When things get seriously wrong and my obnoxious humor can no longer provide a band-aid of comedic relief to mask what ails me, I tend to withdraw and pull back into my hole where I am safe to deal alone with the daemons which plague my sentient and sub-conscious mind.

For what I face is what I seriously hoped I would not, but knew deep within that I would have to come to terms with at some point. The realm of playtime has pretty much ended as I had unwittingly foreseen. Dressing up to go out has not lost it's luster but its meaning has changed. I'm not dressing up any longer to admire how I look in the mirror and enjoy some time as my feminine self. I'm finding now, it to be the necessary step in allowing me to be who I am inside and to relate to the world as I know who I am. The peace inside of being myself clashes with an ever increasing ferocity with the polarity of who I am not when I have to go back to play the male role. The relief of stress I felt when presenting as Christen has been replaced with a greater anxiety of returning to the male role to meet the expectations and responsibilities of the life I have woven as him.

I am like the animal at the zoo that has been shown the glimpses of freedom beyond the bars of its confine. It can see and hear beyond the bars of the prison which it must continually return to. It's ventures into that world are stifled by the understanding that it's forays are temporal and that it must return to it's confines - within plain view of the world and of everyone beyond its prison confines, yet still invisible all the while to those who peer in on her.

Animals will make the best of the world they are given or they will give up on life and wait to expire. I can't find solace in either of those alternatives - perhaps I can find the answer in time....

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