I have come to the realization that I am living as Tiffanie vicariously through facebook, this blog and and a couple other places ... I have also come to the realization that this is barely and decreasingly satisfying my need to be me.
It is really almost like I tried a drug ... and I'm hooked, so I need more every day ... only the drug is me. I need to find more ways to be me, it's that simple. I need to live as me, completely. I feel so free when I'm here, which is horribly ironic because I'm trapped in cyberspace just waiting to explode into the real world.
Even if I were to "come out" to the world tomorrow, it will still be a slow and tedious process at best to achieve my goal of being female ... looking feminine ... it I ever reach that goal, that is. I am not certain I will ever pass as female, but it does not mean I will not try. I feel happier the farther away from masculine that I get, but I may have to settle for some freakish looking being that is neither male nor female.
I am really not being negative here. I am just being realistic.
Every day on the way home from work I see a flock of white birds (probably doves, but not positive). The fly in this wonderful formation making an elliptical orbit around a local farm ... and every day I see this one black bird flying with the white birds. The white birds are not chasing it ... in fact it flies within the formation and does everything the white birds do, but it is painfully obvious that this bird is very different from the rest. No matter how much it flies with the others it will never be a white bird and therefore will always stand out.
I feel like the a black bird.
So ... I go to the doctor yesterday. I've been having pain in my left elbow (and my feet, ankles, knees and ...) but now the pain is radiating down my arm into my hand and the fingers are tingling.
I wear a pretty pair of dangly earrings, a woman's purple top (although relatively unisex looking), pants, nylons and walking shoes. The area on my neck where I had laser hair removal is still relatively clean and looks obviously different than the rest of my beard. I am wearing a powder scented deodorant and a little of my wife's body spray ... in other words, I am way different than the last time he saw me when I had a mustache, only wore stud earrings and so on.
My doctor is good, open minded, listens to me and likes to joke around. He didn't make a comment ... he didn't blink, make a wise crack, act surprised or anything. He treated me very well, no differently than any other visit ... but he seemed oblivious to the differences ...
In hindsight, and in fairness to him:
He warned me about a year before I started being treated for depression that I was heading in that direction, "Be careful. Apathy is one of the signs of depression and can get out of control if you don't do something now."
He has commented on my changing appearance in the past. Talking to my wife while I'm in the room, "You know why people change their appearance? It is usually because they are unhappy with their environment and since they feel powerless to change the environment they change their appearance to help cope with the situations. Although some people change because they are trying to change something about themselves."
When I was at the deepest point of my depression, "Have you considered counseling. I think you may have issues ... issues I cannot help you with at this time. You need to talk them over with somebody."
Are these (and other comments) hints that he knows? I will never know until I talk to him ... but that is scary. I have no logical reason to be scared, he will find out about me at some point along the line, I'm just scared to talk to him.