Without Any Visible Means of Support

However, I didn't want to accept that fact about myself. I was a juvenile delinquent then, a trouble maker. I swore, smoked, drank and drugged. I had a Harley-Davidson, a switchblade and an attitude, and I used all three. I was the quintessential hell- raising bad boy. And I also wanted to wear makeup and lingerie and dresses and high heels and to be soft and sweet and pretty. I'm now convinced that the tough image I projected in my youth was a reaction to those feminine feelings. I wanted to convince the world that I was a MAN, but mostly I wanted to convince myself of that fact. The most masculine caricature I could find was the one I chose to hold in front of my face when I looked in the mirror.

When I was 22, I got married to the woman I had dated fairly steadily since graduation from high school. In the years between high school and my marriage, I had dropped out of college, grown up some and joined the Navy. The most important thing that I had done, however, was to realize that the tough guy front was a quick trip to nowhere. I lost a dear friend in a car wreck because he had been driving drunk, or maybe stoned, and I almost ended up as a fatality statistic myself for the same reason. So, I dropped the dope and most of the booze, settled down and got married to clean up my life. I also thought that once I married, the "manliness" of having steady sex would remove any desires I might have to crossdress, so I figured that it was not important to tell my new bride about my past deviation. I truly believed that the crossdressing was now in my past. I was an up and coming petty officer in the submarine service, in a responsible position, had a wife whom I loved very much who loved me back, and things looked very good for our life together. Especially when on our honeymoon in New Orleans, after returning from a female impersonators floor show (her parents recommended it), she said, "I wonder how you would look as a girl." My heart leaped, and I encouraged her to find out. She made me up, fixed my hair and I put on her robe. I thought that I looked good. I said I liked the way I looked and alluded to some of my past feelings about looking feminine. She, however, did not like the way I looked. She said that the experiment had been a big mistake, she didn't want to be married to a woman, and she didn't want to hear any more about the subject. It was closed. I readily agreed, still believing my own lie: crossdressing was no longer a part of my life.

Over the next fifteen or so years, we finished college, left the Navy, moved back to our hometown, got good jobs and built a big house - all those normal steps to the American ideal. As for the marriage, we had our ups and downs, as all married couples do, but we also carried the excess baggage of my crossdressing. It hadn't gone away, of course. I could push it down and deny it for just so long, but then would renege on the promises that I had made and start to accumulate a new wardrobe in secret. The inevitable discovery of that accumulation would lead to another tearful confrontation, another round of accusations and another load of enormous guilt. I felt that these problems were MY fault. If I were "normal", our life would be perfect. If I were a "good" person, I would have told her about my crossdressing before we got married instead of founding our marriage on a lie. I truly loved my wife and did not want her to follow through on her threats to leave if I couldn't keep myself under control. So, I lied to her while I emotionally flagellated myself with guilt. I knew my crossdressing would reassert itself eventually, but I also hoped that maybe the situation would be different the next time. Maybe she would change her attitude.

And, the situation slowly has become different. As nearly as I can figure, what has happened was a two-fold process of education and maturity. But I didn't undergo that process alone and it didn't happen quickly. All along the way, my wife and I have tried to educate ourselves about transgenderism in general and about crossdressing in particular. The books we read finally convinced us that the crossdressing was never going to go away. I even went to see a psychotherapist, who told me after three sessions that there was nothing that could (or should) be done for me and that my wife was the one who needed the help in learning to cope with this aspect of our life together. That wasn't the advice she wanted to hear - there wasn't anything wrong with her. Well, I started to see that there wasn't anything wrong with me, either. I was just different. I had always fought against conformity in some fashion - being smarter or funnier or badder or bending the rules to the limit - that was acceptable to me. Now to me, crossdressing was beginning to be merely another way to be different.

Today, after over twenty-five years of marriage, my wife and I have an agreement concerning my crossdressing: she is not to be involved in it, and I am to keep her out of it and to remain anonymous. I'm not happy with that agreement, but I am happy with myself. Because I no longer feel like my crossdressing is wrong, merely another aspect of me, I can raise the issue of modifying that agreement if I think the time is appropriate. In my guilt- ridden past, I never could have done that because it would have meant spot lighting the thing that was wrong with me. Well, it isn't wrong any more. I would like to be able to look back at the past years and be able to point to some momentous occurrences that helped me get to my current level of self- acceptance. If I could do that, I could then point them out to others who are now where I was years ago and ease their transition into a better state of mind. Unfortunately, I find that there were no big things, just many hard-to-see little ones. And that brings me back to the title.

I didn't get where I am today with any visible aid and assistance from anyone else. Oh, I got a lot of help, but not any that showed. The largest support for me came from me, which is the only real source of lasting support any of us have. Several things helped in shoring up the foundation of my faith in myself. First, and maybe foremost, I found out that I wasn't alone. I had known intellectually that there were other crossdressers, but that fact took a long time to sink in emotionally, so that I truly didn't feel alone. Second, I learned to stand up for myself. I learned that my opinions and my feelings are significant; maybe only to me, but they are meaningful, nevertheless. Third, I found out that not every non-crossdresser is as turned off by CDing as my wife is. Because of various circumstances, I told a close friend about my crossdressing. Her response was basically "So what?" Lots of other people who now know responded in a similar manner. Fourth, I learned to both laugh at my situation and to cry at my situation, as circumstances warrant. It really is funny to see a crossdresser without a wig or padding, only halfway through his transformation. But it also can be sad when the circumstances don't allow even that partial transformation. As an outgrowth of this, I learned that it was OK for me to laugh and to cry, despite how I was dressed. Finally, I allowed myself to drop my burden of guilt. No one is sure of the causes for crossdressing. I do know that I didn't consciously make myself a crossdresser, but I can make myself a crossdresser who isn't ashamed of being one.

Being a crossdresser is part of who and what I am, just like the fact that I am a certain age and the tendency that I have to drive too fast and the millions of other facets that make up the gem of my life. I chose a feminine name that I think reflects this fact. The name listed on my birth certificate is "Benjamin", and I have answered to "Ben" all my life. With some help from a wise friend, I chose "Jami" as my feminine name because it is a part of my entire name just like crossdressing is part of my entire life. ("Ward" is one of my middle names.) So, what about VISIBLE as opposed to SUPPORT? Well, my main support is within me; therefore, it is invisible. I like to think that its effects are visible, but like my skeleton, it doesn't show. That inner strength, my emotional skeleton, can only be strengthened (or weakened) by outside influences if I allow it to be; I am the only one that can do that job. I guess one could say that I'm self- made. Ultimately, I think we all are. A support structure or safety net like Tri-Ess or a helpful and understanding spouse are good to have. They can certainly make life as a crossdresser easier, but in the end each of us has to marshal our own resources and operate without a net, all on our own without any visible means of support. We all have to stand on our own two feet; in my case, preferably in a pair of pretty high-heeled sandals.