A strong woman emerged from within me now, the first years.

A strong woman emerges from within.

I have been thinking about this particular subject for awhile now. I figure I am never going to run for any public office, so I have no societal reason to hide anything. I am an open book and think it is about time for me to speak out on life from my eyes and experiences. Although I may reveal some things that may upset some, it may encourage others. I will be, as I said, open, candid, supportive to all who would like to ask me a question. "Love to live, Live to love!"

My earliest memories of my transgender feelings was at the age of five. I was so jealous of what my sisters were wearing I would "borrow" them for a time out of their drawers and closets, wear them and put them back after trying them on in the privacy of my bedroom or bathroom. This was the late 1950's and no father, especially mine, would allow that kind of activity from their son. From age seven - ten I "borrowed" my older sisters panties and a dress and spent as much time in them that I could, then back into the closet and hamper they would go. My brushes with my inner feelings got me closer and closer to getting caught by age ten. I started "keeping" certain items that became my favorites, the closet became my storage for them behind my other clothes. Then it happened. I was accidently "found out" by some friends, one older boy and his brother my age. I forgot about the clothes when he started rummaging around in the closet, they teased me into putting them on. As we pushed and shoved each other all around the room, the older brother of two years became increasingly more "touchy feely" . His touches and obvious increased aggressiveness stirred something within me I had never felt before. We were boys! Right? Confused with my head spinning I would have my first sexual encounter with him later that day. Our friendships quickly disappeared, I still wonder what happened to those brothers.

Back into the closet, I endured the next couple of years attempting to be "the boy" I was supposed to be. I joined a baseball league and soon found out I was pretty talented. My father wasn't around much, except for one summer he coached my baseball tem, so my mom ran the show. I watched the clothing my two sisters were wearing and was constantly reminded of how drab I was dressed. I stayed in the closet through my parents divorce when I was twelve. With that divorce came stress, doubt and fear. At the age of thirteen, completely confused and lost, I turned to God. My heart was broken, my worst fears were coming true and I just did not know how to move forward. I met my first "true friend" at High School, she brought me to her Pastor and I accepted Christ into my heart. From that moment I felt a stirring to become the 'best I could be' in my life. This was to remain with me for the rest of my life. My Youth Group asked for volunteers to work as 'lay' youth ministers in a Coffee House, famous in the inner cities during the late 60's. I had forgiven myself of my inner thoughts, those thoughts many of you have had as well, about that person inside straining to be free. In those coffee houses I talked and laid Christ in front of them to give them another chance like I perceived would be their way to new life too. I found myself against the wall as many of them, no the majority was involved in some type of drug use. It was the time of free love and self-indulgence. I kept asking myself, how can I talk to these people if I knew nothing about what they were facing. This thought would play itself out in a couple of years. My girl friend became more than a friend, she became my girlfriend for the next two years. She stayed my friend until her death many years later, but I will talk about her later.

That, summer at age fourteen, my mother looked at me and simply told me as 'the man of the house' I was going to have to help with money. We met a friend of hers at the local golf course who was the groundskeeper. All he asked was that I work hard for him over the summer clearing out trees and brush for a new nine holes he was adding to the course. I was a small boy, even effeminate. Each day I came home with a new set of blisters on my feet from boots that were to wide, my feet are an 'A' width. Blisters on my hands from pulling brush, chopping small trees all day in the heat and humidity. Every night my mom would tend to each of my blisters and tell me it would get better the longer I worked. It was a terribly hard but rewarding summer. The lessons of hard work and persevering longer than my competition took hold in my habitual living routines. That fall, now a Sophomore, my girlfriend and I began to discover relationships as we rode on a hayride together. As I kissed her tenderly she put my hand on her coat where her breasts would have been had it not been for the heavy coat she was wearing. Stranger feelings came over me as I wasn't sure how to begin a relationship with her, my feelings disturbed me and I tried hard to have normal boy girl feelings. During the football season I was growing more interested in girls, but it was all different. I did not see the girls as the guys my age did, I wanted to be around them, quiet but ready to jump into any girl talk. I watched as some of the girls in school slipped around to the side of the building and kissed a boy as he attempted to 'cop a feel'. It was a strange feeling I would get and I would quickly look away. I was an "A' 'B' student always working hard to be closer to the top of the class. I took on Cross Country and Track running the long distances gave me time to reflect. In the spring of my Sophomore, my math teacher would run a few miles after school with me. I felt closer to him than I had ever felt with a man. I was drawn to his gentleness, kind words, encouragement and the way he looked at me.

That summer my mom accepted a new job in Dallas, I was shocked, disappointed and angry. I was having to leave behind all my girl friends and all my hopes for High School academics and sports. I enrolled at Hillcrest High School and was told I had enough credits to graduate as a 'Junior', I was re-energized. I did my very best that Junior year, this was my chance to be free and on track with who I wanted to be. In the spring of that same year, which I had laid low to avoid any trouble in the big city, my School records were re-examined and I lacked World History. OMG, this meant I had to spend one more year in this school I had come to hate immensely. Dazed, confused and even angrier I shuffled through the remainder of the year. I had left everything behind, including the girl inside of me, I thought. The end of my junior year 1970.

In June I turned sixteen and had two fulltime jobs to purchase my first car, a 1971 Ford Pinto right off the showroom floor. $1,800+ interest. I worked one position in new car make ready at a Chevrolet dealership and another at a filling station pumping gas at night, these two jobs made it possible for me to feel independent. I was a boy, no girls in my life, just guys. The crowd I fell into over the summer, admittedly, were not good for me. In my rebellion against my mother who took all my hopes and dreams away alienated me from her authority and I started smoking marijuana with my friends. One day I was working at the filling station, Pete the mechanic, began nicely teaching me how to service cars that needed oil changes and lubrication. The more I learned, the more he wanted to teach me. I didn't want to be a auto mechanic but it was my job and my persevering and hard work attitude began to get me "raises"! My first life lesson was paying off, I was a hardworking 'boy'. It was July and my jobs and friends consumed most of my time, raises at both jobs. Pete was spending more time with me teaching me about the station and how it was run from front to back. At the Chevy dealership I had an additional job given to me, running car exchanges between dealerships for customer purchases. I was very happy it seemed I was doing well in the game of life. My friends and work were all guys and I enjoyed being the center of attention. My feelings were not sexually based although many of them did turn my eye a few times.

I was working my last night of the week at the filling station when Pete asked me if I would like to hang out the next evening, movie and pizza on him. He was nice, my father's age, so I said I would see if it was ok. Instead he said he would call my mom and ask she gave her approval. I was not curious when he told her if the movie was too late then we would stay at his house and go to work with him Sunday morning. I met him at the station after my day at the dealership, he was just finishing up and said we needed to stop at his house and he was going to clean up. When we arrived at his house, he told me to get comfortable and went to the kitchen. When he came back through he handed me a drink, I did not drink, but I asked him what it was. He said just a little whiskey in seven-up as he said he would be out in a few minutes. I was nervous, alone with a drink in a strange house but I took a sip of the drink and then gulped a couple of swallows. I don't remember how long it was, it seemed like a long time, he yelled to me asking if I was doing alright. I was feeling quite giddy and laughed back at him I was good. A short time after that I started feeling woozy and tired, I put the drink on the coffee table and sat back. Lights out, what happened next would set me on the most frightening time of my life.

I hit an emotional moment and decided to post this first entry.