"Two roads parted in a wood..."
Posted: Sun Jun 28, 2009 9:45 pm
I know there have been lots of comments on purging. Almost always, we attribute the urge to purge (sorry for the rhyme) to guilt and/or a determination to stop dressing. But as the urge is building in me (and has been for several weeks), I find myself looking at this a little more critically.
I last purged about three years ago. I started dressing again about a year ago, and came onto this forum a few months later. This forum has been a wonderful chance to meet with like-minded people (and some not so like-minded), and to discuss, seriously, many aspects of dressing. I’ve made some very nice friends, and Robyn Katie in particular sometimes feels like a sister to me.
I’ve also had the chance to post and get comments on my female autobiography. This was actually the second time I’d written one. In the first, much of what had been difficult and unpleasant in my life was screened out on the assumption that things would have been much different for Erin than they were for me, and I realized that my “autobiography” was, as such, an exercise in escapism.
I therefore decided that this time, I would keep everything as close to my actual experiences as possible, except for those things that being female would have had to change. The biggest differences were my approach to school and my willingness to open up to close friends about my family problems, particularly my father’s drinking. I have found this to be an illuminating exercise.
But, at the end of the day, it is still a fantasy. And lately, I have found myself thinking more and more about what I am going to write, how I am going to write it, and why. When I am alone, I find myself dressing compulsively, buying more clothing, shoes and lingerie, and risking being discovered by staying dressed longer and being increasingly unable to hide my girl clothes.
Another complicating factor has been my situation at work, which had eased for a while but which I now realize could very well ramp up anew. I have not underdressed at work in months because I feel an instinctive need to protect Erin from this pressure, and because I’m just not comfortable being anything but all-male in this environment. This in turn increases the need to focus on Erin and her story in my off hours, squeezing out other aspects of my life.
I have also been thinking of something else, and I posted about this in another thread. How much of my dressing is a need to accept my feminine side, and how much is an inability to accept the fact that I am really a male? To put it another way, is dressing up the only way to accept my feminine qualities? Or is it just the way I first chose, like many of you, when I was too young to really understand what was happening and why I was doing it?
When I am honest with myself, I acknowledge two basic truths – 1) I truly wish I had been born a female; and 2) I wasn’t. And I know I am never going to change either of those facts. In life, we often wish for things we can’t have – to be a great athlete, or a great writer, or a great musician. I know a woman who has wanted to be a writer all her life; she’s written at least one novel that I know of, and has never gone anywhere with it. But still she goes to writers conferences and spends untold amounts of time and money chasing a dream that is never going to happen to the detriment of her family.
My son is learning-disabled, and he went through a stage where he was very unhappy because he couldn’t be many things he would have liked to have been. It took him a long time to accept himself, and I’m not sure he’s completely there even now. But at the end of the day, we have to accept who we are or we are doomed to utter misery.
For me, that means accepting my maleness, despite some distinctly feminine characteristics. Even at this late stage in my life, I still need to do this. I have had difficulty accepting other things in my life – my wife once pointed out to me that I have a hard time letting go of things that are over. As a result, I have a lot of unfinished chapters in my life.
Is Erin “over”? No, I don’t think so. Erin is woven into the fabric of my life, but like a recessive gene, she remains to a certain extent invisible. To do otherwise is to distort who and what I am. I have been trying to live two lives, and I can’t continue to do that – each life steals something from the other. It becomes worse when one of those lives – the female one – is fantasy. I just can’t do it anymore.
So, I’ve decided to purge. I probably will keep a small stash of things – a pair of heels, a couple of bra-and-panty sets, a pink chiffon top I bought this spring that I like a lot. But I will store them away in the attic (accessible only by ladder, no one ever goes up there) as a hedge against what I know is likely to happen some time in the future – the desire to dress becoming irresistible.
I will try to find some other way to express the feminine side of my personality – a more natural way. I have no intention of trying to deny my feminine side, because that is as futile as trying to live two lives.
I make no predictions as to what the future may bring. And I certainly am not suggesting that my way is the only way. I don’t even know if it’s right for me. But it feels right, so for now, it’s what I’ll do.
I guess I’m really not that kind of girl.
Good night, and God Bless.
I last purged about three years ago. I started dressing again about a year ago, and came onto this forum a few months later. This forum has been a wonderful chance to meet with like-minded people (and some not so like-minded), and to discuss, seriously, many aspects of dressing. I’ve made some very nice friends, and Robyn Katie in particular sometimes feels like a sister to me.
I’ve also had the chance to post and get comments on my female autobiography. This was actually the second time I’d written one. In the first, much of what had been difficult and unpleasant in my life was screened out on the assumption that things would have been much different for Erin than they were for me, and I realized that my “autobiography” was, as such, an exercise in escapism.
I therefore decided that this time, I would keep everything as close to my actual experiences as possible, except for those things that being female would have had to change. The biggest differences were my approach to school and my willingness to open up to close friends about my family problems, particularly my father’s drinking. I have found this to be an illuminating exercise.
But, at the end of the day, it is still a fantasy. And lately, I have found myself thinking more and more about what I am going to write, how I am going to write it, and why. When I am alone, I find myself dressing compulsively, buying more clothing, shoes and lingerie, and risking being discovered by staying dressed longer and being increasingly unable to hide my girl clothes.
Another complicating factor has been my situation at work, which had eased for a while but which I now realize could very well ramp up anew. I have not underdressed at work in months because I feel an instinctive need to protect Erin from this pressure, and because I’m just not comfortable being anything but all-male in this environment. This in turn increases the need to focus on Erin and her story in my off hours, squeezing out other aspects of my life.
I have also been thinking of something else, and I posted about this in another thread. How much of my dressing is a need to accept my feminine side, and how much is an inability to accept the fact that I am really a male? To put it another way, is dressing up the only way to accept my feminine qualities? Or is it just the way I first chose, like many of you, when I was too young to really understand what was happening and why I was doing it?
When I am honest with myself, I acknowledge two basic truths – 1) I truly wish I had been born a female; and 2) I wasn’t. And I know I am never going to change either of those facts. In life, we often wish for things we can’t have – to be a great athlete, or a great writer, or a great musician. I know a woman who has wanted to be a writer all her life; she’s written at least one novel that I know of, and has never gone anywhere with it. But still she goes to writers conferences and spends untold amounts of time and money chasing a dream that is never going to happen to the detriment of her family.
My son is learning-disabled, and he went through a stage where he was very unhappy because he couldn’t be many things he would have liked to have been. It took him a long time to accept himself, and I’m not sure he’s completely there even now. But at the end of the day, we have to accept who we are or we are doomed to utter misery.
For me, that means accepting my maleness, despite some distinctly feminine characteristics. Even at this late stage in my life, I still need to do this. I have had difficulty accepting other things in my life – my wife once pointed out to me that I have a hard time letting go of things that are over. As a result, I have a lot of unfinished chapters in my life.
Is Erin “over”? No, I don’t think so. Erin is woven into the fabric of my life, but like a recessive gene, she remains to a certain extent invisible. To do otherwise is to distort who and what I am. I have been trying to live two lives, and I can’t continue to do that – each life steals something from the other. It becomes worse when one of those lives – the female one – is fantasy. I just can’t do it anymore.
So, I’ve decided to purge. I probably will keep a small stash of things – a pair of heels, a couple of bra-and-panty sets, a pink chiffon top I bought this spring that I like a lot. But I will store them away in the attic (accessible only by ladder, no one ever goes up there) as a hedge against what I know is likely to happen some time in the future – the desire to dress becoming irresistible.
I will try to find some other way to express the feminine side of my personality – a more natural way. I have no intention of trying to deny my feminine side, because that is as futile as trying to live two lives.
I make no predictions as to what the future may bring. And I certainly am not suggesting that my way is the only way. I don’t even know if it’s right for me. But it feels right, so for now, it’s what I’ll do.
I guess I’m really not that kind of girl.
Good night, and God Bless.
ON a more serious note, first I am sorry that I was not on line when you first posted (we were moving and........) anyway, I can't say "been there done that." As I have said before, my sisters here made me realize that Virginia has always been there for me, but during a most traumatic aspect of my life several years ago, she said, 'You need me now and here I am" and we have never looked back and we love it! 