Yesterday I did a stupid thing!

A short while ago, while visiting the Gender Metaphor On Line site I came across a posting which was entitled "Last Night I Did a Stupid Thing". My heart immediately went out to that person, for I could only wonder how close the writer's experience was to one of mine.

Some time ago, while my wife and I were in great conflict about cross dressing issues, we had a vicious argument. It didn't start out that way, but somehow it just ended up there. It was mid-afternoon on a cold wintry day, and I remember it well. With the particular issue unresolved, my wife retired to her office, and I grabbed a mickey of whiskey, took a good slug of it, put it in my jacket pocket and headed out for a walk. Every once in a while I would stop and take another swig at the bottle, keeping it hidden as best as I could. Despite the cold air it wasn't long before I was quite light headed, too much so to walk much further without attracting attention. I decided to head for home.

Facing the door, I felt an empty hopelessness. "What the hell", I thought, "I can't go in there right now."

Instead I went to the back door of the garage and quietly let myself in. I crawled into the back seat of the car and made myself as comfortable as possible. Putting the keys into the ignition switch I turned on the radio, took another swig from the bottle, and lay down to think. "How easy it would be just to turn on the engine and go to sleep," I thought. I just couldn't seem to face the transgender issue any more. After more than fifty years of struggle I had had enough.

I didn't want to die. Heavens no! But something kept pushing me in that direction, and the more I drank the more stupidly sorry I felt for myself, and the more appealing the prospect became. The car had a phone in it, and I decided to call a friend for help. Alas, I was so drunk I could hardly speak. My friend didn't recognize my voice and hung up. I tried to phone again, with no success. In my drunken state I found it impossible to dial any number, let alone that of my friend. I decided to wait just a few more minutes for her to call back, and if she didn't I would start the car and patiently wait the inevitable. I lay down and, while waiting for the phone to ring, the darkness of an alcoholic stupor overtook me. I passed out.

I awoke with a terrible pounding headache and a nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt stupid and drunk. The CD system was still softly playing and I felt miserable. Reflecting on how close I had come to committing the unthinkable I started to cry. I cried. And I cried. And at the end of it I felt a lot better. Uttering a small prayer of thanks to God I vowed to never again back away from the transgender issue. Henceforth I would face it head on.

As soon as I felt relatively sober I reentered the house, determined to face whatever issues arose as they arose. In the ensuing discussion I mentioned that I thought it time for some professional counselling. I felt a desperate need, especially after the dark door through which I had almost passed. However, my wife thought otherwise. She felt that counselling wasn't needed; not for me, not for her, and definitely not for us! I just needed to get a grip on myself and straighten up. Simple as that.

Perhaps she was right. Perhaps. Yet, in my heart of hearts I knew otherwise. Still, I felt that I needed some sort of reinforcement before pushing the issue. So I posted this short message on the Gender Metaphor web site.

Hi all,

Things are definitely NOT rosy in Samantha's corner. Yesterday I attempted to do myself in. Through a series of unfortunate, (or fortunate as the case may be), circumstances I wasn't successful. I'm not sure where I go from here.


I received a number of very inspiring and uplifting replies. The advice and encouragement these letters contain appear, to me at least, timeless; applicable to all who, today, are wrestling with transgender issues. Although I no longer allow myself dark days I find myself coming back, time and again, to these letters for inspiration. Here they are:

From Christina C

From Amanda Ryan

From Jessica

From Becky Amore

My sincere hope is that these letters will provide you with the uplifting inspiration that they have provided me.

To the writers of these letters, words fail me. I know this is not enough but, never the less, "Thank You, from the bottom of my heart. You have, truly, given me life."


Back to Samantha's Fifties page. Back