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Archive for December, 2009

You’ve probably noticed a dearth of posts here this final month of the year. You know how Christmas gets…busy, busy, busy.

I do want to let you all know how much I appreciate your visiting this site, the feedback and comments I’ve received, the fact that I’ve had over 1500 nearly 2,000 hits on this blog in just the three months or so since I started it. You guys rock!

I’ve got a couple of topics lined up for next year, but in this day and age there’s no reason you can’t suggest topics you’d like my take on, so comment or send me an email and I’ll see what I can come up with.

Yes, I know I just ended a couple of sentences with prepositions…sue me. 🙂

Have a great (and safe) New Year’s eve, and a wonderful 2010!

-Dianna Faith Rose

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My wife doesn’t accept my crossdressing. Those of you who have been following these confessions are well aware of that. Up until very recently, she has barely even acknowledged it. Owing to a number of factors, it is something which she can’t handle.

But the other day she came close to acknowledging it. It was after hot wings and beef soup and cheese curls and more hot wings and football and family. We were just settling in back at home and of course I got the belchies. So I’m sitting there burping and belching and she’s complaining about how disgusting I’m being. Of course I played it up a little after that.

Then she says “You do like being masculine, too, sometimes, don’t you?” More statement than question, though I can see the need for reassurance in her eyes.

“That I do,” I answer, and proceed to burp again and scratch myself (I didn’t itch…just wanted to show her I’m still a guy.) 🙂

I started thinking about it later and realized that I do enjoy masculine stuff as well as feminine. That may sound surprising to you, but here’s why it surprised me a little.

I only accepted myself for what I am a year or so ago. I only really started expressing it a few months ago. What I found then was that I couldn’t get enough of the girly stuff. I think I was a little desperate to catch up on all the “girl” I’d been missing all my life, so I overdid it a little—on my cd.com posts, shopping, buying that cute little pink dress—though I certainly don’t regret any of it, especially not the pink dress. In short, I went pretty much “all girl” for a while.

But my wife’s question made me think. I still like masculine stuff, too. I really enjoy the Sunday Patriots games with family and friends, and yell at the botched plays and amazing touchdowns as loudly as anyone. I love my brother-in-law’s hot wings…best I’ve ever eaten, and messy as all get out. I love the idea of ripping down my old deck with some sweat and curses and a prybar. I enjoy watching Nascar (though fair to be said that appeals to many women, too).

I realized that my ideal Christmas would consist of gift cards for both Home Depot and Macy’s. I love the fact that I’m comfortable cussing out Brady and Moss for failing to connect on that “gimme” pass, and the next minute I’m admiring the cheerleaders’ uber-cute Christmas outfits, wondering where I could get one. I like the fact that I can stand and talk with a co-worker knowing that I’m wearing a pink silky bra under my shirt—not to mention the red ruffled panties and white tights under my jeans.

I do prefer skirts and dresses to jeans. I’d rather wear pretty panties than plain white briefs any day. I love the feel of tights on my legs, and the shimmer of my satin cami on my body. But I like doing guy stuff too.

I think I’m balancing out a little bit. The girl is still there—she’s always there, and if I have anything to say about it she’ll always be there—but I can wait to indulge her while I take care of replacing that drywall in the closet.

That’s not to say I’d be averse to making the repairs while wearing a skirt, mind you…but I wouldn’t want to ruin it. It’s such a pretty skirt. 🙂

-Dianna Rose

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A recent Daily Bible Verse touched upon the subject of both Heavenly and Earthly gifts, which led me to think about something that bothers a lot of people.  Here’s the link. It’s a quick read, so go check it out.  I’ll wait for you.

http://thedailybibleverse.blogspot.com/2009/12/james-117-every-good-and-perfect-gift.html

Two passages in the summary caught my eye:

“Sometimes we see God giving only heavenly gifts – salvation, guidance, peace. But he also gives earthly gifts – prosperity, success, favor.”

“our heavenly guide will use all of these gifts to transform us. The God who does not change uses good and perfect gifts to mold us into the children that will change the earth.”

Up until then, I had always thought that praying for earthly gifts was a big no-no in God’s eyes. But that’s because we have been so taught by our parents, our pastors, our churches.  Can our churches be wrong?  More and more lately I believe they can.  The closer I get to God myself, the further from Him most of the churches seem.

Don’t get me wrong…I still get a lot from church, but in some cases, the things they teach just strike me as a little bit off.

But after I read that daily lesson, I started thinking maybe it was okay to pray for earthly gifts…if they are the ones He wants us to have in order to better our relationship with Him, or bring others closer to Him.  And even before I read it, I knew the answer, because He was already giving it to me.

For a long time (years), I struggled with one aspect of my faith.  Well, truthfully, like many of us, I struggled with several aspects of my faith, but for the purposes of this post, I’ll concentrate on this one particular aspect.

For years, every once in a while, I’d need something more from my crossdressing than I had.  What I had was essentially a few minutes here and there in which to dress.  Now, for many years this was  enough—more than enough, since the urge to dress didn’t strike all that often. Well, truthfully, it never went away entirely, but I could ignore it for long periods. But in recent years I found myself feeling the need more and more often.  I’d spend a few minutes in a dress or tights, and afterwards I’d feel deflated, depressed, and just plain unhappy about having to take them off.

I started praying for more time and opportunities to dress. I’d become desperate in my prayer, almost whiny, and each time I thought “It’s wrong of me to even ask Him for this.”  And, because I wasn’t praying for it for the right reasons (i.e. selfish ones), He didn’t answer.

Then one day he did answer, and in that answer He showed me the right reasons.

I had an opportunity to spend an hour and a half in one of my wife’s dresses, a pair of tights I had bought for me (because I couldn’t bring myself to wear my wife’s), and a pair of size 8 ½ beige pumps that my wife no longer wore.

It was heavenly!

I mean precisely that.  I felt so relaxed and comfortable (disregarding my pinched toes) that I knew I was meant to wear dresses. I knew I’d be more happy in a dress than in jeans.  In short, wearing those clothes put me in a better frame of mind—and the right frame of mind is essential for hearing our Parent speaking.

Now, I had also struggled for some time with my writing.  At first I prayed to be published because I wanted to make money.  So again the wrong reasons.  After a while I realized that my motivations were way skewed, so I took a step back and a deep breath, and started writing for God.  Not for recognition, not for money, not for success.  I wrote with Him in mind.  My stories contained unapologetic references to Him—always as a part of the characters themselves—and  were in my heart dedicated to God.  I still prayed for publication, but now I was praying for the ability to use my stories to help reflect a little of His light.  And money was no longer a factor.

Guess what?  I had four stories published this year, for one of which I was paid.  I had not prayed for selfish success, but He delivered success anyway.

What does that have to do with my crossdressing?  I hear you asking. 🙂

This: God clearly wanted me to write, but what?  I wanted to wear dresses, so badly I prayed for it.  God said “Okay, you can have your dresses, but you need to write about it.  You need to bounce a little of My light into corners filled with despair, or confusion, or doubt.  You need to use your words—the words I will give you—to bring some of My lost sheep back into the fold.  To do this, you need to be at peace in your mind so you can hear me, which at this moment means feeling comfortable and relaxed by wearing the clothes that help you relax, and I will give you a measure of that peace.”

And he did.  He has since answered prayers for specific articles of clothing I was looking for, He has guided me to places where I found things unlooked-for that I ended up loving, He has opened some doors—just a tiny crack, in some cases—that allow me to express my inner woman, and therefore relax and focus my mind.  And a relaxed mind is better equipped to hear its Creator speaking.

I know He’s reached a handful of people through me.  I don’t know to what extent He has helped any of them by using my words here, or on the forums at crossdressers.com, but I do know He has reached them and that He has helped some of them.  I am thrilled, each time it happens, that He sees fit to use me as His instrument.  It’s a wonderful feeling, believe it or not, to be used this way–at once humbling and lifting.  I pray constantly that He continues to see fit to make me His instrument, in whatever small parts He chooses for me.

He has also used several people here and on cd.com to help me—often at the precise moment when I really needed them—and for that and for them I am truly, truly thankful.  You know who you are. 🙂

With His love, and in His service, I remain

-Annie

Is 48:17-18.
Thus says the LORD, your redeemer, the Holy One of Israel: I, the LORD,
your God, teach you what is for your good, and lead you on the way you
should go. If you would hearken to my commandments, your prosperity would be like a river, and your vindication like the waves of the sea;

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The Wings of a Rock

For twenty-five years I was my wife’s rock.  Her touch-stone, her stability, her support, her foundation.  Her childhood was difficult, for reasons I won’t go into here. Some of this transferred onto me, in that she ended up relying on me to hold her up, and I did my best.

I was too good at it.

When I say I was her rock, I mean she relied on me to provide stability for nearly every aspect of her life: financially (she hasn’t had a full-time job for years), emotionally (she has few friends, and none she feels comfortable confiding in), mentally (see “emotionally” above…everyone needs real people to talk to), spiritually (her faith isn’t as strong as mine, so she relies on me to tell her what I think God is saying)…you name it.  And over the years, I just fed into her reliance on me. I taught her that it was okay to stand on somebody else’s feet.

When I came out to her, I pulled the rock out from under her. Completely tumbled her end-over-end into the dirt. To be honest, I didn’t realize I was literally every kind of stability for her.  I thought she’d wobble for a bit and come out back on her feet.

Boy was I wrong.

I’ve never felt worse about anything in my life…and never felt more trapped. Because how can I not be her rock when she has no other foundation for stability?  Right now I just want to explore my female side, just want to move around a little, but rocks don’t move.

Even when she gets through the crisis she’s going through, she has said she does not think she can handle the crisis I caused by my crossdressing.

Let me step back.  It’s not my crossdressing that causes her problems.  It’s the fact that I’m a crossdresser.  Do you see the difference?  If my dressing was causing her to be scared, it would be because I was doing it more than she could handle, or I wanted more out of it than she was willing to give, or was spending too much money on it, or something like that. There would be some external pressure put upon her that would cause her stress, in other words.

No, the mere fact that I like to wear dresses at all is what frightens her.  It’s not within the realm of things she can cope with. She literally can not handle thinking about me that way,  Unfortunately it’s the only way she can even see me any more.

So tell me how screwed I am.  The only solution she can live with–short of a true, God-given miracle–is for me to give it up entirely, to never wear another stitch of women’s clothes again, to never think about wearing a dress, to never look a a pair of heels without being 100% masculine about it.

And I can’t do those things. Not won’t…can’t.  If I could give it up, I would have done so one of the thousand times I tried in the past quarter-century. It does not go away–never for long, never entirely.

And this is the problem, the thing that caused her rock to throw her to the ground: a rock never moves. It never gets to do anything at all. Its job is to sit half-buried in the earth and hold up whatever stands atop it. Whatever is atop it can move all it wants–can dance, fly, spin, jump, whatever. But the rock can never move.

The problem is, this particular rock has wings. And it desperately needed to stretch those wings.  It needs to take off and soar into the sky.  It was never meant to be a rock.

Okay, so you say “why couldn’t you stretch your wings in some other way? Write, draw, compose, tackle, jump, run, swim, etc.”  Tried that.  I write.  I love writing. But not even that stretched my wings enough. What about another hobby, or sports, or cars, or anything.  Stretch your wings in a more normal way!

Great idea, except for one small problem.  My wings aren’t made ofscorecards or pool-laps.  They’re not made of drywall or sports cars.  They’re not made of pigskin or gasoline engines.

My wings are made of satin and lace. They might even be pink.

If my wife were to read that she’d completely lose it.  It’s one of those things she simply can not hear without going literally insane.

Do we choose how we were made? No. God chose for us. He made my wings satin and lace.  They are wide wings, beautiful and reflective and God-made wings.  They were furled and cramped for forty years.  They need to stretch, to flap, to lift me into the sky. They need to soar over the world, giving back just a tiny fraction of the Light they were given.

But they are pinned.  Pinned by my own choice to be her rock all those years ago.  Pinned by her inability to accept them, by her need to shade her eyes rather than look at them. Pinned by her fear of what I am.

I don’t know how to shade her eyes, short of continuing to lie to her about whether I want to buy that dress for myself, about how often I need to dress, about how far I want to fly.  But since that’s all I can do to keep her stable, I do it.

And it’s killing me.

I can not change who I am, nor do I want to.  I’m doing more to reflect God’s Light (I hope) as Dianna then I ever did before. God called me to do this, calls me to write, and I feel He wants me to write as Dianna.  Why should it make a difference, you ask?  I don’t know, but it does.  The old me couldn’t write the things I’m writing now. The old me could not express myself properly to get these thoughts out.  The old me was not relaxed or comfortable or confident enough to do what I’m doing here.

Ony Dianna feels free enough to write Confessions of a Christian Crossdresser.

Who cares?  Well, maybe not a lot of people, but I know I’ve already touched one or two souls.

How can I not believe God wants me to do this?

Stretch your wings.  Discover what they’re made of.

Mine are pink satin and lace.

-Annie

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The other day, after my wife’s counseling appointment (for stress and anxiety caused by the crisis through which she’s going, unrelated to but aggravated by my crossdressing), we were sitting down to lunch at a local restaurant.

Now, the thing about counseling is, it is a pot-stirrer. Think of it as like making a chicken soup.  When you start boiling the chicken, a lot of nasty gunk floats to the surface of the pot. You skim this off, but if you stir it, more gunk is released. Skim, stir, skim again, until most of the nasty stuff is out.  Even after the soup is made, all the good stuff settles to the bottom, so you have to stir it up before you dish it out, to make sure every bowl has the chicken and rice and vegetables and herbs.

So counseling for her right now is bringing up a lot of nasty gunk. When she comes out she is pretty emotionally drained, and there’s a lot of guilt and doubt still hanging out on the surface.

So we’re waiting for our food to come, and we’re talking about her session and other things, and she’s feeling guilty about the stress she feels she’s causing to me and our marriage.

“Do you still love me?” she asks.  It’s a regular question.

“Of course,” I answer.

“Even when I drag on you?”

“Even then,” I say. “It does not change.”

She needs to hear this, because she sometimes feels she doesn’t deserve to be loved.

“Do you still love me?” I ask, because I still need to hear it from her.

“Always!” she says.

I pause, because a line just popped into my head, and I know I’m going to say it because I can’t help myself.  I also can’t stop the grin that widens my cheeks.

“Now see, I could have said, ‘Even when I drag on you,” but I held back.” I say.

We both crack up. You would too, because my delivery was perfect.

In the midst of laughing she mentions that she’s just not ready to accept me enough to joke about it.  I apologize, of course, but I know I’ve hurt her a little by making the joke.  We’re both still laughing about it for some time afterward, and I think I see just a little of her tension melt away.

So I’m a little in doubt. Did I help or hinder our progress?  I think I helped a little, and the wonderful ladies over at crossdressers.com seem to agree when I posed the question to them.  The joke lessened the tension a little and made her laugh, which is something I haven’t been able to do a lot of lately.

Others on the forum there, though, think I may have done more harm than good.  Their point being that she was clearly looking for reassurance from her husband—the man she married—and the time was not right for jokes or for bringing my “other woman” to the fore.  They make valid points.

But here’s the key…they don’t know the specifics of our unique situation.  I think I did more good than harm, and here’s why:  my wife needs, more than anything, to know that I am still the same person she fell in love with.  She needs to be able to look at me without wondering who she’s seeing.  She needs to be able to re-connect with the same old me she’s always relied on.

That joke is precisely the same sort of joke I would have made in any situation.  It was a true “me” joke.  In making it—and in spite of the subject matter—I think she actually saw a small glimpse of her husband again, for the first time in a long time.  I can’t confirm this, because to bring it up again would definitely cause harm, but I’ve known her for twenty-five years and I think I’m right on this.  She saw the real me again—just for a moment—even if the joke did hurt her a little.

Now I can hear some of you out there—you struggling with the fallout of coming out to your wives, or contemplating that big moment—thinking that lightening things up with a joke about it must be a good thing, because it worked for Dianna.

Don’t be fooled.  This joke was spontaneous and unexpected—even by me.  I AM NOT CONDONING JOKING in ANY “coming out” situation.  In most cases it IS a bad idea, because it makes your spouse/significant other doubt your sincerity.  However, only each of you knows your own unique circumstances.  I did not plan the joke—it was very spur-of-the-moment.  Nor will I ever plan to joke with my wife about my crossdressing.  But in this one case, at this one time, I believe it helped…just a little.  I believe God put the joke in my head just when I needed it.  I have asked him—oh, more times than I can count—to guide my words and deeds, and I believe this was an answer to that prayer.

2 Cor. 4:6 —  For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.

In His peace,

-Annie

Here’s a couple of other light moments that slipped through the cracks of our eggshell-stepping.  Again, I don’t put them here to make anyone yet to come out to their spouse more comfortable with joking about it, but rather to illustrate the handful of light moments that God has given us to help us cope.

I came out to her shortly before Halloween.  We were trying to think of costumes and—because I’m a Star Wars nut—that franchise naturally came up.

“Okay, but who do we go as?” I asked.  My wife threw me a curve, and also herself because she really was not ready for joking about it then, when she answered right off the cuff:

“I could go as Han Solo and you could be Princess Leia.”

She naturally nixed that idea instantly after she said it, but it lightened things up, just for a heartbeat.

Once while on the phone with her, we were making plans, probably around what we were having for supper than night.  We settled the details, and I said, “Okay, sounds like a plan.”

She said, without thinking, “Yes ma’am.”

Little bit of silence on both ends of the line after that one.

Right after I told her about my secret, she naturally asked if I had worn any of her clothes.  Of course I had to answer honestly (that hurt her, let me tell you…she felt violated).  One of the items I had worn was her short beige skirt.

She had been losing weight (largely due to stress over her crisis, but she wasn’t starving herself…rather she had turned a mental corner with regard to eating smarter).  I had bought a new pair of jeans because I had also been slimming up just a bit, so I needed the next size down in the waist.

“Let me try them on,” she said, because she used to fit in my jeans.

I said “No, you can’t wear my clothes,” which fortunately she was in a good enough mood to take well.

“Tough,” she said, “Give ’em here.”

So I did, and they fit on her.  They fit so well she said “I’m keeping these.”

“No you’re not,” I said. “Go get your own.”

“No, I’m taking these,” she said, “You can have my beige skirt for them.”

Don’t fear, I knew better than to answer to that with anything other than silence.  But I did grin.

No, she didn’t get my jeans.

I would have traded for the skirt, though. 🙂

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Got to spend an hour and a half in my skirt, tights and turtleneck today, and it felt SOOOO good! I truly am more relaxed and “up” when I am dressed like that. Even my cold/flu/whatever that I have today sort of “went away” during that time–no sniffles, no sneezes, no skin crawlies, nothing.

See? Crossdressing heals! Think I’ll have that made into a bumper sticker. 🙂

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