Let me start from a more sensible point. In 1986 I first joined the Tiffany Club of New England. At that time it was in a house in a residential section of a Boston suburb. After less than a year of membership I purged all my clothing out of fear and didn't cross dress for about nine years. But in 1995 I went all out with my dressing, to the point that I sought help from a therapist. The more I cross dressed the more comfortable I felt in my female role. I became one of the leaders of TCNE, contributing wherever I could, serving on the Board, attending all the events.
All this time my wife was OK with this, even enjoyed helping me sneak back into the house without waking the children.
In 1998 I felt strongly that I was transsexual, and was diagnosed as such by my therapist. I cheated the system by buying hormones over the internet without a prescription or letter. I got hair replacement through a local office of a nationwide firm. My moods were swinging back & forth such that my family didn't know who would be walking into the door when I came home. I was hospitalized more than once for depression & bipolar disorder.
My marriage imploded in 1999, and I went to live with my girlfriend. I lost my job, my house, many dear possessions, and the woman with whom I had spent twenty-five years. But, things were looking up: I went full-time, my girlfriend and I fell in love, I got a good job with a public utility, and was able to see my wonderful children frequently. A year later, my therapist, endocrinologist, psychiatrist all gave me letters of reference for SRS [sex reassignment surgery], which took place in Winter 2001. It was a wonderful experience? A little painful, but the pain subsided.
Fast-forward two and one-half years to today. I am back in my original gender role. Why? I went into it all too fast and convinced myself of something which was not true. Don't get me wrong for a moment: I do not have any regrets. Even though I am unquestionably male on the outside, I have a vagina, which I consider a natural part of me. But, after four years full time, I did not feel comfortable in the female role. I equate the feeling to a left foot in a right shoe. I am six feet tall and I got sick & tired of the "freak" factor. You know, the double-takes and overly accommodating, nervous people. Fortunately, during that four year period I was never assaulted. I was most concerned about when I reached 60 or 70? What then?
So I changed my gender back to male. I guess that makes me a M-to-F-to-M, if labels need to be placed. This discussion was not meant to dissuade anyone, nor to provoke thought. It's merely my story and I chose to tell it to the community that helped me and supported me through my transition.
Sam