Jenny’s Journey
I could see my reflection in the window pane of the doctor's office. Somehow I had managed to bite off my lipstick, due to my nervousness. A moment later, with a fresh application of lipstick and a touch of perfume, I was ready for my appointment.
I gazed out the window and could see the trees turning from green to flaming shades of red. This is also my change of seasons, I told myself. At last! The receptionist interrupted my thoughts. "Jennifer, the doctor is ready to see you now." She led me down the hall to an office with a large over-stuffed chair.
Minutes later, I began recounting my story to the psychiatrist. She listened, probed, questioned. "I love your dress," she commented, telling me that I made a very attractive woman. "I wish I could look half as nice," she sighed, then paused. "Jennifer, when did you first begin cross-dressing?"
I thought back to the age of four when I had contracted polio. Cross-dressing was already a part of my life by then. My "sexual assignment" was somehow messed up in the womb, at least that's how I reasoned.
As we talked, I dug into my purse for a Kleenex tissue. I didn't want my mascara to run, and I hadn't planned on crying so much. "I'm making a fool of myself, aren't I?"
The doctor took my hand. "You poor dear. I don't understand why you have gone through all of this torment, but soon you'll be feeling much better." Then she began writing a prescription. "This medication must be taken just as directed," she said firmly. "You will begin to notice some physical changes in a few months' time. Be patient!"
Later, when the pharmacist handed me the bag containing my "dream-come-true" pills, my hands shook with excitement. At last my body would take on female characteristics!
Taking hormones of the opposite sex, consulting with a sex-change therapist, all of it seemed so bizarre. I was a married man, the father of two children, and an active church member. I wondered how my wife, Charlene, would react to my physical changes. Would it mean divorce? Or could we continue to live together as two women? No, that will never work, I thought in disgust.
Since my earliest memories, my closest friends had been female, and they had accepted me as one of their own. There had also been the haunting realization that having a boy had not been my parents' first choice."
I wish you were a girl to take over my beauty shop," my mother would remark. When as a six-year-old I played dress-up with little girls in the neighbourhood, my father would say teasingly, "You're a lot better looking as a girl." His careless remarks left a deep impression on me. I seldom felt loved or affirmed as a boy by my father
My relationship with him deteriorated further when I was a young teen. I had been sick with the flu, and late one night Dad came into my bedroom to check on me. He discovered me wearing make-up and a nightgown. He yanked me out of bed, beat me up and yelled over and over, "You're just a d___ homosexual!" I was so angry I wanted to kill him, and yet another side of me desperately wanted his love and affirmation. My feelings of ambivalence intensified from that day on. (Contrary to what my father thought, I was never sexually attracted to men. In fact I hated men and anything to do with manhood, but I loved being around women.)
While attending college, I met Charlene and we fell in love. Early in our relationship, I told her about my struggles with transvestism. "You don't look like a woman," she said. "I'm surprised you'd have that type of problem." I was 5'11", over 200 pounds, with broad shoulders and a masculine appearance. Both of us naively thought that marriage would solve the problem. After all, we were both Christians, so God would somehow take care of it.
But even after marriage, my secret obsession continued. I progressed into transsexualism, convinced that I had been born the wrong sex. "I am really a woman, but I'm trapped in a man's body." I began to seriously consider the possibility of sex-reassignment surgery.
Cross-dressing was my escape from stress and self-hatred. Perhaps a conflict would arise at work, and I'd feel like I had failed again. You're sure stupid, I'd think. You'll never amount to anything. On the drive home I would notice a woman in a pretty dress, and I'd begin wondering how her dress would look on me. Soon I'd be headed for a nearby mall to purchase some women's clothing, along with mascara, lipstick and perfume. Then I'd rush home or stop by a motel, and go through the process of "becoming" a woman.
Many times, dressed as a woman, I would go out for a walk or drive, perhaps even going into another mall to do some shopping as "Jennifer Elaine", my female name. I would feel a rush of excitement when clerks would call me "ma'am", and other female customers would accept me as just another woman.
Once at home or in the motel, my fantasies would peak as I stimulated myself sexually to orgasm. Eventually the whole experience would have to end, and I would be forced to resume my hated existence as a man. Feelings of shame and guilt, frustration and anger would overwhelm me. Often the new clothes would be discarded in a Salvation Army deposit box as I promised myself I would never again cross-dress.
A few days later I'd do it all over again.
Finally in an attempt to resolve my inner turmoil, I began seeing a clinical psychiatrist in order to obtain female hormones. I dreamed of having transsexual surgery and becoming a woman once and for all. I even forged a phoney divorce certificate to hide the fact that I was still married.
But during my third visit I tearfully told the doctor how scared I was about actually going through with sex reassignment. "I've noticed a few physical changes," I told her, "but I'm so afraid of the rejection I'll face. And I know I'll lose my family if I go through with it. I can't bear the thought of that!"
She stood up and crossed the room toward me. "Jennifer, I can't supply you with more hormones if you have no intention of following through with the procedure."
The drive home was a nightmare. Raging with anger, I cursed my existence. I tore at my dress, agonizing over my fate. For the rest of my life I would be forced to go through the motions of being a man, always fantasizing about what it would have been like...if only…
Back home I stepped into the shower, weeping and crying out to God for some relief. I had been a Christian for almost 30 years.
I knew that my secret life was painful not only to me, but to my Lord. As I stood there letting the water wash away my tears, a tiny ray of hope took hold in my heart. Thoughts of suicide subsided as I began to believe that God might provide a way out of my secret agony.
Later that week I made an appointment to see a Christian psychologist. While talking to him, I could sense the warmth of Christ's love and acceptance embracing me. I was determined to find a solution. If I don't get help, I had vowed inside, I will have no other choice but suicide.
That visit marked the turning point in my life. "We are only as sick as our secrets," the psychologist told me. I knew his words were true. The four decades of living a secret double life were coming to an end.
As I progressed in counseling, I came to see that I had believed many lies. God had not made a "mistake" in creating me with a male body. He had planned every aspect of my being from the beginning. "My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place; when I was woven together...your eyes saw my unformed body" (Psa. 139:15-16).
God had planned for me to become a man before I had ever been created! There was not a woman inside my body, longing to be expressed. I had become addicted to certain forms of behaviour in order to nurture that fantasy. I had chosen to abandon my manhood, one of God's good gifts to me.
Now I had to learn how to control my thinking and, with God's help, "take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ" (2 Cor. 10:5). Satan had created a stronghold of deception in my mind. With God's spiritual weapons, I had to take deliberate steps to tear down the lies and replace them with His truth.
I had to train my mind to meditate on things that were pure, admirable and true (see Phil. 4:8). I had to embrace the reality that God had made me an intelligent man. I was not dumb or stupid. I could achieve His call on my life. Through Him my weaknesses could be turned into strength (see 2 Cor. 12:9).
None of these changes came easily. Day by day, week by week, I had to submit to God and fight my way forward into new areas of healing.
I began the painful process of exposing my secret to trustworthy leaders of my church. I fully expected their rejection; instead, they reached out to me with overwhelming love, acceptance and compassion. This simple act of exposing myself defused much of the inner anguish and mental confusion. I began implementing the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, slightly adapting the principles to fit my situation. I began to write in a personal journal, opening up my "dark side" to myself and my counsellor. He was never shocked by my confessions, but rather showed me how my thoughts were irrational and self-destructive. Then he helped me replace the old, sinful thoughts with new, constructive beliefs.
God also used other Christians to encourage me. For example, my wife and I were part of a prayer group. One night a woman I didn't know began to pray over me with specific insights that could only have come from God. "The enemy has assigned a task force to hammer away continually," she said, "bringing self-condemnation to you in order to spiritually castrate you and prevent you from being fruitful. But God is giving you the strength and courage to stand up in your manhood in Him. "Discarding my secret identity was painful. At first I didn't know if I could emotionally survive without cross-dressing. Eventually I could see that abandoning that behaviour was best for my life. Daily I continued to yield my life's choices to Christ in the pursuit of personal wholeness.
Today, almost ten years later, I gaze out the window of my office and see the season once again changing its colour. The trees are again brilliant red. My own reflection in the window pane is different now. It's no longer a stylish woman, waiting for the receptionist's announcement. Now I see the man God created me to be. No longer must I be seen as Jennifer. My real identity is contained in the name I proudly answer to: to the name my parents gave me at birth."
C/O Realityresources
PO Box 12508 Lexington, KY 40583 ph (859) 388-9889
· e-mail counseline@windstream.net http://www.realityresources.com
Sam's Story
What I am about to tell you is unique. Why? It is because each one of us is different. Different in the way we live, different in our loves, our habits, our desires. My story will not be the same as yours. You might find aspects of what I tell you fascinating; there may be parts to which you can relate. Equally, parts of my story may bore you, and you will want to skip over them. Whatever your choice, I hope you can identify in something with me, understand what made me tick, and how I overcame what was the deepest depression, the highest hurdle, the widest gulf in my life. Interested?
I am almost 54. Fifty years ago, I can remember going into the large walk-in cupboard under our stairs, in our old stone cottage in Wandsworth, and looking through the rag box. This was where my mum and dad put all the old clothes. They had many uses. Some were for cleaning dad's paintbrushes, and others for cleaning the motorbike and sidecar, and other household jobs. Mum's stockings were always used for filtering the paint, as in those days, paint was lumpy and had to be sieved before it could be used. I liked the rag box. There were so many different things in there, and in the early nineteen fifties, as not many toys were available, I used to dress up and play games. I was an only child, and life was lonely. Mum often worked up town, and my dad was always out. I had to find things to amuse myself.
Something drew me closer to my mother's old clothes than my Dad's. Dad was a tough electrician. He was big, brawny and his clothes were the coarse type, suitable for his work. Mum's were finer, softer and had just the right feel about them. There was a long black slip, I used to wear around the house, and I can remember my mother telling me to take it off, as boys do not wear those things. I obeyed, but there was something that made me want to go back again and again, and put it on. I found myself dressing up in her clothes at every available opportunity. I was told not to dress up any more, so I had to resort to secrecy. When my parents were out (they were out quite a lot), I would go to the rag box, and wear anything I could of my mother's. I loved to parade around the house, and just enjoyed every moment. I had no idea why I wanted to do this; it was just the wonderful enjoyment of dressing up.
As the years went by, I progressed to going into their bedroom, and putting her clothes on whenever I had the opportunity. I made sure my parents were out, and checked that they had really gone (by looking out of the upstairs window), I would experience a wonderful tingle all over my body and was drawn to her wardrobe and drawers. Everything was too big for me (although she was tall, she was only about a size 12), and I treated myself to wearing just about everything I could. It was my little secret, and I made sure everything was folded neatly and back in place before they came home.
I loved the excitement. I hated the thought of being caught, but wanted to make sure I could be dressed up until almost the last moment. There were many times when I was almost caught, and my heart would almost fail, especially if I heard the key turn in the door downstairs and I was dressed up. On one occasion, I had to jump into bed fully clothed, as they quickly came upstairs. The panic and fear were unbearable. What would my father say, if he could see his son dressed as a girl? He was huge, with muscles to match, and would not understand. I didn't understand it myself, so I had no explanation to offer him. Another close call was when my parents came home early one night, and my mother came into my room and sat on my bed. She asked me why I was
looking in her drawers in her bedroom, and of course I denied it. She said it was unhealthy, and must stop. She knew I had been there, because she is the most fastidious of women, and all her underwear and clothes were laid out perfectly, and so I must have put something back incorrectly. I made sure I was more careful in the following months. As I grew into teenage years, the impulse never left me. I was even brave enough to tell a friend, and he wanted to see me dressed up. We arranged a time, and he came round to see me. The trouble with boys entering puberty is that they become hairy, their voices deepen, and shaving becomes a necessity. I hated all these. I did not want to shave my hairy body, so I just left it hairy; the thrill of just wearing female clothes was reward enough. My friend came round and we pretended to be boy and girlfriend, no kissing or anything like that, just talking and sitting. I asked him if he would lie on top of me, and he did, and that was all we did. That alone was enough to satisfy me.
I knew I was not homosexual, as I only liked boys when I was dressed as a girl. During school, I was one of the lads, and often in trouble. Eventually, some years later I was expelled during my Upper Sixth Year, and looking back, I think it was because I was often 'over the top' to prove to everyone how much of a lad I was.
Inside I knew differently. One of my father's business colleagues had died of cancer, and before he died had asked my father to look after his shop. It was a big rambling place full of electronic bits and pieces and millions of radio valves (remember this was the 60's), and I often used to go there on my own to make sure the place was secure. I bought some clothes, mainly underwear, and some stilettos, and a dress, and I hid them in the shop. I longed for the times when I could go down on my push bike, and check the shop over for my father. I would dress up, and walk around, click clacking in my heels, loving the sound. One day, on turning the corner into the main road, to visit the shop, I saw that the demolition men were in and had begun to knock the buildings down. I was totally crestfallen, my secret world was being
demolished, and I felt like crying. I loved the clothes I had saved for and bought, they meant the world to me, and now they were gone forever, and I had to start again. Where could I go to experience the freedom and the pleasure?
Over the following years, the deepening desire never left me. The subject, like homosexuality was taboo, and never discussed. In the boys' changing room, 'homo's' were ridiculed and despised and I joined in. Gangs of queer bashers' were organised, and many of us used to crawl around the Common looking for them, ready to do them great harm. This gained me acceptability. I even joined a Karate class, and took up weightlifting, I think, to help convince others, and also to convince me in some way, as I thought that I was a little freaky and unusual. It wasn't easy going out with my mates, and if we passed a dress shop or a woman's clothes store, my eyes were drawn to the windows, and I wanted to linger and dream.
It was a constant fight to keep my secret safe. I liked girls, and wanted to be with them, but having been brought up a boy, and having no sisters, I was unsure what to say and do. Early dates were a bit of a disaster. I tried to be macho, but I guess my feminine side came out too much, and I was neither rough nor tough enough for my early girlfriends. I preferred to go out with my close mates, as I felt comfortable with them, and I did not have to playact too much. One particular friend was always looking for deeper mischief, and we got into a lot of trouble. We both had a liking for practical jokes, and it was this that got me expelled.
I was in the top two streams at school, and my prospects were good. I wanted to go to University, and work for the British Museum as a palaeontologist (the study of fossils). However, one day I sent the whole of the second year to the Headmaster (120 boys); he had had enough of my many pranks, and I was asked to leave. I joined a financial business in the city of London, and realised I was an adult.
I could no longer dress as a girl, but wanted to become a woman. I lived at home, and could not keep any female clothes there, as my parents would have gone berserk, and would not have understood. I used to buy things and keep them in the car, or hide them in places only known to me. There was nothing sexual about my cross-dressing. It was just a natural outcome, I thought, of the real me. My mum had wanted a girl, but a boy was born. She wanted to call me Samantha, so I became Sam. The doctor told her that I would be a girl, so she believed him, and knitted me pink clothes, and the nursery was pink. I think I was a disappointment to her, but she would never admit it. I often wonder if she willed me to be a girl. Does that make any difference?
Time passed. I had met a wonderful girl, who liked my humour, and my good looks (in those days!), and although I told her a little of my secret self, she thought it was a phase, and I would grow out of it. The continent of Asia, had always held a fascination for me, and I decided to go to South Korea. She was distraught, but my mind was made up. I left in Jan 1970, and flew to Seoul. I had not reckoned on the enormous weight of loneliness, although the freedom was wonderful. I got a job in a Bank in town, and a nice flat. There was no stopping me acting out my secret life now. I could buy what I wanted and dress up whenever I could. I became braver and ventured out as far as I dared, and wandered around, mostly at night, and with a scarf over my head, as I did not have a wig. I made lots of friends at work, but kept my secret to myself, and did not disclose it to anyone. I spent eighteen months in Korea and decided I wanted to see the UK again, so I returned by boat, which took a long time, and shared a cabin with three tough Australians, so I had no chance to put on my favourite clothes!
These were very tough men, and I had to be likewise! Back in the UK, I got a job, and settled down. I married the girl I had left behind, and my desires subsided for a while, although my mind was always active, and I thought almost entirely in the feminine, and when I dreamt it was always in a female role. There were so many questions I kept asking myself. I realised I was not 'normal', but then again, I knew that other people, male and female, must have their own secrets and that most people had their own little fantasy worlds. With me, it was different, as I wanted to live out my fantasy. Each day I was faced with coping with my internal emotions, the pull of feminine desires, whilst trying to live a stable life at home and at work. This constant battle inside was draining, however over the years, I simply coped with it. Another thing that was difficult for me was the fact that women were all around me, in the train, in the street, in shops, everywhere. I would look at them, and be critical or appreciative of the way they dressed.
Little things used to trigger me. Beautifully shaped nails, open toed shoes, with stockings/tights showing, colour co-ordination and beautiful hair. I had testosterone buzzing around my body, and I had started slowly losing my hair. When I saw women with beautiful hair, I was hurt and jealous at the same time. It seemed so unfair. Women could look so lovely, so glamorous, and just enjoy being female, and I could not. It was no surprise to me that if I asked a woman if she would want to 'come-back' as a woman or a man, almost all said as a woman. Some said they would like to be a bloke for a day or two, but preferred being female. With men, it was often 25% who said they would like to try being female. I suspect there would be more, but the male stigma about anything feminine in their lives and minds would preclude them from saying so. It was just so hard being surrounded by feminine things each and every day, and all these signals homed in on me.
We had three lovely children. Two boys and a girl. The two boys I could cope with, teaching them soccer in the garden, playing games, and doing things that boys enjoyed, adventure games, and getting dirty whenever possible. I understood all this from my childhood. When our daughter was born, I panicked, as I had little idea of how to bring a girl up, and what to do with her. My wife, as a nurse, was brilliant and taught me a lot. Our daughter was a joy to us, and I loved buying her dolls and treating her, although we tried not to spoil her as she was the first girl on my side of the family for many years!
I was fearful that as she grew older and turned into woman hood, that I would not cope seeing her grow into a beautiful person (and she is!), with my own desires of wanting to be female inside me. I did not want to hurt anyone, and hoped, quietly, that my desires would fade away one day, as I grew older and hopefully wiser.
I had started my own business some time ago. It was international, and I had the opportunity to travel more. At first I simply enjoyed the travelling, and seeing new places and experiencing new sights and sounds. Then, when I was 51, and my travelling overseas increased, I had a greater desire to dress up. I had resisted for a long time, and the battle was hard and lonely. Then one day overseas whilst walking along one of the market roads, I saw a lovely green local dress. Before I knew what I was doing I had bought it. I rushed back to my room and tried it on. It was like an avalanche had hit me, and I had to buy other feminine things. I went out and bought several other things, mainly clothes and accessories. I stayed in my room for ages, dressed up and looking at myself in the mirror. It was if my true self had come out at last. This was me; I wanted to be like this all the time.
Over the next year, as I travelled more and more, I took a whole new wardrobe of clothes and accessories with me. I dressed up in my hotel rooms. I bought special make up to hide my bluebeard from a TV shop in London, and I had an expensive and beautiful wig. I loved selecting the make up, and spending time deciding what to wear, and getting it all to match or co-ordinate. I would walk around the hotels dressed up, and thought I would blend in. I did not get any quizzical looks and that encouraged me.
Back home I had started going to a beauty salon and was waxed from top to toe, The salon therapists accepted it, as society had become very liberal in its thinking and gays and TV's were openly accepted into society, and they had rights all of a sudden. I even went to the TV shop in London for make up lessons, and I would wear nice casual women's clothes there. I went up on the train, and remember proudly showing off my gold ankle bracelet. I had gone so far. So far, I could not go back, I was mesmerised and easily convinced myself that I was really female, and looked the part. Acceptability in public places meant everything to me. I was trapped inside this awful body of mine, and the woman inside was screaming to get out. I ached.
My family had seen the change. My wife hated what I had become and what I was doing. I became more adventurous. I was in my own world, and the woman inside controlled my life and my thinking. I wanted to go to TV/gay clubs to mix with others like me, so we could talk and understand each other. I needed like company. My family did not understand me; they could not realise that the person within, was the real one, why couldn't they see that? Why didn't they understand? It was so simple. The real me was about to emerge in a new role. I was planning to move out to a flat, where I could live out my new life.
They were holding me back, I even contacted someone on the web who was a TV, and I needed this new type of company. Sympathy and understanding was needed. The break away from this male lifestyle was just within my grasp. Plans were laid, and I would soon be the real person I was inside and hopefully also outside. I couldn't wait.
Before I tell you what happened next, I have to take you back to 1975. We were married in 1974, and I had lived overseas for 18 months from 1970. England was going through a difficult period and the 3-day week was on, miners and others were on strike, the unions held the country to ransom, and things looked bleak. I persuaded my young bride to emigrate with me. I told her all about the wonderful lifestyle, the sunshine and the utopian opportunities.
We left the UK in 1975. An old school friend and his wife met us, and they put us up. I had known him for years at school, but we were not close. We got on like a house on fire together now, and the four of us enjoyed each others company. Then things for my wife and me went wrong. We lost our savings in trying to buy a house. Our jobs were not what we expected. My wife was pregnant with an unplanned child.
Disaster after disaster overtook us. We did not know what to do or how to cope. My friend had spoken before to me of Christian things, and I ridiculed him. He tried to get us to his church, but I told him I wanted to improve our lives not make them worse. As our lives tumbled, and we were cast very low, he asked us again to go to his church and very reluctantly, we agreed to go. His church was one of the first in Africa where blacks, coloured, and white folk could meet and mix.
Usually they were segregated. The preacher spoke of a loving Saviour, someone who could help in the direst of circumstances, a friend forever. Someone who could forgive all the things we had done wrong and change us. It was if he was speaking just to me. I wondered if he had been planted, just to talk to me. But, as the weeks went by, I became fascinated, and wanted to hear more. Yes, I needed some relief from my present circumstances, but this man was talking about now and eternity. What was on offer from the Bible and this man Jesus Christ was incredible, and I wondered why I had not heard this before. After all I had been to church before and attended Sunday School (until I was thrown out!), so why now, why this time, why, why?
One Saturday evening, a special service was being held in town. It was called an evangelistic service and a theatre was hired as the church had grown so popular and had outgrown its building. My wife, two friends and I went along. That night the message was powerful and hit me hard. I heard of my need to turn away from all the wrong in my life, that Jesus Christ was waiting for me, ME!, to give myself to Him and that I had to repent of all my wrongdoing and to have a permanent loving relationship with the very Son of God. It was free, and for me. A call was given by the preacher and people were invited to walk down the
long aisle, and kneel at the front for prayer and a life change. The place was packed, the atmosphere was intense, there was something in that place which I could not understand, but if this was God working, then who was I to turn Him down. My body trembled, I shook, and I remember mumbling the words to my wife, I have to go down, are, are you coming? She said no, and before I knew what was happening, I had turned and was walking down the sloping aisle to the front. A man smiled at me and invited me to kneel. He prayed over me and for me. I said AMEN, as I had never meant it before. I knew that something had happened in me. I felt a change, it was not just the emotion, nor the tears, it was a freedom, a feeling, and a flush of newness. Still shaking, I went back up the aisle, and joined my wife and friends.
They hugged me, and it was one of the greatest moments of my life. Within three weeks, my wife had seen such a change in me, she too, wanted to give herself to Christ, and she did this in the new church building. It was one of the greatest moments in our life together. Within a month, we had boarded a ship bound for England. We had lost everything we had taken out with us, but had gained our Salvation. I can sense you thinking, well, if he became a Christian, and it was a life-changing experience, why did these feelings continue? All I can tell you is that if it had not for the fact that I had become a Christian, my desires would have taken over earlier, and I would have destroyed my life and marriage. There is no doubt in my mind, that I would have been divorced, lost all I held dear, in terms of my family, and would have been a lonely, desperate person. Christ held me together.
But, even as a Christian, having been a Deacon in the Church, Youth Leader, and a committed member involved with many events in the church, the devil was not far from my shoulder. He knew my Achilles heel. He knew when to attack. Why then did I succumb and buy that dress overseas? What compelled me? It was moment of weakness. The devil seized his opportunity, and I gave in. He wanted to see me fulfil those suppressed desires over the last fifty years, it all came out so quickly, just like a tidal wave, one moment- nothing, the next, a huge, mountainous flood, of pent up emotions, desires, uncontrollable emotions; the girl within, suppressed over all these years, was being born, the turmoil inside bubbled over and life became a roller-coaster.
The family were obviously concerned. They could see the changes. I had lost weight, my eyebrows were shaped, I was hairless, the tablets I was taking had produced mini-boobs and my nails were shaped and manicured, as well as other things. My wife hated it. My macho son, a tough site worker, spoke to me, with tears in his eyes, hating what I had become, and desperate to help me. My daughter loved the old me, not this new creature.
It all came to a head over a few days. My wife had spoken to my Pastor (a good friend, who knew my history), and he came round. He spoke common sense to me; he laid on the line, what I was doing to the family, what the consequences would be. All I could think about was, me, me, and me. Why did they not understand? As I spoke to him and the family in our living room, I laughed. It was not a normal laugh. It was eerie. I felt coldness come over me, I knew what it was, and afterwards they told me they heard the devil in that laugh. He had taken me over, I was addicted to my obsession, I was blind to the truth and consequences, it was me, me and me. I knew that I had to make a massive decision, either to give in to the girl within, or lose everything I had worked so hard for all these years; the battle raged and raged. I was worn out, I could not control the fight, and things greater than me were at work. Forces deeper and darker and lighter were raging back and forth over the battleground, which was my whole being, body, mind and soul.
Over the next few days, I had to face reality. My loving wife of nearly 30 years was prepared to push me out of the family home; I had to choose between her, the family and my deep desires. The surge of emotions rocked me back and forth. Something had to be done, but what? Was I brave enough to change, was it worth it, what about the hidden woman within? I loved my wife and my children, and had given them everything I could. We were very close, and they meant everything to me, but so did SHE.
The ache in my body and mind grew. My business was suffering, I had brought misery to those I loved, and the only happiness I had was knowing that the female within me, wanted release.
I had to do something, and quickly. I had only a day or so, before I had to move out, as the family could not take the huge strain any more. It was affecting their lives, in ways, I could not see nor understand. I was so self obsessed, that nothing else mattered. I called my Pastor and asked to visit him in his study. My wife and daughter came too. I told him, I had made a decision. I was ready to deny myself, and my desires, and to repent, to give back to a generous and loving God all my sin and thoughts, and to turn away from all that was holding so tightly onto me.
The Pastor gave me a very hard time. He wanted reassurance that I was not just playing for time, that I was honest, and willing. He said he would not pray with me there and then, until I had really made up my mind to change. I thought and thought. The battle raged within, fighting was taking place in my mind, things not understood were raging back and forth, I wanted to get right with God, I wanted my family back, I wanted a fresh start, but could I let HER go? I was shot to pieces, and I said, loudly; 'yes, I want to change, I must do it now, please pray for me, lay hands on me, help me now. It's now or never'.
He could see that I was processed of this thing, which only now, I realise was demonic. I knelt on the study floor, in tears, I was choking, forces were telling not to do it, to walk out; freedom as a woman awaited me, after all, I had made such progress. I fought back, I cried aloud, I repented, I rebuked what had gone on in my life. The room swayed, the battle raged fiercely, then, when he laid hands on me, I felt a release, a change.
I shuddered, my wife and daughter were in tears, and I urged the forces that were driving me to leave and for Christ to reign again, fully, and forever. I cannot remember all that happened. Who does in a battle situation? I remember the Pastor anointing me with oil, and it running down my head, and onto my clothes. The prayers subsided. I was a wreck. My story is almost at an end. All this happened 18 months ago. I left the study, and although my wife and daughter were sceptical (as they had seen the deceit in me before), I knew I was changed. Never again could I expect the trust from them that I had enjoyed before, and I have had to live with that. I gave them my suitcases of dresses, clothes, make up etc. It made them feel sick, and it was a major thing for me to do. I had to get rid of all that had held me before. They disposed of the stuff. I stopped having manicures, and cut my nails short, I grew a small beard. I threw all the tablets away, and turned away from anything that had to do with my desires.
I asked my Pastor for a verse that I could look at every day and enjoy my new freedom as a man, a father and a husband. I put a piece of paper next to my bed, with encouraging verses, which I read every morning when I got out of bed. I knew that the woman inside was dead. The power of Christ had destroyed her, and all she stood for. Eighteen months on, the devil still tries to persuade me, but he knows that I will not go down that path, as the consequences for my family would be immense. I am accountable to several people, and I am enjoying my manhood. The consequences of sin are terrible. It almost destroyed my family, and their individual lives, my business, some of my church family, my friends, and me. My personal goals would have wrecked untold number of lives. I was blind to it. How I praise and thank God for His kindness and patience with me. He has brought me back, and I am so grateful. Life has meaning, and is colourful again. My family flourish, and things are perfect all around me. I am very fortunate.
Have you had a similar experience? Did your story turn out differently to mine? I am a success because those who loved me stood by me. Those who counselled me cared and pointed me to a solution. My Father God, wanted me to get right with Him. But all in all, I had to be willing to change, and that was the hardest bit. But, once I had decided, and the battle was fought and won, nothing compared to the freedom and release from the devils grip, and the wonderful reality of enjoying life, and family again. Thank you for reading this very long story. It is my story, and very special to me. I hope it may help you too. There is always hope. If you are a Christian and have stumbled, God wants you back; relationships can be mended, the clock cannot be turned back, but you can turn back. You are the key.
'Your old sinful nature. if you keep on following it, you are lost and will perish, but if through the power of the Holy Spirit you crush it, and its evil deeds, YOU SHALL LIVE.' (Romans 8:12-13) The choice is yours. I'd encourage you to turn round, and fight hard, and YOU SHALL LIVE.
Sam
www.parakaleo.co.uk
Used with permission
There was another woman in my marriage
Jillian's story
To say that living with a transsexual does not affect other family members is naïve. It was my daughter who discovered that her father was looking into having sex change operations on the Internet. Although I knew my husband had an interest in femininity, I did not realize why this was so, but slowly over the weeks and months that followed this discovery; I witnessed the way that this controlling habit was destroying a united and loving family.
My daughter asked him many questions, and often these were not answered truthfully, though my husband believed he was open and honest, but in reality it was avoidance and deceit. She felt the need to write to him and quoted Deuteronomy 22v5, 'A woman must not wear men's clothing nor a man wear women's clothing, for the Lord, your God detested anyone who does this.' These words were dismissed as he claimed that God knew his inner being.
To remind him that in 2 Timothy 3v16 it says 'ALL scripture is God breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness' were words that failed to have any relevance in his life at that time. A situation of great concern followed. We were concerned often as to where he was going and what he was doing. The transformation of a man who was convinced he was a woman in a man's body was upsetting to all who knew his secret.
To be suddenly confronted by a man who has removed all his body hair, plucked and shaped his eyebrows, grown his nails, and was wearing female jeweler was not easy to cope with. Also learning that he was taking female hormones to reduce testosterone in his body, which helped stimulate hair growth on the scalp, and reduced facial and body hair. This had two noticeable side effects, small breasts had developed and normal physical sexual functions diminished.
He talked non-stop about this woman who had a girls name and even believed he was very attractive and could pass as a woman. He took photos of himself, which he proudly showed; we however could only see a man dressed as a woman and were frustrated that he could not see this himself. He thought that he had a female body, with a waist, and elegantly shaped legs, and refused to listen to remarks made by us to the contrary. He became obsessed with losing weight to produce a more feminine figure. He missed main meals, and was taking slimming tablets to help the weight loss.
Advice and support was obtained from a counselor specialized in talking with transsexuals and our pastor. Without their practical and prayerful support we would have not only handled the situation badly but would have probably broken down under the stress of the situation. We met frequently with these two people, and there was some hard talking at times: my husband was told that he was breaking 6 out of the 10 commandments: You shall have no other gods before me
You shall not make for yourself an idol… or worship them
(his self obsession)
Honour your father and mother (he blamed his transsexuality on his upbringing and the relationship he had with his parents)
You shall not commit adultery (the other woman in his life)
You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor... (many lies and deceit)
You shall not covet… (He wanted what he could not have)
Psalm 139 was a passage that frequently came up, in my quiet times, in church, in sermons and was explained to him for clarity of his situation as a man.
V13-16 'for you created my inmost being, you knit me in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made, your works are wonderful I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth your eyes saw my unformed body'.
He felt that God knew his own heart and desires and that God would accept him as a woman.
When my husband and I went away together I was told that he enjoyed my company but that it was a great sacrifice as he could not dress up, and I then realized that I was not first in his life, but second. There was another woman in our marriage. This decreased my own self-esteem and my personal value as a woman. His ultimate goal was to dress up and walk down the road hand in hand with me. A lesbian affair was not acceptable to me. Any intimate relations caused great mental strain for me, as he appeared to take on the role of observer. He was not able to fully participate, causing me to feel guilty and upset, as I knew that there was no ultimate satisfaction on his behalf. I could not work out whether he was taking on the role of a woman or man.
My daughter and I frequently cried especially as we were trying to hide it from other family members. My daughter felt she had no one to turn to and share this with apart from me. It was a burden she found difficult to carry. It consumed her thoughts and distracted her from her degree studies at the time. Her boyfriend knew she was upset and sad but she felt too hurt and embarrassed to discuss this with him. Her relationship with her father changed. The loving caring father she had doted on all her life had now turned into a man who lied, deceived and became totally self obsessive and completely ignored pleas to seek help and return to his old self.
The strain this caused was unbearable. My son eventually found out. He had known for weeks that we were not getting on together and thought it was some marital difficulties, but he could not understand why my daughter was not getting on well, as he knew she was the 'apple of his eye'. My husband could not accept he needed help and he could not understand why we could not accept him as a woman. It was like living with a different person, a completely changed character, who was determined to ignore the feelings of his family and go his own way. He would show me several articles he had printed out from the Internet about men who had successfully undergone surgery and their 'new' lifestyles. He could not understand that these stories only had one point of view, and did not portray the deep sadness and misery for other family members. The whole thing was a selfishness, which had consumed him.
My son, who is every inch a man, could not believe that this was his father. He took control of the situation, and prayed unceasingly for a solution or change of heart. He managed our discussions and eventually the ultimatum. The man he had always loved and respected was not recognizable. My son wanted him to leave immediately; as he could see the enormous distress it was causing the family. I wanted more time to see if he would change through our love for him, and that he would realize the dire consequences of his actions.
As a family we could not continue to live this way, the mental torment was causing us severe anguish and played on our minds night and day. Our lives were turned upside down, and I had little sleep for months, worrying about the future. He would argue with all the family, which was so unlike him, and the whole atmosphere in the home became brittle and tense. We experienced great anxiety when he traveled overseas on his own for his work. We thought that he might be arrested especially as he visited countries where Islamic laws were enforced.
We were expecting that those who find this act of his despicable might beat him up, and we thought he may be enticed into other extra marital affairs, either homosexual or lesbian relationships. His own mental health caused concern, and although he wanted more than anything near and dear to him, to follow his chosen path, he was clearly emotionally disturbed. A great battle was going on inside his mind and body. He often talked about suicide. He was depressed, was low in mood and he was very dissatisfied. He now seemed to be in a constant turmoil of wanting to be a woman but needing to live his days as a man.
My own role changed. I used to be able to rely on and receive support from him, but this was not so now. As I anticipated that he might just come home and say he was leaving, I took on the role of head of the household. He was spending so much money on himself, clothes, make-up, beauty treatments, and other accessories that I needed to make plans, open my own bank account, balance the household finances, arrange for help with some maintenance around the house and garden.
I was fortunate as I was in full employment and was able to meet most of the expenses, but there was always the thought of the uneventful costly occasion, which would cause financial anguish. I needed to plan my life on my own. The children were due to move on within the next year and I had to show that I could survive without them. They wanted to put their lives on hold to support me.
Thoughts of living on my own were not what I had anticipated at my time of life, and our house always had many people coming and going, as we had entertained a lot, and our children were part of a Youth Group, and then suddenly the thought of a quiet house seemed strange. I had many thoughts about clubs and activities that I could join. The thought of loneliness after 30 years of a happily married life seemed just too much to bear.
Through all of this I never wanted to ask my husband to leave but it was causing us all enormous emotional and physical turmoil, not knowing where he was going, what he was doing and with whom. This had been going on for many months, and after much prayerful support and discussion from our pastor we decided to give him an ultimatum, which was, that he needed to sort out his life and be the husband and father that he used to be, or if he were to continue to follow the route of being a woman he would have to leave. It was the hardest thing that I have ever had to do. He could not believe that we had issued this ultimatum.
The following day Sunday we went to church in the evening. The sermon came from Malachi chapter 3 and great emphasis was placed on v15 'guarding yourself in your spirit and do not break faith with the wife of your youth'. This sermon made a big impact and the Holy Spirit spoke to him and caused him to really think about his actions and behavior. It was if a miracle had happened, he came home said he needed to change, what he was doing was not honorable to God, and that he did not want to lose his family which he held dear to his heart.
We had 2 weeks of battling and anguish, and he clearly was in turmoil, but it did make him realize that he had a family that cared for him and wanted the best for him. He decided to stay and change, realizing that he was about to destroy everything he had worked so hard for over thirty plus years, and he has taken several measures to help himself keep to his decision.
It has not been easy. There have been temptations and hard times, but he is still working these through. Habits are not easy to kick especially when they have been all consuming and take over the whole of one's life. As we are a very close and united family we have survived this difficult period, but I feel for families that do not have this close infrastructure, as they would certainly collapse. However I am thankful, I do have my husband back, my children do have their father and we are very grateful to God, and realize that we are a fortunate family as we could have been destroyed as many others have.
The thought of what could have been leaves me cold. If he had been encouraged by others, or legislation to pursue his own way, he would have left six devastated lives in his wake. He has now come to realize that if he had taken this course of action, although he thought he would be 'free' and happy, only pain and sorrow would have followed. His business would have suffered, his circle of friends would have diminished, and his social standing would have gone.
So much built up over decades, and so easily lost, all because he thought he could be something he was not. He is very grateful we stood by him and supported him, through thick and thin. He also realizes the deep sadness he would have brought upon himself and all those he loved.
I thank God that throughout He was there, comforting me through his Word (knowing that he would never leave or forsake me Joshua, 1v5), and also having the wise and Godly men who encouraged, prayed and supported us during this ordeal.
www.parakaleo.co.uk
Walking in the Truth: Kathy Duncan
It was too painful to be rejected, and my convincing male appearance fooled everyone. So why tell? I confided only in girls I was dating, hoping they would protect my secret.
Even before entering kindergarten, I remember pretending to ride my tricycle to my imaginary girlfriend's house. But I couldn't tell anyone about her--weren't girls supposed to like boys? An even deeper secret was my strong desire to actually become a little boy myself.
Family life was dysfunctional. My dad was emotionally and verbally abusive and was detached from the family. My mom, on the other hand, was continually seeking nurturing from me. I soon learned that for her to love me, it would cost me a lot. Then my older brother sexually abused me and left me feeling that I had no one to talk to. The desire to become a boy burned even greater.
As I got older, I began to live a double life. Wherever I wasn't known as a girl, I pretended to be a guy. And if someone said, "I thought you were a girl," I would lie and say, "That's my twin sister" (or brother, depending on the circumstances). Throughout this double life I had girlfriends. It was hard to live this way, and the desire to become a man was consuming me.
I moved out of the house and began to live as a man at age 19. I initiated male-hormone therapy and was very excited. I remember thinking, "Now I'm free, now I'm complete." I changed my name to Keith. I had moved in with a family. The oldest daughter invited me to her church youth group. I wasn't interested, but at her insistence, I went. There was something there that I hungered for even though I couldn't describe it.
During one service there was an altar call. I wanted the changed life the pastor talked about, so I went forward. The next morning I woke up waiting to feel changed, but I didn't feel any different. I took the altar call again and again. Finally, the third time I said, "OK, Lord, I will do my part." This time something changed.
Eventually, someone in my church found out about my secret life. I was confronted by the leadership. Of course, I lied. The church contacted my parents. When confronted again, I told the truth. The church asked me to leave, saying, "We love you." It hurt to be rejected by those who claimed to love the Lord. And I wondered if He really did love me.
Once again, I felt I was on my own. And after that incident it seemed best that way. Even though I sought out another church and attended, I had also found alcohol. It seemed to ease the pain. I had met a guy at the gym, and we became drinking buddies. My life was now complete--alcohol, pool, and chasing women. There was no time for church now.
Throughout this time, I always had a girlfriend. I confided only in those I knew I could trust, those who would keep my secret. Then at work I met a Christian girl. We began to date, and after awhile I told her about myself. She accepted me and wanted me to go to church with her. So I did. I gave up drinking for her, but I had a new struggle--pornography. It gripped me like a drug. I finally told my girlfriend about it, but she didn't know how to help. Soon after, we broke up. I quickly fell into another relationship, but I soon saw the pattern of my father in me. I decided I couldn't be that kind of man, so I left that relationship.
I became more diligent about going to church and joined the church orchestra. One night while on my way to practice, I heard the Lord ask me loud and clear, "Will you now? Will you now?" I had nothing to lose, so I said, "Yes, Lord, I will."
From that point on, He really began to work on me. I gave up drinking and was delivered from pornography. Sermons were hitting home, and I began to make room for God everywhere. I had truly let Him enter, and He was cleaning house.
The Lord brought a married couple into my life who became my spiritual parents. They encouraged me to get involved in ministry. I soon became a men's small group leader in the junior high ministry and a men's leader in the singles ministry; I was still playing French horn in the orchestra. I finally opened up to my spiritual parents about myself. They were grieved but accepted me and stood beside myself. Meanwhile, God began sending deep conviction into my life. I remember reading in the Word that our bodies were the temple of the Holy Spirit, and I wondered, "What have I done to myself?" After reading Psalm 139, I began to cry because it spoke of how God had created me and how He had known me from the beginning.
The pastor of the church learned of my situation and confronted me. After almost 12 years, here I was again. All I knew to do was to tell the truth, so I did. "I am a woman living as a man," I confessed. At that point, God breathed His Truth into me, and I knew if I wanted the relationship with Him I so desired, then I had to become the woman He created me to be. He gave me this scripture, Isaiah 41:10: "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God, I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." I stopped the hormones after nearly 12 years and eagerly sought out help. I then met with the women's leader at Portland Fellowship, and I participated in the ten-month program there. In the beginning, I had a hard time relating and felt really out of place.
That summer I went to the 1993 Exodus national conference. I asked God to reveal how I had become deceived about becoming a man. He showed me my wrong perceptions and beliefs--that women were weak and that men hated women. I had the mind-set that since I was a woman, I was hated, and I hated myself. So I thought in order to be accepted by others, I needed to become a man. This way of thinking trapped me in a web of lies, but the truth revealed who I really was and how I had been created.
By this time, a woman had entered my life to disciple me. She was an example of how I wanted to be. For the first time I visualized what it would be like to be a woman. But my mannish appearance reminded me that this might be impossible. Then God assured me that He had even this under control. During this process, I got a job as a man. But it was hard, working as a man during the day and then going home and living as a woman.
I moved up the ladder, and the company sent me to a leadership class. While there I met a woman and became attracted to her. She asked me out, and I couldn't seem to refuse. Before I knew it, we were involved, and I was sinking fast. This relationship was feeding my hunger to be loved. Someone found me attractive and wanted to be with me. But it was difficult to walk in deception this time. I knew just enough of the truth to make it hard, but remembered enough of the lie to entice me still. I began to drink again to numb all the guilt I was feeling.
I saw myself spiraling downward quickly and realized I could die in this place. In all exasperation, I begged the Lord to intervene. Two days later I was caught by the woman who had been discipling me. That seemed to bring about a quick change. I repented, and through discipline I felt God very near.
It was June 1996, and Exodus time again. During the conference, the Lord affirmed my femininity through people and workshops. After coming home from all the affirmation, I felt disoriented at my job. Two weeks later, I went to another conference in Kentucky on healing for transgenderism. Again I came home changed and went to work feeling disoriented. I realized that once again I was leading a double life. I began to look for a job as a woman. Everything kept falling through, but I decided to quit, with or without a job. A lady I had talked to about a job knew of my situation but she had no openings.
One Sunday morning God told me to call her. She now had an opening and hired me. I began to legally change my name back to Kathy. One day after starting my new job, I was marveling about how God had changed my way of thinking. I was affirmed by God when He said to me, "You are who I created you to be, now walk in that." I continue to be amazed at how He has changed my thinking, my behavior, my belief, and most definitely my perception. "For you shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free." John 8:32.
"That is why I am suffering as I am. Yet I am not ashamed, because I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that He is able to guard what I have entrusted to Him for that day." 2 Timothy 1:12.
Copyright 1997, Kathy Grace Duncan
www.portlandfellowship.com
Used with permission
Becoming the Man God Made Me To Be
Although I grew up in a Christian home and attended Sunday School I went my own way and as a boy of 13, I began to feel same sex attractions. I acted out with older kids and then became involved with older homosexuals and bisexual men. When I was 19 I moved away from home, I encountered a man who I thought was a woman. He introduced me to other "men" like him, who befriended me. We spent lots of time together. I asked them how they got that way. So one of them introduced me to a downtown doctor, who evaluated me and gave me my first shot of estrogen so I could start looking like a woman too. At that point I became afraid. But my friends were there to help me. The doctor left me with my own estrogen and steroid pills and refills. I was on my way to becoming a woman just like my transgender friends.
As a result of the estrogen, I became physically developed as a woman, even though I was not one. As the months passed, physical changes happened. I became scared at what I saw in the mirror. Nonetheless, I was happy with what I was seeing.
Along with the physical changes, my personality changed. I became very arrogant. Even though my breasts had enlarged, I wanted more. So my transgender friends introduced me to an attractive man who owned an extremely large and beautiful house on a hill. He took me into his basement and told me to lie down on a table.
He massaged my breasts. Then he injected my breast with silicone gel and began to pump up the breast. I saw my breasts increase in size right before my eyes. He asked me to let him know when to stop. I was breathing very fast with fear. But in less than two hours it was over. I began to realize that this is commonly how transgendered men get their breasts (through unauthorized silicone injections - these practices are dangerous medically and should not be done). Sometimes they get together for what is called a "pumping party" and inject each other.
But I was pleased with my new breasts. I thought I looked attractive and was reinforced by the compliments of my transgendered circle of friends.
However, as the years went by, I became depressed. I was never able to be happy or find true love. I was in love with a guy that I thought was the best thing that had ever happened to me. But he was abusive. Despite the abuse, there was almost nothing I would not have done for him. But it was all for nothing because he left me for someone younger.
In the homosexual and transgender life, youth is very important. As a result, I was obsessed with my body and personal appearance. Acceptance by others in this lifestyle requires a good body and good looks.
In the transgendered crowd that I was a part of, the MTF (male to female transsexual), must meet certain criteria. We have to have more dominate female features; in other words, look more like a woman than she actually does. So we had to have bigger breasts, more shapely hips, flawless complexion, etc. In order to keep up, I had to buy the most expensive creams, take a regiment of hormone pills, do my makeup in the mirror for hours, etc.
It took me a long time to fix myself up and keep up with the beauty regiment, especially since I was not a woman. So although I looked better than most of the women out there, it was all a charade because I was not even a woman to begin with and it took so long for me to look like one. Going to a bar or party as a woman was hard work. The performance was an everyday lie.
But the praise from the others in my crowd of transgender friends kept me going. I was the center of attention and felt important. When younger transgendered joined us, I took more hormone estrogen pills to look more physically female, even though the increased dosage made me physically ill.
One time I saw myself from a side mirror and was frightened because I thought it was someone else. At one point, I was so depressed and lonely that I went to the public rail system wanting to be rescued, even if it meant going to jail. I carried half a gallon of whiskey and was sobbing on the public bench. It was raining that night and I urinated on myself over and over again. I was drunk. I felt sorry for myself because no one else was. After many letdowns like this, I wanted to change my life.
The road out of this lifestyle for me involved praying parents and the Lord working in my heart. I don't remember anyone reaching out to me, but I know that the Holy Spirit was working so I turned to Christ and stopped taking hormones. Slowly I began to look like the gender of my birth. I went back to calling myself by my male name, the one my parents gave me and that I had abandoned all those years when I was trying to make believe I was a female. I attended an Exodus Conference and I began to see that I was a new creature in Christ. I began to like myself and associate with people who were Christians and became involved in a local church. They loved me unconditionally and I didn't have to always look "beautiful" to be with them. After years of living in this lifestyle, change happened slowly.
Eventually, no one could tell I had been a female for all those years - except for one thing. I still had my breasts. So now I was a man with female breasts. What had once given me so much pride was now a source of agony for me. I did not have the money to pay a surgeon and hospital operating room to remove the silicone from my breasts. Of course, the procedure was not covered by insurance. I didn't know where to turn for financial assistance, because I felt no one would understand how I got into this mess and instead tell me I deserved it. But I knew God did not want me to live like this. He had made me complete in His love and He would complete me now.
I heard about PFOX, Parents and Friends of Ex-Gays & Gays, a non-profit organization that had raised funds for the reversal surgery of another former transgender. PFOX agreed to raise funds for my surgery, anesthesia, and operating room. They found a Catholic plastic surgeon to perform the operation at a reduced rate. A Christian woman financed the operation. Who would believe that people could be so kind to make such contributions for someone like me?
There was a lot of anticipation and anxiety waiting for the day of my reversal surgery. I thought that day would never arrive, and when it did, I was scared. At one point I began to think I did not deserve it.
After the surgery was over, I looked down to see the final results and I never looked down again. Now I could do the things I had always wanted: go to the gym, meet people, try on clothes without fearing that someone would walk in on me, and become more physically active. I began to experience a confidence I had never had before.
Today I am ready for the Lord to move me to another level so that He will continue to work in my life. Jesus changed both my body and soul. I have been changed to be unchangeable. Not in a million years did I ever think I would be giving this testimony. Take it from me, regardless of what you have done or who you did it with, when God is in you, your life will never be the same. Jesus Christ is the best thing that happened to me. He is more beautiful to me than any woman that I could ever try to be.
Jeremiah 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord,
plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.
Mr. Darrell Thompson
Used with permission
Finding true love and acceptance in God's Grace
No more dresses and rollers
It was a Sunday night and I was preaching at St. Jamestown Community Church where Pastor Mike Grady had invited Alice and I to speak. Mike shared that this storefront church had been a beauty salon and was now dedicated to the glory of God. The realization that I was preaching in a former beauty salon, spoke powerfully to me because of where He had brought me. The Lord impressed upon my mind Jeremiah 30: 17 But I will restore you to health and heal your wounds,' declares the LORD, 'because you are called an outcast…’ So much of my past life included fantasizing about the activities that went on in a beauty salon, from which the Lord has set me free.
I was about twenty-three when I entered my pastor's office and let him know my deepest secret, my desire to put on women's clothes. As a Christian I had a desperate desire to have peace that would last, and yet I had a secret lifestyle. All the books said I was a transvestite and there was no known cure. Even though I felt trapped, I thought there had to be an answer.
This desire to put on women's clothes grew from small thoughts as a child to a daily battle in my teens and early twenties. The habit began innocently enough when I was about eight years old: I put on my grandmother's girdle and it felt good. It wasn't the first time I had been attracted to female clothes and hairstyles though. Even as a baby, I would cry when men picked me up.
My mother and grandmother and us three boys lived in a small village until I was ten and in that village I did accept Jesus as Savior at age eight. My father worked one hundred miles away and came to visit four times a year. Yet God provided a wonderful father figure in the form of a neighboring farmer, and the three of us boys had great times with him.
Sometimes boyhood friends go beyond boyhood fun, and in this way my best friend caused me to experience sexual things that two boys were never meant to experience. Because of this abuse, I carried shame for years that turned me off from being hugged by men. I began very early to spend time fantasizing that someone would come and turn me into a girl. We attended church as a family during that period of time, and yet I kept these feelings all inside and they stayed locked within me.
As my teen years began, we moved to Toronto to be with my father, and that was great. However, at thirteen in 1967, while other boys were looking at girls, I would look at girls also but with envy “If only I were a girl and looked like that.” This thought would go over and over in my mind. At that time I started setting my hair in rollers and putting on scarves when I was alone. This, mixed with youthful urges, propelled me sexually. For me, sexuality was dressing like a girl and fulfilling the developing fantasies that flooded my mind. Seeing women in hair rollers fuelled these fantasies so much that I was driven to find pictures of them from time to time for years.
I spent hours in libraries looking for pictures of women with their hair in rollers so I could experience sexual pleasure; it was a real turn-on for me. I viewed women as perfect and beautiful, and I longed to be one. Those who knew me at the time didn't know the struggle I lived with. My best friend Don had no idea of my struggle and as we looked at soft porn movies, outwardly I would say “wow beautiful”, but inwardly I would add, “her hair and clothes look great if only I were her…” As time went on in my late teens and having money, I overcame the fear of buying women’s clothes. I would walk from store to store looking to buy something a woman would wear, in a store that was not too busy. I always followed the same pattern: I would buy an item of clothing, put it on, get excited, throw it out, and then feel guilt and shame for days. What I thought would fulfill me made me very empty inside; I felt trapped.
When I was twenty-one, my father went home to be with Jesus. Thus when my mother was away and I was alone, I had freedom to dress up as a girl. I would plan for days what to buy: wigs, dresses, hair rollers, and pantyhose. I would put everything on and feel sexual gratification, and then throw them away and experience guilt and shame. Though I had become a Christian at the age of eight years, the guilt and confusion I now felt drove me to rededicate my life to God. At times I was ok and then the urges would be triggered by a lot of things: pictures, TV commercials or some thought and I would go buy something feminine, put it on, feel sexual gratification and throw it out. This cycle continued over and over.
One day as the Lord worked on me and I had enough, after perceiving my pastor was safe to talk to, I made an appointment. It was hard, to say the least, to share my background with my pastor. Yet when I went to him, he never laughed, was shocked or ashamed. He listened and prayed for me, and time after time he said to me, "One day you will be free." Little did I know that going to my pastor was the first step in becoming free! Over time the Lord also used other ministries and people who would say, "You are the way God made you (a male), so go from there," and "The Lord wants you to get into the Word as it will make you a man again."
God moved greatly at times, but I was stubborn and would yield again and again to temptation. I would find myself thinking about women's clothes or hairstyles when I went to sleep and they would be the first thoughts on my mind in the morning. During these times of temptation, I struggled to the point that I would walk and pray on the streets all night, afraid to be alone at home, because I knew I would do something I would regret later. I would go for a week or two, but then I would yield to temptation, buy and put on something feminine. This sin in my life was the idol that would leave me feeling fearful and guilty. These thoughts and conflicting feelings made me think of suicide. It was as if the enemy was telling me, "You will never be free." However, God was there and encouraged me. At 100 Huntley Street, He spoke to me saying, "I love you the way you are." My response was, "Lord, I hate me, how can you love me?"
My pastor recommended Christian counseling, but when the first one said to me, "I've been counseling someone with your problem for seven years,” I said goodbye, left his office and sat down on the curb crying out in prayer “Lord is there hope for me?” Never during all the years of this struggle did I go out dressed outwardly as a woman. Yes I wore women’s undergarments, at times but the feelings of fear and rejection coupled with a developing masculine identity that the Lord was bringing to life stopped me from coming out dressed as a woman.
Later finding another counselor, I talked, listened, cried and learned about some of the roots. Why did I do these things and have these urges? My growing up with no father, the sexual abuse, and being surrounded by women all contributed to the development of my urges. Quitting school at fifteen only made me more mixed up because of no direction. Family financial pressure and loneliness during my teenage years led me to escape into my own fantasy world.
Counselling helped me to grow and deal with root issues (I am still dealing with some). I also looked to Christian music and authors who offered hope, and began to date in my twenties. Today I know the power of encouragement we can give another person, because of my pastor and organizations like the Full Gospel Businessmen who encouraged me not to give up. I fell from time to time, but God was there and never gave up on me. Years of confusion never go away overnight, and so it took years and years to be free.
On January 25, 1980, I met Alice and we were married two years later. I had shared all with her and felt I would be okay from then on. I wish I could say I was okay. I regret the fact that I yielded to temptation and hurt Alice many times. I lied and hid things from her, but God was there to heal. I still kept a little feminine room in my heart that I would retreat into from time to time out of pressures that I felt as a man. The Lord moved in our lives and stirred in me a desire to go to Bible College. Being very insecure, the Lord in more ways then one showed us that this was indeed His will. So in 1987 we went to Eastern Pentecostal Bible College, and graduated in 1990, when we felt led to return to Toronto to minister. Even after three years of Bible College and ten years of marriage, I still yielded to temptation sometimes, although less often, when I saw a woman in a great dress or hair rollers.
Yet the Lord was continuing to heal and change me. I found a ministry through Exodus North America, Rev. Jerry Leach of Crossover Ministries, who helped me to see that I was not alone in these struggles and freedom was real. Oh how I wished I had known about Exodus ministries sooner. Also, through accountability and reading the Word as well as other good material, I grew on the inside and further strengthened my masculine image. Alice, my wife, is so great and I am still learning to be a good husband.
In 1992, the Lord led us to ministry in the gay community. This happened through a progression of events beginning with seeing the need, and feeling called. We did not rush into this ministry but by being involved in Pentecostal churches, this led me to be ordained providing the basis for this ministry. Due to my background and despite the fact that I was never gay, I still had to deal with the fear of going into the gay community, an unfamiliar place. Around this time I learned more about Exodus and a friend named Al joined me and together we began what would become New Hope Outreach. The Lord confirmed that this is what He wanted us to do after Alice and myself sought Him in pray. One of the motivations that drives me, is the feeling of helplessness that I went through; granted not everyone feels the same way but everybody needs to hear about the Jesus that can set them free.
Today in 2004, New Hope Outreach with its mission statement “Reaching people in alternate lifestyles with the Gospel” is affiliated with The Pentecostal Assemblies of Canada and Exodus North America and we continue to reach people in gay or transgendered lifestyles with the Gospel. Our ministry is built on respecting and loving people into the Kingdom.
I have much to thank God for in 2004: freedom from the transvestite lifestyle, by His grace, His never-ending love and correction, the gift of a beautiful wife, and my restored masculinity. I'm also thankful for godly pastors, elders, counselors and friends who listened and cared, and for authors who addressed gender issues. Also, I thank the Lord for: The Pentecostal Assemblies of Canada and Exodus. I sometimes wonder where I would be today, if my pastor had turned me away or laughed. So am I all God wants me to be? No! By His grace, He is still working on me.
"I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you
and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
Jeremiah 29:11
Rev. Danny Blackwell