Down the Rabbit Hole

This was written a number of years ago, early in my journey of self-discovery.  It's an insight into both the joy of expressing one's true self, and the pain of falling down the well of gender dysphoria.

-B

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The razor slides up my thigh, leaving smooth, pink skin in its wake. Behind the razor, my free hand follows, making sure there is no straggling stubble remaining on my leg. The sensation of my fingers gliding along the silky skin is exquisite, one i've denied myself for my entire adult life. Men don't do this...

Pulling the file away, i blow the dust off my thumbnail. The tip is filed straight across, as are the tips of every other finger. A soft cloth wipes them all clean, and i open the bottle of glossy topcoat. the aroma of nail polish fills the room, the scent like perfume to my senses... the only times i've ever smelled it before are when the women i've known in my life were doing their nails. Men don't do this...

Gossamer cloth slips up my calves as first one foot, then the next, step into the leg holes of the panties. My fingertips caress the thin row of lace along the waistband as i wiggle my hips and draw the panties all the way up my now hairless thighs. My eyes close, and a tear forms along the tight lid of my left eye. Men don't do this...

The pencil draws a burgundy line along the edge of my upper lip, and again, my nostrils twitch when touched with yet another forbidden aroma. The lipstick fills in the rest, and i pout - glossy, slippery, slightly sticky, and not quite tasteless, my imagination wanders... how would it feel to have other, naked lips kiss them? Men don't do this...

I don't think about it, just exist in the moment, a sense of calm infuses my soul, a sigh escapes my lips, and i smile... but...

Men don't do this. They don't. I'm a man. What's wrong with me? My body shakes as my brain assaults me with shame, scorn, and humiliation. Tears cascade down my cheeks as i wipe off the lipstick, but the taste remains on my lips... i can't hide from what i've done... i'm not supposed to do this, not supposed to feel like this, he says in my head. He tells me i'm sick, twisted, pathetic, and i believe him, curled up in a ball, crying on the bathroom floor.

Please... make him stop... make him...

"Stop baby, it's okay. He's just angry and afraid," her voice tells me. "He thinks you want to cut him out of you. He doesn't understand. It's okay... I'm here. Imagine i'm holding your hand, squeezing it. I'm not going to leave you... you're not alone."

My breath slows, the tears slowly stop. With a tissue, i wipe my face clean. The girl inside....always with me, even when she is hidden from view. Her voice - one i've never heard, except in my head, bringing me down off the ledge, saving me yet again.

All there is left is an empty, aching sadness... Why can't he just let me be?

Dream Sequence #1

Dream Sequence #1

I'm in a hotel suite, mine presumably.  Every main room wall has a mirror.  Looking in each in turn, the face that looks back isn't quite what i expect.  Almost me, but not quite.  I can't put my finger on it, but something's not right. 

Someone else follows me in.  A very tall man, 6'6" at least.  He has the presence of a law enforcement officer of some kind. I'm aware of him bothering me once before.  I don't want him here.

"You're breaking and entering."

"I'm not in very far," he answers.

"Don't care," i say.  "Get out."

He asks me, "What is your name?"

I turn toward him, annoyed. He towers over me, and i am not a small person. "I'm asking the questions. You don't scare me.  I don't give a flying fuck how big you are or what badges you carry…"

"What is your name?"

"I want to know who you are," i spit back angrily.

He looks me straight in the eye, squinting slightly. "You don't even know who you are."

There is a long pause.  I glance toward a chair. "Have a seat," i say quietly.

*Scene*

In the Dark #2

Friends lost in the dark
Placed on the wrong path since birth
I should do something

But i am lost too
No apparent place as home
A poor guide i'd be

Sight often shrouded
We seek light and clarity
To find our true selves

Thinking we're alone
Our sojourn has fits and starts
But the path is worn

We travel hoping
Welcoming arms will hold us
When we find our place

-Bobbi Jo Silver

A Little Closer to Me

Lately, i've been wanting to be able to go out as "me."  Not "him," not "her," me.  At my core, i'm Bobbi, but as i've said before, i identify almost as much male as female in my head, so really, if i'm fully presenting in either gender, it still feels like i'm wearing a costume.

Earlier this week, i went back to see my therapist.  I haven't seen her in nearly three years, but i've been having breakdowns now and then, and well... sometimes you need some help.  Before, every time i'd gone to see her, i went right from work, which meant "boy mode."  This time, i had spent the day working from home, and decided to dress the way i felt most comfortable.  Nothing over the top, just what felt like "me":  My favorite khaki capri pants over freshly-shaved legs, a periwinkle tank,  pastel chartreuse oxford shirt with periwinkle stripes, open-toe slides, and (blush) a matching coral & black lace bra/thong set.  My toes were polished (Confetti's "My Favorite Martian,") and while my ears aren't pierced, i do have a nice simple pair of chunky silver clip-ons i decided to wear.

I should note that at the moment, while my hair is considered pretty long for a guy, it's not so much for a girl, which is fine, but... part of the deal with growing my hair out involved also growing a neatly-trimmed beard so my wife wouldn't feel like her husband was disappearing in front of her eyes.  Shaving it wasn't an option, but still... this wasn't really a him/her thing anyway, right?  So beard or no beard, i slung my Fossil bag over my shoulder and off i went.

It felt wonderful being out and around, not a stitch of male clothing on, even if everything i was wearing could be thought of as somewhat androgynous... other than the bra and thong, of course. ;)  I adored being able to look down and see my metallic green toes peeking out of my slides, and the feel of the bra straps when i moved was so comforting.  I know, it must seem strange to cis-gender women that someone that doesn't need to wear a bra would want to, but it's like a validation of who i am inside.

Okay, so that was just a trip to my therapist, nothing really public.  But that gave me the courage to do something a smidgen bolder.  This morning, i went to the supermarket for some french bread, cheese, and some cream for our morning coffee.  I went wearing my sandals, bright green toes on display for all the world to see.  It was a little scary; i kept expecting someone to point and laugh, but if anyone noticed, they never said a word.

Maybe these are baby steps, but it brings me just the tiniest bit closer to going out and being truly myself without fear.

And that can only be a good thing...right?

-b

In the Dark

No one can see me
It's so alone in the dark
They don't know i'm here.

Half of Me

When we meet each day,
Who is the person you see?
It's not who i am.

Two Faces

The mirror shows two faces,
Neither one is truly me.
The mirror shows two faces,
Alternating he and she.

The mirror shows two faces,
But the real one's locked inside.
There is no mold for me to fit,
So from the world, I hide.

Quiet screaming late at night, emotions raw and stark.
Alone and hopeless, shattered shards left crying in the dark.
Perhaps I would not feel I am just one of life's disgraces,
If only once I could not see the mirror show two faces.

The mirror shows two faces,
Will I ever see just one?
Or is time to pass until i die,
My true self known by none?

The mirror shows two faces,
No solace found in faith.
A holy book my kind condemns,
With intolerance and hate.

Quiet screaming late at night, emotions raw and stark.
Alone and hopeless, shattered shards left crying in the dark.
Perhaps I would not feel I am just one of life's disgraces,
If only once I could not see the mirror show two faces.

The mirror shows two faces,
Though known by family,
Half of my self they fear to lose,
The other, fear to see.

The mirror shows two faces,
Neither one is truly me.
The mirror shows two faces,
Alternating he and she.

Quiet screaming late at night, emotions raw and stark.
Alone and hopeless, shattered shards left crying in the dark.
Perhaps I would not feel I am just one of life's disgraces,
If only once I could not see the mirror show two faces.

-Bobbi Jo Silver