I think this is what I'm getting at when I talk about the period of my life, between about 30 and about 36, when I was free from any symptoms of mental illness.https://twitter.com/Chican3ry/status/1362085715451015172 …
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I was happy. I was employed (finally). I got married. (All this happened immediately after I began wearing men's clothes, but set that aside for a moment).
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But I still didn't feel *right*. I still felt I was struggling to keep something in check- a terrible force that might be unleashed at any time and destroy me. It's the best you can hope for from conversion therapy. A detante where you've successfully kept yourself at bay.
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Because that's what I was holding back- my desire to have been "born a boy" and my discomfort with the feminine shape of my body, carefully hidden under men's clothing so I didn't have to look at it so often.
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The most distressing idea in the world to me, in that period, was the idea of wearing or being given men's "style" clothing for a female body. It felt like the prison I'd escaped from had caught up with me, the idea of wearing men's clothes that fit my body more snugly.
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I didn't transition to escape mental illness, I escaped mental illness and found, to my own surprise, that I still wasn't okay with being a woman.
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End of conversation
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