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Whoever Thought. . . Part 1

Whoever thought that:  as someone that struggles w/ cross dressing, transgender-related thoughts, feelings, behaviours, etc. , struggling w/ envy and contempt for the feminine mind, body, apparel, accessories, heart, character traits…  EVERYTHING (typically) considered “feminine”, would wind up in such circumstances written below??

On the 9th of july I was hit by a 72 year-old driver’s tractor-trailer while heading south on I – 75 – totaling my vehicle.  I stepped out of that vehicle on my own, with only an insignicant-looking cut on my left ankle. The next morning, I wake up to see one of my therapist – which was a blessing after being in such an incident! While I was in session with her, she came over to embrace me in a way that I cannot remember ever having experienced – I truly felt a sense of love & security in her arms – The length and the assurance I felt of its authenticity was truly, heavenly!! Then 2 weeks later to-the-day of the accident – the 23rd of july – , the same very dear therapist,  I was told she had suffered devastating injuries, that left her in a hospital bed to slowing accept her physical death after being hit by a car while riding her motorcycle to work!   That taking place 4 days prior on a friday, the 19th of July.  The next day, the 24th, both of my parents left for Florida. Later that same day, while at work, I wind up splitting both of my middle fingers on my right hand open! I was rotating tires on a vehicle, when I suddenly missed sight of the sheet metal tray on the side of the vehicle lift where both fingers were crushed between this tray and the tire… instantly causing excruciating pain!  My boss didn’t appear too interested in my injury, so I took responsibility into my own “hands”, (so to speak, lol ) and left work, went to an urgent care where I had to fill out paper work with a hand that was severely disabled to write with. While I was taken into the back to get looked at by the doctor, I felt a strange sense of safety and comfort, while at the same time, my current ability to handle pain from the stitches that the doctor was about to administer was VERY LOW!  I was SO overwhelmed by everything that the doctor could tell that I wasn’t in a place where I could handle these stitches while sitting up straight. So, he told me to lay down and to avert my eyes… the pain was excruciating!! Though there was a thankfulness for being taken care of!! As though I knew, some how – I don’t know how – that I was safe in this place!! It was enormously comforting, even though the pain of the stitching was causing me to take the pain in “A very personal way”. Meaning, that when I was poked, it was as though I was thinking about all the pain and suffering in the world, and when that needle pierced through me again, I gave out a muffled cry of pain for the pain of those in this world!

About 7 days later, about the 31st or the 1st of August, I went back to this urgent care to get the stitches removed.  I had the same doctor, and once again, I needed to lay down and avert my eyes.  The pain from the removal of the stitches was almost of a similar level of pain as that of  the application of the stitches!  He used a pair of tweezers and scissors. He used the scissors to cut the loops of the stitches and then used the tweezers to slip the stitches out of my fingers. Though it felt like he was pulling these stitches out with all of his might with the tweezers without ever cutting the loops!!!  Then after the removal, I’m heading out of the urgent care while heading back to get in the truck – even before I make it back in, I receive a text. I get in the truck first before reading. . . . . . . What I was about to read next left me in tears!!

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From an Event-to-Belief-to-Feeling-to-Behavior ~~~


When I was with my therapist last week, we were discussing how much I cleverly cover or bury my feelings, thoughts, etc, after barely acknowledging them – in other words, I wouldn’t truly acknowledge them.  And even while we were in our session, He would have to keep “taking command” to make sure that I wouldn’t deviate from this process of trying to uncover the core of the feelings or the thoughts that we were concentrating on at the time. In some form of “unwillingness” I would evade the questions that he would try to ask me about that certain something at the time… or I would answer the question with a question, or offer an opinion instead. I’d constantly ask for clarification in the question. Though the questions were usually quite simple and straight-forth. Though, I honestly was confused immensely by his questions. I believe in part because I’d look at the question and analyse the question to its core, trying to find a “deeper meaning behind the question”.  <—- Over-Intellectualizing Type  (A form of hiding from authority, adulthood, our Good and “bad” selves – used by John Townsend in his book “Hiding From Love” )

Anywho, one of the ways that my therapist gave me a way to look at and think about whenever I’d start feeling really bad, or if I would start to notice something wasn’t quite right, He referred me to the “ABCD’s of the 4 aspects of an emotion”  (At least that’s what a website I found referred to it as)

“A” : Activating Event (Any external “anything” that starts the cycle of the Emotion)

“B” : Belief (this can be a one-word statement that’s in regards to the Activating Event)

“C” : Consequential Feeling ( The feeling(s) that you experience in response to your “Belief System” bases on how you respond to the Activating event. Though the feelings are the result of the “Belief”, ( The thought(s) that you’re experiencing and the result from those )

“D” : Decisive Behavior ( a behavior that you exhibit that “gives shape” to your feeling(s)

A Thoughts/Feelings OVERLOAD!!

I don’t know about others that happen to struggle with Crossdressing, Transgenderism, Gender Confusion… or even homosexuality… well, let me make it a more open field for others:  Anyone who struggles with their identity – whether you may consider it sexual or gender or whatever…   Anywho, when anyone in the above condition, have you ever experienced a total overload of feeling, thoughts, words, imagery? To get more precise, where when you sense that you’re compelled to keep yourself accountable – to God ultimately – but you also feel compelled to expose this with someone safe and who can keep you accountable about your struggles, but. . . .  you have more thoughts, feeling, words, imagery and multiple, separate occurrence of all of the above,  that when you try to let someone else know about these things you’ve had in your head, you cannot get it out!!

 

You’re truly overloaded and you cannot even get even one single occurrence with one complete thought from your head and out of your mouth!!

 

I hope someone understood this post. I apologize for the run-on sentences.  But does anyone else understand this??  I’m truly confused about this!

 

~   Michael . . . ~

Spending 48 Hours Intimately Bonded and Content With My Saviour. . . Without Any Want/Need for Crossdressing! (Part 2)

This is apparently from the title, “part 2” of my original post. : )

It’s now a week since the “48 hours” experience I had. And since then I have been going in a downward spiral of confusion, questioning, fear, doubting of whether this is really true! I cannot even begin to mention or even describe in detail – at least for the moment all of the details. But I’ve been becoming fairly distant in my “connection” with God (at least my perceived connection). It’s been hard, to put it mildly. And the longer time goes by, it seems like it really isn’t “all it was meant to be” , or could be!

 

I believe part of my confusion is due to when things “don’t seem” like they’re in control – that situations are not predictable (Un-scary), then I believe that I have been going into my own ritual of trying to “take hold of the rope” when it seems like it’s going to fall to the ground where it will be left to be “unattended”.  . . what I’m trying to lead up to is that, I believe that I’ve been somehow trying to desperately, subconsciously, trying to keep a “lid” on a can of worms that will lead to disaster  if exposed…. in english: ) . . . I’m trying to keep my “badness”, whether truly sinful or perceived as bad, concealed AT ALL COSTS! I’m terrified of making mistakes, even when they’re “innocent”. I’m trying to live up to some ridiculous expectation of perfection! Ridiculous? Yes!! But slowing down fast enough to get that through to myself is the hardest thing. . . I don’t know. . .

I don’t know at the moment, but earlier in the week I did give into “acting out” on differing thoughts and feelings spiraling through me… and I KNEW, deep down, that THIS WAS IT. I HAD TO STAND UP and FIGHT with Jesus beside me. . . but the mere anticipation of the act was enough for me to say, “God, I’ll just do this really quick and then I’ll be right back to your side”.  LIE!!!

 

 

 

But I wonder – and this is simply pondering this in a relatively irrational state –  whether if one of the underlying reasons for my tremendous confusion and a sort of “inability” to accept God, and pick up His Word and Fight again is due to trying to suppress for SO LONG HOW truly depraved my “natural self” is – and the severity!  I think I may be caught up in a “all good, or nothing” sort of patterns – a definite cycle-producing thing!

 

 

For now I must leave, but I leave you with these lyrics from a song that really well describes what I’ve been going through. I really would like to thank Icon For Hire for their amazing song:  Get Well  

 

“We throw tantrums like parties
We’re not happy ’til everyone knows we’re sick
And that’s just how we like it
We’ve hurt bad enough, right, we’ve earned it

Don’t tell the others but it’s all getting old
I mean how many more times must our stories be told?
And being lonely’s only fun in a group
It sort of loses it’s charm when it’s true

I meant it when I said I wanna get well, I wanna get well
Are the rest of you so content
Stay where you are but it hurts like hell
And I’m sure it’s fun at first
Test your pulse and check your vitals
If it’s only a game you lost me
I quit it with the suicidal recital

So now you know all my secrets
I want out, I know I don’t need this
Can you find me friends that don’t rank me on what I’ve been through
The more battle scars the more attention it gets you

Don’t tell the others but it’s all getting old
I mean how many more times must our stories be told?
And being lonely’s only fun in a group
It sort of loses it’s charm when it’s true

I meant it when I said I wanna get well, I wanna get well
Are the rest of you so content
Stay where you are but it hurts like hell
And I’m sure it’s fun at first
Test your pulse and check your vitals
If it’s only a game you lost me
I quit it with the suicidal recital

Yeah we should’ve known it would end this way
What did you expect, pretend it all away
And all we’ve got left is a sorry pile of hearts
I’m getting out, gonna write myself a new start
Come on, dry your eyes, meet me on the other side
Run as fast as you can and we’ll make it out alive
We know better now, we don’t have to live like this
Go tell them all we don’t have to live like this

I meant it when I said I wanna get well

I meant it when I said I wanna get well, I wanna get well
Are the rest of you so content
Stay where you are but it hurts like hell
And I’m sure it’s fun at first
Test your pulse and check your vitals
If it’s only a game you lost me
I quit it with the suicidal recital
If it’s only a game you lost me
I quit it with the suicidal recital”

“A Matter of Survival (Part 2)”

This second part contains more insights I’ve found, personally, on some of the “whys” on how we ever came to be consumed by the effects of crossdressing and Transgenderism, and the feelings & thoughts associated with it.  It’s quite an interesting look at how there’s a striking similarity in how “we” (those that crossdress. Mainly those that aren’t homosexual.) are ultimately searching for the same thing that non-crossdressing, homosexual  men are…   affirmation with the masculine! And though it’s through different actions, situations, feelings, thoughts, etc., it’s still ultimately the same thing that we are searching for. And I think I can be so bold as to say that it’s also the same for men that are homosexuals that crossdress as well.

I’m not trying to imply that this is the same for all crossdressers and transgender individuals – including transsexuals.  I don’t claim to know everything! I’m very much a man that still struggles on a daily basis with crossdressing, Transgenderism, and the effects, feelings, thoughts and temptations associated with this devastating addiction!  I’m not a recovery case. I’m still very much going through the “Ups and Downs” of a daily fight for my freedom from this “seemingly endless cycle”.

Anywho’ , as I’ve mention in my last post, this is quite long of a link to read, but VERY well worth the read! It’s helped me to reconsider the truth and my circumstances in this addiction, and why and what am I ultimately searching for and trying to find through crossdressing and bleeding myself dry for something that resembles femininity – in my warped perception!

A Matter of Survival (Part 2)

by Bob (written for Help 4 Families)

Taking a hot and lengthy shower had become a ritualistic overture to stepping into the world of the feminine. It was a twisted form of baptismal cleansing, an act of purification where the despised evidence of the masculine was removed by the sharp, ceremonial instrument, a Bic razor.

However, this day was decidedly different. As I stood beneath the exhilarating fount, a familiar, gentle voice interrupted my thought processes. It was unexpected, extremely ill-timed, intrusive, tender, but firm. My spirit knew whose voice it was. So did my troubled soul! He said, “You do not have to do this, for I am here to give you the strength to resist.”

This was not good news to my ears! I wanted to step out of the shower, dry off and get about the task at hand ASAP! It was something I had planned to do for days. The time was right. Everything was in place for being transformed into my female self, Jennifer, if but just for a few hours. This was not something I had thought I would have to reckon with: the possibility of escaping this bewildering compulsion of cross-dressing by simply obeying the inner urging of God’s voice.

The Scripture came to my mind: “No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide a way of escape also, that you may be able to endure it.” (I Cor. 10:13)

I butted my head against the wall of the shower as a man within an institution’s padded cell, babbling beneath the steady cascade of water, “But, God, I do not want to escape this!!! I have been looking forward to being Jennifer once again. Don’t you understand? I AM A WOMAN INSIDE THIS BODY!”

I had tried so hard to convince myself that I was a genetic flaw, which in turn made God the ultimate scapegoat. This is commonplace for us, isn’t it? God’s encouragement came once more to draw from the inner strength of His indwelling Spirit in order to abort the intentional destruction of the masculine. “But, God!” I protested, “I have already removed my bodily hair, purchased new things and everything is in motion to do it. I have gone this far! I might as well carry it through to completion, for I have already sinned. Besides all that, I am not hurting anyone by cross-dressing.”

That did not turn Him away. My response? I put my face directly beneath the flow of cooling water, in the hope that the tender urging would cease, or at least be momentarily quieted.

How many times had I begged God to remove this part of my life from me? I did not want to be the frustrating and shameful person that I was! Two distinct personalities, one markedly masculine, the other a semblance of the feminine. I had written in my journal some six years before these observations:

I am today very, very sad. I see myself as miserably (very possibly, irreversibly) emotionally ill. I am afraid that I can never really be healed of this condition. I am so afraid of the power that I have within myself to destroy all that I have worked so hard to build. I feel tired, exhausted, without any residual energy! I am weary of the incredible masquerade. I am lonely, so very lonely, feeling as though no one could ever understand or care.

I wish that I could put an end to this misery I daily face. The only way that I know to do that is by either killing myself, having my sex gloriously changed, or experiencing some miraculously designed intervention from God. I have little (or no) hope for any genuine or lasting change.

I am not sure that I really never want to dress as a woman again. It is entirely too pleasurable and fulfilling, either in fantasy or fact. It is only then that I feel I am at peace with myself. The woman I see reflected in the mirror is the person I have always wanted to be . . . perhaps the very person I should have been all along!

We transsexuals think of ourselves as very unique individuals. Both sexes rolled up into one package. We love it and hate it! We enjoy both, but have a sense of disgust for each. We learned at a very early age to easily slip into either role in any given moment, loathing, yet loving each sex role, for there are distinct advantages to both. We have indulged ourselves with the best of both worlds.

But eventually the experimentation with the feminine role dominates and wins control over our wounded soul. We become increasingly passive, unwilling to resist her demands for expression. Many of us grow weary of the conflict and finally turn to the surgeon for more permanent relief.

As an adolescent I spent hours recording my thoughts, feelings and experiences in my diary. One such entry registered my anxiety: I got stuck in Mom’s red dress. The zipper got stuck. Dad was asleep but I had to get out of Mom’s things before she got home. My brother came in and helped me get out. I didn’t want to put the dress away. I loved being in it again. But I don’t get it. I want to be a girl. But I want to be a boy, too.

What we transsexuals imagine to be our “true identity” becomes a deplorable admixture of unspeakable elation and pain! Why? It is lust at its core–destructive lust that demands more than we would have ever been at first willing to pay. It is also rage–a silent, furious resentment and protest. Lust and rage when blended together thrust us into the hellish mockery of a human soul that we call transsexualism. As pointed out by one professional, “In sexual terms, lust may be experienced at first as pleasurable and satisfying. Fantasies will almost always move from the private to the relational–from thought to deed. . . devaluating the soul and, in fact, intensifying the emptiness.”1

Most of us adopted a female “secret” identity by the age of puberty, many of us long before. The girls in my neighborhood called me Jennifer Elaine when I played with them, sharing with me their mommy’s clothing, lipstick, perfumes, high heels. Each time I crossed over gender lines, the feminine identity became more fixed. I liked my female identity and name much more than my male one. I truly enjoyed both, but held the feminine in a much higher regard, acting out its role whenever possible.

Why did I prefer living in the role of the female? Why do you? Good question! In my case, a concrete decision was made in my third year of life. What other kind of decision can be made by a three year old? You do not reason out all of the explanations, facts and events. They serve as the mortar for forming self-perceptions. You simply experience them and make decisions based upon your very limited world-view, forming conclusions that are forever solidified in the soul.

I vividly recall the hot summer afternoon that Carol and I were playing house on the front porch. Both Carol and I were in play dresses, enjoying being like mommy, fixing something to eat for her baby. She reached for her doll and then gave it to me. With that exchange, the mantle of the feminine was warmly received, and the masculine was forsaken as a viable option for me. I was like her, and both of us were like our mommies. That was good! So very good!

I cannot explain the formidable wall of separation between my father and myself. It was just there. For whatever reason, I did not want to be like him, or like any other man I had met. His life was not appealing to me, perhaps even threatening, or offensive. I did not want to do “men’s things”. I did them, but not with a sense of enjoyment or satisfaction. It just seemed that it could never compare to the wonderful world I engaged when crossing over proscribed gender lines into Jennifer’s role, using my Mom’s things to momentarily escape the daily anguish of being male.

What was it that created this monster within my soul? For years I cast the entire blame upon my father, thinking that he could have changed the course of my history had he been more attuned to my needs. In my childish thinking he simply was not there when I needed him.

I now realize that he was doing all that he knew to do for his son. He was making sure that his family would never go without the material things in life. He worked hard, long hours on the night shift at a job that he hated. Dad was very much in love with his beautiful wife, devoted to his two sons and our happiness.

An excerpt from a letter my Dad wrote prior to his death expressed his desires for his first son: “Words cannot express what your coming into this world meant to me and mommy. You were and always will be a good boy. I always think of you when mommy was working and you helped take care of little brother. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

The remarkable thing is that I do not remember a time when he actually told me he loved me, or initiated a hug. I can fully identify with the man who said, “I have never felt loved or affirmed as a son or as a man by my father. I don’t remember him holding me, telling me he loves me, that I am good, or that he is proud of me.”2

As a youngster, the only thing that registered within me was that he wasn’t there when I needed him. Nor was he very interested in what interested me. Reality insists that these perceptions of him were inaccurate and therefore absolves him from responsibility for my emotional malady. But then, reality and I had never been close companions!

No matter how many wonderful traits Dad had (and he had plenty), the fact was that I felt insignificant to and rejected by him. My defensive stance resulted in rejecting him and the masculinity he represented. This is what Dr. Elizabeth Moberly refers to as a same sex deficit and detachment.3

It is more serious, however, in that I renounced my link with the masculine and opted for the only sex left. I did not try to find my completion in other men. That was not possible, I thought, because I was supposed to have been a girl, and felt that I could only be acceptable to Dad (or any other male) in that role.

Transsexualism is in truth an extreme form of unconscious, repressed homosexuality, for I truly wanted Dad’s love and affirmation, but thought it only attainable if I were a female. Most trans-gender males will be repulsed by the notion they are basically operating from the same defensive detachment coping mechanism of the overt homosexual. We believe ourselves to be afflicted in a totally different way. Give it some more thought!

Therefore, intimacy with a man was acceptable to me only if I were a woman. I know men who have attained the highest ideal of a transsexual’s dream through “corrective” surgery, and daily attest to their sense of well being. But in fleeting moments of gut-level honesty, express their lingering emotional pain, instinctively (perhaps not consciously) knowing that the deepest longing has always been for Daddy’s love.

So we draw life from mother, identifying as best we can with her, dressing up like her (or sister) whenever the occasion permits. We prefer being with her, and we grow extremely envious of the ease with which girls can fully emulate their mothers, receiving compliments and obvious demonstrations of affection from their dads.

I do not believe that I ever became detached from Mom. It wasn’t that she was a `smothering’ kind of influence at all. She was simply the most available, affirming and desirable of the two. As Dr. Nicolosi expressed it, “The father has to be a strong and attractive enough parent to induce the son to leave the comfortable relationship and original identification with mother.”4

My Mother was a very attractive and warmly affectionate lady. She seemed to always find time for me, even though she worked long, hard hours as a hairdresser. She deeply loved me, included me into her life and affirmed my feminine qualities. Often I would hear her say to her customers how she had always longed for and had expected me to have been her little girl. It could not have pleased me more for her dream to come true in me!

I turned off the shower, dried myself and stepped into the bedroom where all of the articles of my Jekyll and Hyde identity lay waiting for my use. Fully dressed and once again seeing the feminine side of my personality reflected in my mirror, it was obvious that I was unwilling to collaborate with the Creator’s prompting. I had clear rationale for what I was doing. I was Jennifer. As I viewed myself from all angles, I repeated over and over, “I am a woman! I am a woman!”

God-breathed inner strength to resist was there, but not appropriated. It is a fact that God provides all we need to win the battles within our soul, but more often than not, we are seasoned victims, accustomed to being casualties of war. As it was so well stated in Jessie Penn-Lewis’ War on The Saints: “The chief condition for the working of evil spirits in a human being, apart from sin, is passivity, in exact opposition to the condition which God requires from His children for His working in them.”5 “You can’t expect God to protect you from demonic influences if you don’t take an active part in His prepared strategy.”6

But cross-dressing had become my means of survival! To devour (or be devoured by) womanhood had become a routine. I was living from an inherited problem resulting from the Fall, refusing to allow Jesus be Lord!

I was not wanting to be a humdrum male. In order to escape that horrible fate, I quickly yielded to fantasy, imagining what it would be like to be a woman, transported into that more appealing realm, where fantasies served as “magic carpets . . . to deliver the soul from boredom, anxiety, anger, loneliness, and rage to a `better’ world that offers momentary relief and satisfaction.”7 Lust is properly defined as “The effort to possess another in order to steal enough passion to be lifted out of our current struggles into a world that feels (for an instant) like the Garden of Eden.”8

The story line is radically different now, thanks to the steady and unfailing goodness of God in healing my masculine identity and helping me find what one author described as “liberty through Christ to disown the flesh with all its programs, including the desires for sexual expressions contrary to the intention of the Creator.”9 It has taken a long time for me to be able to genuinely attest to such a thing as lasting change, an authentic inward peace with who I really am–a man.

Embracing the masculine does not occur quickly. It is impossible to unravel all that goes into this kind of personal restoration. That is one of the main reasons for writing this to you, using this platform to transmit hope, encouragement and insights. I do not want others to go through the years of anguish, self-loathing and inevitable loss of God’s intended destiny.

One thing is for certain: God is not in a hurry and will help us every step of the way, if we let Him. Many believe that we have to fully understand all of the intricacies of our past before we can effect lasting change in the present. That is helpful, but not required. The truth is that the Lord wants to invade the present with His power to overcome the sensual lusts of our soul, heal the ravaged heart and mind.

This whole “shower episode” happened long before I actively pursued therapy. The Spirit of God was giving me clear instruction on what to do long before I came into contact with the “root causes” of my sexually broken identity. Life is so much different when we cooperate with God, learn to draw upon that inner strength to resist, for it is always there.

Feelings will always be there, too. They are not easily changed. Our twisted passions are motivated by rebellion and self-love. It is God’s grace (empowerment!) that enables any of us to be free. We rationalize our persistent identification with the feminine by saying that God expects too much from us. We protest, “I do not have the inner strength (or desire) to stop this never-ending cycle of entering into my imaginary world of the woman within!”

That is just the point! We do not possess that kind of energy. It is from God alone! Paul clarified it plainly, saying, “Therefore do not let sin reign in your mortal body that you should obey its lusts, and do not go on presenting the members of your body to sin as instruments of unrighteousness; but present yourselves to God as those alive from the dead, and your members as instruments of righteousness to God. For sin shall not be master over you, for you are . . . under grace.” (Romans 6:12-14)

We have ample opportunity to receive or reject God’s enabling power. If you merely want pain removed, you will not get well. If you desire only to go on enjoying your own selfish, self-centered life, you will not reach your intended destiny in God. If your goal is to escape trouble (the very thing God uses to wake us up) so you can go on serving your selfish god of pleasure, you will not find true fulfillment in life.

But those who relinquish their life to God will find true life. The secret of life is to lose it (Luke 17:33).10

The choice is ours. It always will be.

Footnotes: 1. Dan Allender, Bold Love, (Colorado Springs, CO: Navpress, 1992), 105. 2. Leanne Payne, Crisis in Masculinity, (Westchester, IL: Crossway Books, 1985), 71. 3. Elizabeth Moberly, Homosexuality: A New Christian Ethic, (Cambridge: James Clarke & Co., 1989), 38. 4. Joseph Nicolosi, Reparative Therapy of Male Homosexuality, (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson, Inc., 1991), 33. 5. Neil T. Anderson, The Bondage Breaker, (Eugene, Oregon: Harvest House, 1990), 78. 6. Ibid, 78. 7. Dan Allender, Bold Love, (Colorado Springs, CO: Navpress, 1992), 103. 8. Ibid, 103. 9. William Backus, Telling the Truth to Troubled People, (Minneapolis, MN: Bethany House, 1985), 243. 10. John Sandford, The Transformation of the Inner Man, (Tulsa, OK: Victory House, 1982), 119.

A List of Transgender-Common Symptom

A List of Transgender-Common Symptom

This isn’t my link, but I found this link interesting for a list of common symptoms found among 80 pre and post-transsexual “MTFs”.   http://www.wheregraceabounds.org/resources/transgender.shtml