I know ‘Into the Darkness’ sounds really melodramatic however it accurately describes the next phase of my life.

In my last blog post, I detailed how I had started to properly experiment with crossdressing, like so many others making use of my mother’s clothes and shoes.  Inevitably though, I outgrew her wardrobe and could not indulge my feminine side for years to come.  The last time I wore some of her clothing was also the closest I ever came to getting caught.

One day after school, I had gone into my parents’ room to get a particular dress out of the wardrobe to wear.  The dress was a soft grey satin that shimmered when it caught the light and I remember being extremely jealous of my mother when she wore it to go out one night.  Following my usual ritual, I started to slip the dress on, but it was more difficult than usual because I was now getting broader as part of my transition from childhood to adulthood. 

Suddenly, I heard the unmistakable sound of a seam popping!

I froze in absolute horror at the implications of this.  I had often heard of people’s blood running cold but had never experienced it until that moment.  It felt like my blood had turned to iced water.  Taking great care, I removed the dress and examined it.  I couldn’t spot where the stitches were that had burst, so I carefully hung the dress back up and went to my room to try and calm down.  Amongst the feelings of panic and fear of being caught were other feelings of loss and sadness because I had no idea how I would ever get to dress again. 

lt seemed I had gotten away with my crime because the daily routine went on as ever.  That is, until a couple of weeks later when my mother roared my name from hers and my Dad’s bedroom (this wasn’t unusual as she had a serious drinking problem and was a total pain in the ass).  “What?” I roared back.

Then came six words that brought back the iced water in my veins.

“Have you been wearing my clothes?”

I remember that time seemed to freeze and my brain kind of did a backflip then decided to stop working for a second.  Unable to think of anything to say, I again shouted ‘What?’ to which she repeated her challenge.  Gathering my wits, I loudly denied ever wearing her clothes and I remember hearing my Dad telling her to not be stupid and to go to bed.

My heart was hammering in my chest and it was a long time before I got to sleep that night…

And so began a period of my life that saw me trying to deny my true nature, to push it down and try to be what everyone wanted me to be.   There were a couple of times when I bought small items of makeup or pairs of tights to try and retain something of my feminine persona but the embarrassment and social stigma soon made me accept that this was my life now and I had to be a good boy.

This has already been a long post, so I will leave it there for now, but my next blog entry will cover matters of sexuality which, paired with the loss of crossdressing in my life led me to the very darkest places.

If you have ever been through something similar to what I have described, it would be great to read your experiences!

Big hugs as always,

Janie

xxx