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I'm posting this in the hopes that it may help someone. I've talked a little bit about the type of upbringing I had. It was not a pleasant one. When I was 18 I went thru 2 traumatic events within a day and a half of each other. After being abused my whole life and then that, I snapped. I started getting high. At first it was small stuff. Grass mainly. Then that didn't cut it. So I started doing other things. Blow, angel dust, acid, x, and many other things. I even tried molly and black tar. Both scared the ever living *expletives deleted* out of me. I never smoked black tar again, but I was stupid enough to to go skiing a couple more times. There was a guy I paired up with. We would always pool our money together to get the "good stuff". We got our money from many criminal activities. I'm not sure if I can name them here, but I'm sure you know what they are. If we didn't have the money for the good stuff we would go to the grocery store and pick up a certain item to get high. This item would send you flying for 3 days straight with just a little bit of use. The scariest part about it was the crash. You didn't come down gradually like you do with kush. Imagine an airplane flying along. It stops at one point and just drops faster than the speed of light straight down. The crash off this item could easily kill, if not physically then mentally. I've seen many people end up in mental institutions off one use of this because of the crash. There was an old house that we stayed in with a lot of other junkies. If someone was to pass me something I wasn't familiar with, or I was too high to recognize, I only had 2 questions. "How do I take it" and "How long until it kicks in". There was no power or running water. So it was lit by candle light. Candles were always stolen. Money was for drugs. I'm sure you're wondering how it was that I got clean. My friend (I swear to the Gods I don't remember his name) and I were coming down off something, and I have no idea what it was. I was strung out on the couch. He was standing up in front of me talking. All of a sudden he got this really weird look on his face. He was dead before he hit the ground. I don't think I've ever been that scared in my life, before or since. And I doubt I ever will again. Watching him die hit me like a locomotive. I quit right then and there, cold turkey. Quitting that way was a stupid idea. I didn't go to rehab, because I was scared that I would go to prison for the things I had done to get money to get high. I lived in any kind of shelter I could find that people weren't getting high in. Most of the time I was so sick I puked up everything in my stomach, and when that was all gone, I puked up the stomach acid. If I wasn't sick I was in so much physical pain I wanted to die. Just to get away from that pain. I'm not going to lie, I relapsed a few times. Just for a release from the sickness and pain. It took me almost 2 years to get clean the way I did, and I barely survived. How I survived I don't know. I lost 2 years of my life. I get bits and pieces here and there from that time, but almost nothing. That's 2 years I'll never get back. Plus the 2 years it took me to get clean. So make that 4 years. And there's no telling how many years have been taken off my life. With all the chemicals I put in my body It's very possible I may not make it to 40 and I'm 36 right now. I still have flashbacks. Here and there, my mind goes completely blank, and I'm high again, even though I haven't touched anything. Not even alcohol. For somewhere around 10 years after I got clean I was so terrified of drugs I wouldn't even take an Advil if I had a headache. I would just deal with the pain until it went away on it's own. People I knew got married, some had kids, and some passed. Yet I didn't know and missed it all because I was too damn high. I stopped existing. Where was I? I don't know, and most likely never will. And to be honest, I don't even want to. So if you're getting high, take my story so that it hits you like a brick to get yourself clean. If you aren't getting high, let this be a reminder of why to never try it. Getting high is lethal. It can and will kill you eventually. Or it may be someone you love that dies. But there will be a life lost. And it's due to your drug abuse.

Learning curve... what? Now, almost six years after I started contemplating whether I am trans, I am a woman in most ways except, perhaps, to myself. I have several very good cis women friends whom I love and love me. When we talk about my struggles they reassure me that I am clearly a woman to them. My speech, my mannerisms, certainly my clothing, all speak to the truth of me authentic gender. So what's the struggle? Why am I writing? When I get dressed to go out I always consider will the outfit look nice and appropriate, warm or cool enough, water resistant if it's rainy, that sort of thing. But when I think about wearing a dress or skirt, is it okay for me to wear such a thing, especially if it's warm and I can't wear leggings underneath. I generally don't let those worries hold me back. Appropriateness is the order of the day and after that, well, I just get dressed. Like yesterday I needed to make a run to the local big box hardware store. I had been wearing paint-spattered Levi's and an equally crappy tee shirt while working in my basement. Men go to such stores without changing all the time. But women? Not so much. It was chilly so I wore a kind-of sweater dress, black leggings, black booties, lipstick, and threw on my bright red raincoat. No one at the store commented or noticed me unless they were out of eyesight. In the store, though, I was a fish out of water, clearly a woman shopping in the tool section. How am I supposed to be when dating? I have a non-binary cis-woman girlfriend which is fun and all but I struggle waiting for her to take the initiative when it comes to most anything such as hand holding or kissing. From time to time I go ahead and make a move. Sure, that's how I was socialized. When I attend my ballet class and see myself in the mirror with the other women I can't help but see my broad(er) shoulders and height. Everyone is wonderful to me and I'm wonderful to them. And let's face it, they're no spring chickens either. Still... I guess the bottom line is that I'm only gradually knowing within my being and heart that I am a woman, plan and simple, just going about her life like any other woman. The learning curve is steep but I remain so grateful to be on it. Maybe (probably) I'll aways have some nagging doubts, worries, that sort of thing. But there it is.