I used to be depressed alot and angry but after I came out to my wife and have been seing a therapist I feel much better. It was like a weight was gone off my shoulders that I had never experienced before. Plus its nice noing that I dont have to hide it from someone and can talk about it a little.
I was diagnosed with mod/severe clinical depression some years ago. During that time, my dressing came to a standstill....I just didn't have the energy to do anything for a while, but after the problem resolved, my desire to dress returned.
I'm glad ou're getting treated. I hope that along with the meds, that you are receiving cognitive therapy. Meds alone can help, but its really important to learn new, positive and constructive ways of thinking and that's best achieved through therapy.
It is the exactly for me. When dressed I got so happy and calm, able to enjoy life. My wife love how any worries leave my face while enjoy the moment. In fact it isa good therapy. when I cannot fined tume for dressing, I try to buy something, the antipation for dressing it is also a relief itself.Originally Posted by Laura912
Many transgender people also experience emotional issues, and they may be related. Over have of those transgenders surveyed have attempted suicide at least once, most have taken actions which SHOULD have killed them but didn't.
It's hard to say WHY we are transgender, but there are some studies that indicate that there are physical differences, and these differences may be because even though there were XY chromosomes, the testosterone was somehow "flushed away" during the first few months of pregnancy. As a result, many of the male characteristics did not happen during development.
Transgenders often have smaller Limbic systems - which is why they are less violent, less aggressive, and are more often victims of bullies. This can lead to more physical injuries, more physical illness, such as asthma, frequent infections, or recurring physical problems - often triggered by feminine hormonal reactions to being in a threatening environment - being attacked verbally, emotionally, and physically as children.
Often, transgenders do play with girls, but around 6 years old, first or second grade, are forced to stop playing with the girls and go play with the other boys. If one considers the risks and dangers of putting feminine girl - not a tom-boy, into an environment where boys hated girls, abused the girls, and liked to make them cry, one would see quickly that the girl would be emotionally distraught. Constant fear, emotional upset, and frustration would trigger activities in the kidneys (adrenals), as well as other hormonal activity that would make her physically ill.
When it is a girl being picked on, beat up, and bloodied on a regular basis, one would do everything possible to get the girl away from the boys, and would have her play with the other girls, because that's where she would WANT to be.
However, if the child in question happens to have a penis, even if he doesn't have testes (1 in 100 boys are "inter-sexed", having small or undescended testes), they DON'T remove the boy from the threatening environment, and in fact try to FORCE him to associate with the other boys.
I remember my feelings the first times I dressed as like a girl were not those of being aroused, but rather of being totally relaxed, at peace, calm. It was almost like floating. I got similar feelings when I was helping others, especially on craft projects or other creative efforts.
When I was told that I had to stop dressing, and stop playing with girls, I went to the dirty clothes hamper to find my mom's clothes and try them on. Then, the nice feelings were there, but when combined with the fear of being discovered, led to feelings of being aroused.
Dressing was a time of peace, calm, serenity, and pleasure, but only lasted a few minutes - never more than an hour, for fear of being caught and punished.
Contrast that to the time at school, on the playground, when I was in constant fear of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse, including aggrevated assault, torture, physical injuries. If I cried, that only made things worse, and the persecution got worse. Eventually, I'd end up with asthma, and couldn't breathe. Sometimes it got so bad that by the time I got home from school, or got up the next morning, I couldn't breathe at all, and I had to go to the hospital for 2 weeks of IV Eppinephrine, Isoprel, and other massive adrenals. The drugs made it impossible to sleep, and the oxygen tent with the isoprel mist was cold, with no toys allowed, especially no radio, television, or anything that would spark or cause a fire.
I was lucky enough to end up in therapy with a psychologist - in hopes of keeping me out of the hospital longer, and keeping the visits shorter.
In 1964 - 9 years old - they knew I was transgendered, and if they could have put me in the girls dorm, they would have recommended that I move to the live-in situation. But when they tried to put me with the boys, they realized I'd be dead very quickly.
At that time, little was known about transgenders, and even though they knew I was a girls' brain in a boys body, sex changes were still mostly science fiction. It wasn't until I was 12 or 13 that I the Christine Jorgansen Story was released, and shortly after that, Myra Breckenridge, starring Raquel Welch. And even Myra was fiction.
I hated being a boy, and wanted to be a girl. The doctors knew it, but couldn't even discuss it with me. I tried to bring it up several times, and was shut down each time.
My mother knew, and my father probably knew, but just didn't want to deal with it. I often wore a teddy to bed and fell asleep in it, so I'm sure they noticed the spaghetti straps when they tucked me in - even though I was asleep. I would sometimes even tie something around my waist so that neither I or anyone else could get the lingerie off without my knowing it. Mom did once tell me to stop stealing her GOOD clothes, but she would tie the stockings or hose with runs in them very loosely - so I would know that I could keep them.
In every other way though, I had to pretend that I was a boy. I had to pretend that I was something I hated being. I had to wear clothes I hated, get haircuts I hated, and play games I hated to play. It was all a lie, and I knew it.
Every day, several times a day, and most of the night, I would pray for God to turn me into a girl. I would imagine life as a girl, and even had memories I couldn't have actually had - of being a girl, in a poodle skirt, in the 50s - in the back of a convertible, and making love, and loving it - then being strangled to death. I knew it wasn't my boyfriend killing me, but it was someone who hated me for loving him - possibly because he was black and I was a white girl.
Puberty was hell, not because of the usual hormonal and physical changes, but because I realized that it meant that I couldn't become a girl. When I realized I was different, not having testes, I hoped they would never come down, that I would grow breasts, that they would HAVE to let me live as a girl.
When they came down, and my voice started changing, and I started growing hair, I just wanted to die. I was getting beat up regularly in the shower or after, because I still had the feminine mind. The gym class was hell, and I hated it. I loved math, english, and social studies, but hated Gym and Lunch.
When I found out that I had a Bass voice, at 14 years old, I turned to drugs, booze, and tried to kill myself with overdoses about 20 times. I had prescription drugs, over the counter drugs, and recreational drugs, and I could combine them in ways that created the Jekyll / Hyde effect, but I became "Miss Hyde". I was brutally honest, flirted with women, and often very friendly - because the
Eventually, I realized that I couldn't kill myself, but I would remember just enough from the "black-outs" and hear enough from the stories the next day, to know that I wanted to keep putting Rex to sleep so that Debbie (hadn't named her yet) could come out and play.
I did find some support in the gay community when I was in high school, but I was terrified to tell them about my desire to be a woman. In fact, I just figured it was hopeless. I was 6 foot tall, weighed about 140 lbs, and although I had nice legs, I was just a skinny bass. I deliberately talked as high as I could, but when I sang in my Bass voice, it was obvious to me that I couldn't be a woman anymore.
In college, I went to an all girl's college, Loretto Heights College, which had over 800 women, and only 25 males, most of whom were gay or in relationships. I was accepted as one of the girls.
When I fell in love and got engaged, I finally hinted at my feminine desires to my fiance, and she terminated the relationship the next morning - with a note on my windshield of my car, and refused to even talk to me. I tried to kill myself at least 20 times over the next 9 months, the most dramatic being a walk where I tried to swallow a great deal of glass.
Eventually I ended up in a 12 step program, which helped me get off ALL Drugs, and face the deamons. I was luck enough to get a sponsor who didn't judge me, he just insisted that I get honest with my girl-friend and be willing to accept it if she was not OK with it.
I did tell her, and she acted like she was OK with it. We had lots of fun for a while, and I fell deeply in love with her as a result. Then, very suddenly, shortly after the wedding, she stopped being so accepting, threatened to expose me to my grandfather, and refused to have sex with me at all. When she decided she wanted a baby, she had me dress up, tied me up, gagged me, and told me she wasn't going to use a condom - and I'd better enjoy it because I would be paying for it for the next 20 years.
She did get pregnant, and I stayed in the marriage, having another child three years later, but she made it clear that she was NOT OK with it. We finally went to couple's counseling and when she realized I wasn't going to stop - started having an affair. I made her wait a year, to make sure she was OK, and was ready to kill myself by the end. I was also harassed out of a job for cross-dressing in public.
I started the transition process after the divorce - until my wife showed me a letter from a social worker stating that I should not be left alone with the kids - because of my dressing, and should be denied visitation. She was going to use it in court unless I stopped the transition.
I stopped the transition, and doubled my weight, shooting from 160 lbs to over 325 lbs, and had several minor heart attacks before finally getting checked out by a doctor.
I eventually remarried to a woman who saw pictures of me in a dress on Match.com asked me about it, and liked my answers. I had a stroke, and ended up in the hospital, barely concious, sleeping 23 hours a day. I was ready to move on, but my wife talked me into being at my daughter's wedding - so I recovered.
I started playing second life, where I created a female avatar, and had the fun of experiencing the world as a beautiful woman. Even lesbians didn't know that I wasn't a girl.
At that point, I took on losing some weight - and went from 325 lbs to 235 lbs on Weight Watchers. The prospect of being able to dress and look like a woman became more real. I started going out in public again, and considered the transition. I read books about other transsexuals who had made the transition, fiction and non-fiction. I shared my reviews of the books, along with my feelings about the books - on facebook. When my father was about to die, I went out to see him, and he told me he wanted me to be myself. I had packed some femme clothes, and wore them, he even complemented me on my outfits. I was able to scratch his back and hold his hand and take care of him. He knew I loved him, and I knew he loved me, as Rex or Debbie.
When my wife told me she couldn't accept my transition, I had to deal with the crisis all over again. All I can do is take it one day at a time. The thought of spending another 20-30 years as a man - seems like Life in Solitary with no parole - and the few outings as Debbie are like the weekly trips to the showers and exercise, that even those condemned to solitary must be given to avoid being "cruel and unusual punishment".
Thinking about spending the rest of my life trapped in a man's body, forced to live and act like a man, causes feelings of dispair, frustration, and anger. There are moments when there are strong urges to drive into a telephone pole, or take a sharp object to my carotid artery, or just tighten my necktie so tight that it pops the blood vessels in my head, causing a stroke.
I just have to keep living life one day at a time. This approach has made it possible for me to stay clean and sober for 31 years, so perhaps it can keep me living this life, making what contributions I can, serving others as best as I can, for however long I have to do so.
Last edited by DebbieL; 01-22-2012 at 12:17 AM.
Wouldn't know. My ability or inability to crossdress has never depressed me. Mater of fact I rarely ever get depressed. Guess life just too good and too short to get me depressed.
I have found that I would regularly sink into a depression for what seemed like no reason. I discussed this with my wife and after a time we agreed that I could dress whenever I wanted to. My depression levels have been much lower since this agreement. I have never been medicated for depression though with my number of suicide attempts and "self medicating" with alcohol I suppose many doctors would chose medication. I honestly feel that the depression issue may be one that is related to CDing this could be backed up by many responses in this thread. Just because you feel depressed that you can't be what you want to be should not be cause enough to do something that you would regret if you had the ability. It is always good when a depressed person medicates. Sometimes that medication is women's clothing and there is nothing wrong with that.
Love like you've never been hurt,
work like you don't need the money,
and dance as if no one is watching.
Delila
As a lifelong resident of various sites in the northeastern part of the country, getting depressed in the winter time, especially after the euphoria of Christmas and New Year's Eve has passed, is commonplace. My desire to crossdress does not diminish when I go through this seasonal depression, but my energy level to go through the process of getting my presentation ready is sub-par.
Last edited by StarrOfDelite; 01-22-2012 at 01:45 PM. Reason: grammar
My dressing is a form of stress relief in some aspects,I deal with depression if that is what I have been feeling goes away when I pet my dogs,they are accepting of me no matter how I'm dressed or how I feel.Although I do feel better when I express my femme self.But that is my way of coping,I wish you luck in your search.
Lisa.
"you are a strange species and there are many out there;shall I tell you what I find beautiful about you ,you are at your best when things are at their worst" ...[ Starman]
It may of course be a bit disturbing to sense that one is really not so firmly anchored to the gender one was born into.
Or back when we had cats: cats disdain you no matter how you are dressed or how you feel
on which aspect?
crossdressing?
being depressed?
getting medication?
[SIZE="6"]LIVING IN A REDNECK TOWN?
[/SIZE]
sadly, I have experienced all of the above, but luckily, I survived. can't say the same thing for the town.
Dressing seems to be the thing that stimulates your endorfins, and for some it's chocolate, caffein, or other hard drugs. Personally, I think that when we are down--but not out--it's OK to cheer ourselves up, and if it happens to be a new dress or something, not to worry. You are being helped by a professional so don't worry too much.
I am totally the same way. I have gained weight and am just now starting to dress again after three years of almost none. My meds might be the reason my desire to dress has diminished but it sure seems I enjoed more the last couple times I dressed.I'm also treating depression with medication, but I notice that when my depression is at it's worst, I don't feel like dressing fem, or doing much of anything for that matter. I just kind of sit around like a lump.
Yay depression
For me as more depressed I am, more I try to dress, just to forget about anything, think that I am another person and try to feel better, I dont know if I am ok, or not, but thats the way it works with me.
Actually, this is happening to me more and more...
My desire to dress increases when I´m stressed...
Dont know if this is relevant, but I do find myself dressing more in the winter months when I feel lowest - grey skies, short days.
Im not diagnosed, but I think I have some kind of seasonally afected depression, and therefore when I am more depressed, I dress more often.
That isnt to say summer his a time of no dressing, but the frequency is lower.
I also feel increased urge when cash is tight or I have a crappy day/week at work, its a good release without the aid of drugs or alcohol.
Samantha -x-
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