The agent which led me to step on a nail

If it is true that my crossdressing began because of the trauma of stepping on a board with a nail sticking out of it at age five, then I can extend the line of deduction farther.

Perhaps I was steered to step on the nail by bees that were angry that I caught some of them in a jar filled with gasoline. They would have known full well that my aggression would have been altered by stepping on the nail. Aggression was exactly the issue with them. I don't know if they foresaw that I would become gender identity disordered. Being centered on aggression they very well might not have.

trauma and gender identity disorder

The genders physically possess enough skeletal similarity to result in a degree of interchangeability in maintenance of the sounds of the other gender's role in adaptation. At an early age trauma has unpredictable bearing here. Deconstructing trauma is not done.

Denial of gender identity disorder persists after embracement of it. The structure of support for denial is extensive but is not logical. It marks its progress on points of ambiguity, all of which are invalidated by deeper logic.

Denial support cloaks itself in sympathy. No sympathy was extended in the travail of living the birth gender so this sympathy has ulterior motives.

Suspected cause of my turn to female as a child.

It is possible that my childhood development of transvestic fetishism, and with it gender identity disorder, has an origin in a traumatic event that dislodged me from my beginning in the male identity enough to bring on the disorder. This is something of a speculation. It involves my stepping on a board with a rusty nail sticking out that was on the border between our house lot and the prairie in back of the row of houses on Lexington Street. The origin I hypothesize here is that the incident caused me to pull back from the aggressive exploration of outside worlds typical of young males given such a large almost wild territory so ready at hand.

That being said, and acknowledging that it is entirely speculation, there would seem to be no way to avoid the consequence in gender identity disorder, and the decision I made to become trans gender will have to stand unless my female identity decides, after further review and analysis, to abandon the conversion to female.

If the incident is to blame, then there is nothing about my father that produced the disorder.

My early life with gender identity disorder.

At the beginning of my life, having for unknown reasons a potential of living like a girl and no potential for living like a boy, I didn't enter into the search for a career. Every activity was shortened because the only life work I was destined for was being a full-time housewife. This was my legacy from my mother. I was the ultimate Yale female student, there only to look for a husband and not intending to use my education in a career. My high ambition was not moderated by an integral life view and got blown up way out of proportion. I scattered my interests all over and repeatedly went off the deep end in career-like ventures, scoring some remarkable victories but none of it adding up to a basic understanding of the male contract with civilization.

Now that I acknowledge being trans gender I have to ferret through the maze of thoughts, memories, and impressions from my childhood to arrive at a logically sound female contract with civilization. The greatest puzzle at the present time is my breasts. With an x and a y chromosome my breasts are vestigal. My life with gender identity disorder provides me with a sensitivity for large breasts and no sensitivity for small. Without estrogen therapy or surgical augmentation I will have small and yearn for large, forcing me to mollify myself by wearing a large cup bra with water balloons in it. It's a bizarre solution but sure feels a lot better than living without it. My mother had large breasts and living her legacy puts me into a position of naturally looking for large breasts to be there at every turn. The water balloons provide something to bear off of in that natural expectation. I believe it is not uncommon for women to stuff their bra to get a larger appearance there, so it is not absolutely correct to say that this practice is illegitimate or dishonest.

Now that I can go about in public with the stuffed bra I can relax and wear it all day every day and get used to the feeling of satiation it gives to me. Giving satisfaction to a male partner is another part of the matter as yet not a priority.

Illinois has laws in my favor as a transgender female.

I found a document that identifies Illinois as a jurisdiction that has laws which prohibit discrimination or harrassment on the basis of gender identity or expression. To see it, click here.

Why my condition went undiagnosed

I think the reason no one ever diagnosed my condition properly is that individuals with transvestic fetishism almost all do not identify as the other gender, so this would be assumed to show that my condition is not one of GID, or gender identity disorder. I am a rare transvestic fetishist in that I have GID.

My current thinking is that now that wanting to be female is something I have to consider a part of my identity, I can relax about the fetish element of crossdressing, even not play it out anymore at all. We will see.

I'm nervous about the inevitable acceptance of men as sex partners. Although my orgasm phantasies involve basic male participation, it would seem unlikely that without surgery a real partnership with a male would be at best awkward and more probably impossible. I don't imagine actual men. Just motifs.

Over the past seven days I have had 15 orgasms, six days with two and one day with three. One of these was through imaging myself in a male role. The rest were imagining myself in a female role. The male role was had just before my first order of female clothes was delivered, about half way through the seven days.

Preparing myself for becoming a transgender female is now my primary concern, and conducting a program of twice daily orgasms seems less immediate a desire. It also becomes a serious cleanliness problem, because the consumption of my thoughts by female associations leaves no time for providing for the well-ordered tending of the accompaniments of the male anatomy to orgasm.

As a female I will have no possibility of having my own children, I am guessing.

A diagnosis for my condition.

Although I have been given various diagnoses all within the mental illness category, I now believe my diagnosis is not mental illness and the mental illness I have is completely an effect of my actual condition--transvestic fetishism.

I come to this conclusion after reading the wikipedia entry on transvestic fetishism. This is not the end of the matter. This wikipedia entry says that,

"Occurrence of transvestic fetishism is uncorrelated to occurrence of gender identity disorder.^[1] Most men who have transvestic fetishism do not have a problem with their assigned sex."

After long soul-searching I have come to the conclusion I do have gender identity disorder. I used to not exhibit it, but this was mostly because I was afraid to embrace my condition and live it as fully as I really wanted to.

Since beginning cross-dressing in my apartment--and never outside it--I have seen that I am picking up little cues at every turn to my preference for having female anatomy. This is difficult to a certain extent because the two genders have primary characteristics that are different. But the imagination, once it sets its mind, can make up for a lot of this.

I don't like the stories I have heard about sex change operation results and I don't have the money for one even if I did.

The wikipedia entry says that transvestic fetishism

"is categorized as a paraphilia in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of the American Psychiatric Association."

I'll have to look that up.

The entry also says that the condition

"causes clinically significant distress or impairment, whether socially, at work, or elsewhere."

This is the explanation for my diagnosis of various mental illnesses. The wording here is critical--"clinically significant."

Now I can tell my psychiatrist about it.