In a compelling personal narrative, follow my journey through self-discovery and transformation as I grapple with regret, identity, and the complexities of relationships. From the secrecy of cross-dressing to the allure of alcohol as an escape, my story unfolds with poignant moments of revelation and growth. Join me on a profound exploration of authenticity, acceptance, and the pursuit of true happiness as I confront the truth of being a sissy and the liberating power of embracing my authentic self.
Within a matter of weeks, following my decision to move to Reardan, I began to experience regret. I turned to cross-dressing in the privacy of my room. But this was not enough. I missed my brother and the relationship we had had as brother and sister which we did not have as brothers. At times, I could tell he was angry with me. I had decided to take something from him that was very special to him.
Late one night, fully dressed as Veronica, I knocked on his door. We formed a pact that night. He had gotten his driver’s license a few months before and also had his car. Using the trunk of his car as my ‘closet,’ we would often travel into Spokane on weekends. We did so as brother and sister. At least, we did so for a few weeks. However, he was a young male of sixteen and frankly, I had a bit crush on my brother. Our time together increasingly began to feel like dates.
For the next five years of my life, my number one priority was to keep the relationship I had with Steve secret. To do so, I spent those years living a charade of false happiness. I worked hard at school to excel and to fit in as a classmate, a male classmate. I did not break any rules and Mike was the same. We did not drink or smoke or do drugs. We just had sex. And then he enlisted and my senior year was a miserable year for me. I had one consolation. That summer, after graduation, I would be traveling to Yellowstone to work for the Yellowstone National Park Company

The Screwed Alligator
My assigned roommate already had an ice chest in our room filled with cold beer. I did not want to be rooming with a drinker so I got myself a different room after I made my position known to my employers. I was assigned to work at Fishing Bridge, a cabin resort on the north shore of Yellowstone Lake. I was a houseboy and worked with two maids to keep cabins after checkout. That is how I met Lois. In very short order, I had developed an enormous crush. For the first time in my life, I began to imagine myself as a husband with a family.
My assigned roommate already had an ice chest in our room filled with cold beer. I did not want to be rooming with a drinker so I got myself a different room after I made my position known to my employers. I was assigned to work at Fishing Bridge, a cabin resort on the north shore of Yellowstone Lake. I was a houseboy and worked with two maids to keep cabins after checkout. That is how I met Lois. In very short order, I had developed an enormous crush. For the first time in my life, I began to imagine myself as a husband with a family.
But she had a boyfriend. One night given a choice between spending the evening at a dance event being held for company employees (where I would watch Lois and Loren dancing all night) or a beach party with co-workers, I went to the beach party. That was my first night of drinking and I finished off a whole bottle of wine and mixed it with a second bottle. Not good.
Within a matter of a couple weeks, I had acquired a fake ID to purchase alcohol. At first, I drank wine but then I discovered hard drinks. I had acquired a fondness for screwdrivers. Someone mentioned that if I add Gator Ade — a thirst quencher — to the drink it would be a quicker drunk. Vodka, orange juice, and Gator Ade became my drink of choice. I called in the Screwed Alligator. If it could be said that Fishing Bridge had a ‘town drunk,’ it was me.

Alcohol: The Early Years
Back in Spokane, (our family had moved back to Spokane in the summer before my senior year), I was too young to drink legally. However, on the Monday before my 19th birthday, I started a job with KMart. That Friday was my first paycheck and my 19th birthday. I had worked fifteen hours for $1.65/hour. I for off work that night and headed to State Line, Idaho with about $25 in my pocket. For the next two years, until I turned twenty-one, I spent a lot of nights in State Line.
My life would change over the next two years. I lost my brother who died in Vietnam. Plus I met Amber who I would marry a week after I turned twenty-two after a year-long engagement. I thought I had met the woman of my dreams, that I was ready to be a husband, and that nothing was more important to me than raising a family and being a father. Two years into our marriage, Amber learned I loved wearing her clothes. I could not shake off my past or my dreams of a future life as a woman. Alcohol was my escape valve of choice to deal with my happiness.
At twenty-nine, our marriage of seven years, our sexless marriage of the last five years ended in a divorce. Nothing was going right for me and I made the first major relocation of my life and moved to Dallas. I was old enough to know the futility of pursuing life as a woman and clung to the hope that maybe in Dallas I would find myself a new life and a new future. I began a life of clubbing, frequenting the popular nightclubs of Dallas. However, in time more and more of my nights were spent in strip clubs, drinking overpriced beer and tipping girls for nothing more than a smile my way. Life does not get easier when you spend most of your money on the weekend life.

Clubbing Moves To Gay Bars
At the age of thirty-nine, I left Dallas and moved back to Spokane. I had done the same thing at age thirty-two only to return when I was thirty-four. Things had ‘gone south’ on me in Dallas, not unrelated to my drinking, and I was ready for a move. I was also ready to accept that the straight club scene in Dallas had no appeal for me. I returned to Spokane because it was time for me to accept what I wanted out of life meant going to gay bars.
This became my routine. As a drinker, I knew I could not drive. So I would book myself a room in a motel in downtown Spokane. I would travel downtown by bus with two or three bags. After checking into my motel, I would hit a convenience store and buy a half case of beer. I would then spend the next two hours getting ready for my night out and drinking beer. Sometimes I would walk to a nearby gay bar but my preference was to call a cab. On good nights out I would get a ride home (and more). Too many nights I would have to find my way home. The next morning I would pack up my bags and return home.
Most evenings I would finish off the half case before I left for the bar. Yes, twelve beers before I even hit the bars. At the bar, I had to have a beer in front of me at all times. So on those nights I got a ride home, there were times I would pass out before anything happened. It was also a challenge some mornings to get out of my room before the scheduled check-out time.
Sobriety
At the age of forty-nine, I was pulled over for driving under the influence. I was ordered to begin outpatient treatment for alcoholism. This included attending a lot of AA meetings. I did stay sober for the next fifteen months. However one day I woke up with an all too familiar certainty that as soon as I was done with treatment, I would begin drinking again. I did not want that.
Considering my options, I realized that I had to do something or I would soon be fighting the same struggles with alcohol. I got in my car and made the thirty-mile drive to speak to my caseworker. During our conversation, I told her of my gender issues. At the time, I self-identified as a transgender woman. This was a lie I was telling myself so it felt like the truth when I told her. That confession ended my struggle with alcoholism.
What Does This All Mean For My Sissy Life?
With the help of my brother, to his advantage I must add, I was able to be who I wanted for a few hours a week regularly during my sexually confused adolescence. Once he enlisted, and more significantly once we lost him, I did not have the tools nor the support I needed to navigate life as a sexually confused young adult. I found an escape from this harsh reality through drinking. And for thirty years, I drank. A different times it was in different clubs with different reasons for being there, but there was always a common thread — drinking.
When I spoke to my case worker that afternoon when I was fifty-one, I was honest with her in a way I had never been honest with anyone before. I often tell people that I lead a sober life. That is not to say that I do not still have a beer at Buffalo Wild Wings. Or that I do not get drunk in a gay bar in Olympia Washington whenever I visit Olympia. It is to say that it has been two years since I last had a beer and maybe two years — or two days — before I have another. I learned something about myself that day that kept me from spiraling into an alcoholic life again. There is validity in being honest with yourself and with others.
Twenty years have passed since that conversation. Alcohol is all but a non-factor in my life. So why is my life largely unchanged in twenty years? I feel it is because I did not tell her the truth that day. I only told her the truth as I knew it to be. And I only told her. I did not tell the others in my outpatient group. I did not share it at the AA meetings I attended. This was a breakthrough in my struggles but I kept it all to myself. I could have helped others by telling them my story. (Maybe I will help some by sharing it here.) But I kept silent.
My family all accept me as a transgender woman. I live in a small apartment building with only a relatively few neighbors and they all know to speak of me using the pronouns she and her as they know I am transgender. But here is the thing. I am not transgender. I am a sissy. I know happiness in my sober life that I did not know during the thirty years of heavy drinking. But I have placed limitations on that happiness by concealing my truth. I am a sissy. How much happier could I be if I were to fully embrace my authentic self? I want to learn the answer to that question.
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