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"Welcome Home"


I began my personal journey on July 12, 1993, after "enduring" 47 years as a man. I can't begin to describe the feelings of contentment and inner peace of mind I feel at letting Elizabeth finally come out, and begin to experience the joy and happiness of her new life.

She has always been here, sometimes scampering out to go shopping with girlfriends -- and at other times living only in my mind's eye but she was always there -- a blonde hair, blue-eyed beauty, who loves deeply and cannot wait to experience all that life has to offer as a woman. She laughs and dances and likes to be the life of the party. Like other women, she is active, hates to exercise and reveals in intimacy. I have felt her when I was depressed and when I was on top of the world. She comforted me when I was sad (which was most of the time), put a smile on my face when she was happy and never once let me down because she knew she would emerge someday and live the rest of her life -- free.

I am a bright and intelligent woman, and I know better than to think my journey will be a "walk in the park." There is so much I do not know about "feeling" like a woman but I will never forget the pain and agony of being a man. I was frustrated, quick to anger, disappointed with life in general, and more than anything else, sad. The sadness was for myself and my inability or perhaps, unwillingness to choose what was best of me in terms of personal happiness and satisfaction. You know what they say... sometimes it is more "comfortable" to stay stuck than to move on and create one's own personal happiness. I lived that scenario for too many years.

Many of my former years were spent compiling to the wishes of others whether they were parents, siblings, or society and its' bigotry. I did not readily accept their demands -- only compiled with them. I wondered what was wrong with me? Didn't I have a mind of my own? Oh, most definitely, I did but the feelings I expressed were not in ways that, how shall we say, won friends and influenced people.

Like so many other transgendered people, I became aware of my feminine self at a young age. 10-years in my case. It was at that time in my life when I first discovered the "perfume sanctuary" of my mother's dressing room. It was also the first time I experienced scares and confusion I had never felt before. I dressed almost every day after school when nobody was home. I had plenty of time because my mother had her usual bridge clubs and social events which kept her away from home most afternoons. My father worked until 5 and my brothers, both older, had activities which kept them busy after school. I had no sisters. It was a blissful and exciting time for me, and in between feeling scared (that I would be discovered), I loved wearing her clothes and make-up, and parading around the house. All that changed on one fateful weekend in August, 1957. But what transpired then and for years afterwards maybe the subject for another issue.

While driving home yesterday, I heard a love song playing on the radio. Suddenly I felt a wave of sadness come over me as I listened to the words and tears came to my eyes. I couldn't shake the feeling that I felt a great amount of love for somebody. But whom? It wasn't until I begun to sing the words that I realized who that person was. The one who had always been there for me... protected me... stood by me... nurtured me. He showed me his compassionate and loved me enough to set me free. And for that, I will always love him.

My love to each of you,

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