opened the door and I introduced myself there was a sense of being at the start of a window cleaning exercise, removing the grime so that I could see the girl within. Cyanne as she was known was really a very nice and intelligent girl from our home town who went to school at a very well to do private church college. I suppose that her partner being TG also led her into the outside work she did with the T-community and the number of social events she helped to organise.

The first few minutes were just to make me feel comfortable, small talk as Paul, and then it changed to addressing Kerry and finding out about her needs and tastes. What colours did I like, what clothes had I brought with me, how did I get started and what did Janet
think, that was a sore point as I knew she had to be told but felt she could not handle it. I also did not know what Kerry was all about or how to explain dressing in women’s clothing and why I thought it was normal and OK. Questions that had not been answered in all the time I searched the web. I talked about being part of a church and what that entailed, Cyanne had other clients that held positions in churches and she knew of the risk of exposure. In fact several of her clients had well off jobs or prominent public profiles but still found the need to find the girl within and express their feminine side, regularly despite the risk.

Cyanne made me change into a makeup smock and proceeded to tell me about cover, foundation, eyes, all those things that I desperately wanted to know about but I was too excited to listen. It took her around 60 minutes to transform the face from Paul to Kerry and them she marched me upstairs to get changed. She had a large room set aside with clothes of all different colours and types, shoes, coats, and at least twenty wigs of all shapes and cuts. Now I would love to visit and stay for a day just playing in her wardrobe without having anything else to do apart from relax and explore. I stripped down to my basic underwear and stockings; she loved my suspender belt and asked where I had bought it from. The first thing she told me to use was a cincher that removed a few inches of waistline and that gave me a much smoother look all round. I already had my own bra on and inserted the breast forms that I had made to make me a respectable 36C. Cyanne chose a silver and black stretch top and then a skirt and black and gold over coat or jacket to start the photo shoot with along with a shoulder length wig in dark brown and blonde flecks. Two hours and four clothing changes later we finished the 100 photos. I don’t think I relaxed once during the entire afternoon and that was a mistake, I should have made more of an effort to enjoy it.

One of the things Cyanne and I had talked about before the makeover was the chance to go out for a drink or meal if I felt up to it, either way I intended on getting the most of the trip. I arranged with my friend to come out for tea with us, my coming out into the T-community, the first time anyone else had seen Kerry in the flesh. We had planned to go to one of the local T-clubs and have drinks and a meal with Cyanne and her partner if “She” showed up. Unfortunately the soccer team won that night and he stayed out drinking with the team. The car arrived in plenty of time and my friend greeted Cyanne who she already knew from her own sessions and t-community events around town. A quick check of lippy and hair, male clothes all packed away in the back pack and we headed for the door. Cyanne asked me if I was still good to go with all of this and although I was nervous it was also exciting. I had answered one question, what would I look like and still needed to answer the other one, what would it be like as a girl and that could only be done with other people around. We opened the front door stepped out onto the street just as another person walked by, I’m sure that I froze for a millisecond then it was across the road into the car and a short drive through early evening traffic to the club. Driving around I again wondered how many people standing on the side of the road or in the cars next to us could tell that the car full of women actually only contained one real woman. So far so good I thought as we entered the club and got signed in, not sure what name I used though. Climbing the stairs in heels was a thing I had only learnt that afternoon as my house is a single level, going down was all together a different task and I nearly fell down the stairs at Cyanne’s place during the afternoon. That would have been just right, break a leg while wearing a skirt in a far off state, maybe not so unusual for Sydney though.

We walked into the bar area upstairs, about twenty people were sitting around the bar and booths drinking and talking and as far as I could see there was only two of us t-girls in the entire place. I knew that I was being watched as I walked around to the main bar area, that made me feel quite unusual, I wanted to be seen as sexy but they were men looking at me. I followed Cyanne to a small table where we could drink and talk without being too conspicuous although the Taxi Club is well known for t-community patronage. A couple of other girls joined us with their drinks and for the next few hours we sat around had drinks, talked visited the ladies room, checked our makeup, even had a meal surrounded by dozens of people and they must have known who we were. Our waiter asked for our order by saying “have you ladies decided what you would like yet?” such a charming person. We took some photos of us at the table and then used Photoshop to remove the people behind us, just to save the guilty I guess, this photo showed Kerry having fun and obviously very relaxed. The longer we stayed the more I relaxed and started to feel comfortable with who I was but all too soon the time was over, both girls had work in the morning and I had a conference to go to. Going down the stairs in heels got easier as I watched Cyanne go first, I simply copied her.

Out in the car park I spoke with Cyanne about picking up the photos during the week and returning her clothes. Then with permission I gave her a hug and thanked her for releasing Kerry. They drove me to the hotel and let me out about 100m from the hotel front door, I repeated my good byes and headed for the hotel foyer. Walking along the street at ten o’clock on a Sunday night, the wind gently blowing around my legs and the heels clicking on the pavement, I was out in public and it made me feel so alive I wanted to keep walking but decided against it given the area. I opened the large wooden front door to the hotel, inside I could see two night attendants standing at the front desk that I had to walk directly in front of. No choice in where to go I just kept walking past them and opened my room door, I listened very carefully and heard no comments or laughter from them, I guess if you see it every day then it becomes normal.

Inside my room I was free to relax again and made a drink before turning on the TV, my body was so alive I knew I would not sleep. Slowly I unpacked my clothes and put them away, the male ones I just discarded into the wash pile. Kerry was very clearly visible and I didn’t want to lose any detail about her, I looked in the mirror at the makeup, the way the eyes had been outlined and the lips made to appear fatter. I wanted to be able to let her back out at any time in the future. I slowly got undressed and put away the clothes that I had worn for my coming out, some of them mine and some from Cyanne’s collection. The rest of the week was just as good, after each days conference I would come back change and have dinner, a glass of wine and then take some photos. Just like the country trips I had time to try things out, clothes, makeup and most of the photos showed a totally different girl to the studio shots, this one had a smile on her face and was obviously enjoying herself. The Hotel also had limited wireless connection that only worked in the lounge area, I found myself sitting on one of the lounge suites working my laptop talking to one of the night staff about my family. It was only after he had left that I realised that my shoes were off and my stockinged feet with red nail polish were folded under my body but very visible to him.

It was pure Kerry Time and packing up on the last day was especially hard, going back to limited time and freedom, compared to the freedom of the last few days. The depth of this sadness really surprised me since I saw myself as being robust emotionally and able to control myself, the tears should have shown me that more was happening on the inside than on the outside. The trip back home was normal, unpacking and hiding my clothes was done as required but the buzz of seeing Kerry out and about and the sadness at shutting her down to come home lasted a long time. The photos showed Kerry in various poses but the buzz and mental images made far more impact for much longer to come. The CD was hidden away from view and marked as backup files so no one would go looking at it. The emails back and forth to Sydney included some more photos from the club and soon Kerry had her own portfolio of snaps that showed what she looked like both dressed up and relaxing in the hotel or club or studio.

A few weeks later Cyanne emailed me about a makeup demo in our home town she would be giving at the local cross dresser support group and asked me to lend a hand with some technology and possible modelling. A task I jumped at and started planning my outfit, I wanted a basic brown jeans, white opened toe strappy sandals and a white rolled neck jumper, after a small bout of shopping on e-bay I was ready to do the show. It was a Saturday afternoon and I had a new outfit just for the show, I had decided to have a weekend away with the group at their annual camp and arranged to purchase a set of silicon breast forms from the organiser if she brought them along for me to try on during the makeover demo on the Saturday. I paid for the camp and asked the co-ordinator to bring the breast forms along to the camp on the next weekend, it was as if Kerry was finding new ground to walk on, a new sphere of activity, but I had no idea what was coming around the corner.

A few days later while laying in bed, before the day started, Janet told me about a dream she had overnight, basically she thought that God told her I had not told her something but if I did it would bring a blessing to me. Of course it would feel like being kicked in the guts and I would probably lose my job, but I would be blessed in the end. I was very confused, I knew I had to tell Janet, I also knew it would hurt both her and me, but God had promised a blessing. Confusion and fear raged within my head, could I survive, would Janet leave me, would it hurt her so much that she would go into depression again. She saw her dream as a “prophetic dream” and if I just denied any knowledge of what she had dreamt about it would also be denying the gift God had given her, it was me or her and I chose her.

Telling Janet about my feeling and the things I had done took over an hour and all the way through I shared my fear of losing her and the worry of being rejected. Janet consistently affirmed her love for me and the promise to stay with me and see this thing through to the end. I was surprised at her response and just kept trying to explain what transgenderism was and how it had been part of my life for so many years yet I was just finding out what it meant. We talked about how the boss would react and I thought it better not to tell them at work yet.

After a few hours I went in to work and phoned Janet during the day to see how she was handling everything, it was all okay until about 4 hours in and the reality hit home and she crashed into a heap of tears. She wanted to talk to someone and I had not thought about whom she could talk to and how I would react to others knowing about my secret. Janet phoned a friend in another state and talked through some of the fears she had, and also a friend at work that she confided in. Both people had no experience with transgenderism and could only give support and some ideas on checking the bank accounts and other activities in case of more secrets.

Over the next few days we discussed it several times and I eventually fronted up to work and told my boss about the issue and asked to stand down from major decision making areas while I sorted out the issue with Janet. I told him because there was no thought of not being supported through something that I saw as a need in my life. There was never a real thought of losing my job or being ridiculed, I expected grace and help from people that claimed to give both to those who came asking. I was asked to formally inform the board of directors since I was also a director and had responsibility for the financial area of the company. They affirmed their support for me without knowing exactly what I was going through and agreed that I should take some time to process everything. The promise of support from my fellow directors gave me confidence that things would be alright and given enough time I could return to my duties as a director.

Soon after this Janet and I went away for a couple of days, I travelled back to work every day rather than stay at home by myself. As we took time to talk through the issues and try to see where we should go it became clear that the only thing I could do was to undertake not to do anymore dressing and dispose of the gear I had accumulated. As I drove back and forth the gear was cleared out of the house and either thrown in the bin or given to the Salvo’s. After disposing of the lingerie I was physically shaking as I turned up at work. Looking back it was a mixture of shock and grief that was quickly locked away and not allowed to surface. I really wanted to show Janet what I had selected to wear; a way of proving that it wasn’t Rocky Horror Show, or drag Queen style. I was also proud of the things I had bought and how they looked together. She has never asked me about what I had apart from a quick “what sort of stuff did you buy?” and that was only to allay her fears. The CD of photos was destroyed and all picture files on the computer were deleted and even cleared from the rubbish bin. Email accounts were removed from Yahoo and all redirections cancelled. As far as anyone could see the physical presence of Kerry had been totally removed, but the brain still held the images and that would be very hard to delete.

Over the next four weeks we met with counsellors and talked through their thoughts of “My Problem or My Sin” as they called it. They didn’t really try to ask me about how I felt instead they told me I was deceiving everyone and had lied to them. Their understanding of the entire issue made everything I had read about it seem like lies and false teachings. The confusion in my mind was even greater than when I started the search for the Holy Grail, and it only made me more compliant with their requests for full confession and repentance in front of the leadership and then the entire church community. Being a people pleaser and trying really hard to get back into the good books I agreed to everything they asked of me. I did everything that was requested of me or should I say demanded of me since that is how it appeared to me, they had the control and I was now a puppet in their hands.

Over the next few months I attended counselling away from work at my own expense and tried to make an effort to do all the normal things while inside I was crying in pain. It wasn’t so much the pain of being caught out but rather the pain of losing a friend that I felt was part of me without any chance of getting her back. They required me to attend ten weekly sessions before making any decisions. It became clear that nothing would be tolerated, hair, nails, discussion, it was all too hard and I was constantly reminded about the deceit that I had inflicted on others and the lack of trust they now had in me. After four months I was sacked from work, of course it was not related to Kerry, but they could never tell me what it was related to either. It was cold, harsh and immediate with no compensation or warning, totally against the laws of the land and our operations manual. For the next twelve months we made attempts to find answers and at every step it was met with more accusations and no answers. It seemed that the remaining directors had decided it was too hard to agree to their promise of standing beside me and it was now easier to just get rid of me.

All the time this was happening, I attended counselling and worked through the pain of my past and learnt how to react differently. On rare occasions the topic would come up at home and I would try to get my point across but it always seemed to end in tears. Even here the stereo type transvestite was ugly and filthy with no redeeming features and how could it fit in with our belief system. The effort it was taking was just too much and over the months it became easier to not mention it, but the pain never went away it just grew. As we found other activities to fill our lives the people that had been part of our previous way of life faded away and stopped calling us. After 12 months only two people still remained in contact and would talk or have coffee with us. Only two remained.

Looking at the whole situation at times I wished that I had kept my mouth shut, lied to Janet and kept Kerry in the closet, at least we could have had some time together. The pain of being judged without trial, condemned without cause and sent away with no option of return has been a harsh punishment to handle. We would not allow it to happen in the world but it seems it is acceptable in the church, at least it was in ours and possibly many others around the world as people with needs are pushed into a box that is designed by others to keep themselves happy and safe.

The pressure on our marriage was considerable and at times it caused so much pain that we could have just walked away from the entire scene and never return, but at other times we knew we needed answers. The impact on our physical health was also hard to handle, pain and sleep loss, trouble with recurring injuries and just a feeling of loss and depression that remained with both of us on a daily basis. Thoughts of suicide came frequently along with depression and anger at being treated like worthless rags, discarded rather than cleaned, torn rather than repaired.