Who Am I?

*The Quick and Dirty Overview*
I'm a 28 year old bio-male from Dallas TX. I'm a convert to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints from the age of 18 in 1998. I am also someone who has gender dysphoria. I officially refer to myself as a MTF (male to female) transsexual. I transitioned to becoming a female in 1999 and lived as such until 2002 when, due to a personal revelation from the Lord, I returned to the church and to the male sex. I reintegrated into a male lifestyle and have been active in the church ever since. I still have gender dysphoria and am here looking to meet others as we learn to cope with this insidious condition together.

*Before Conversion*
I won't tell you as many others will that I've always *known* I was a girl. Let's just say I always suspected it. ;) From an early age I engaged in cross-gender behaviors and interests. I did things like kissed the other boys at school, told everyone I intended to marry my best friend (Timmy), always looked for an opportunity for make believe and roleplay and when doing so always took on the female role, and expected that I would grow up to be like my mom. Most of the adults in my life assumed I was just gay and would grow up accordingly. I of course was oblivious to the fact that I was doing anything weird at all. You could say it came naturally.

Puberty was a difficult time. At least while in elementary school I was still quite naive to the disdain the other boys had for me when they made fun of me, but by middle school they started to make it overwhelmingly clear. My cross gendered antics earned me a number of names and excessive hazing. I didn't walk right for a boy, didn't talk right with overexpressive gestures and a sing songy voice, and I had no specific interest in anything the boys were doing. All of this screamed "target!" by other kids looking to establish themselves. I did a make a few friends, but this was rather by default due to them being outcasts as well. They were the first though to make me aware, though they seemed uncomfortable doing it, that I came across as a girl and not a boy.

This shocking revelation would reverberate the rest of my life as I struggled during my late onset puberty with the fact that I was going to one day be a MAN: someone like one of those guys who beat me up, someone like my dad whom I feared, someone who be expected to do things that I wasn't any good at (remember, I still had a child's mind). This thought unsettled me. Now before I go any further let me mention that I always knew I was a boy, but until this time in my life it didn't seem to matter - there were no expectations to be met and I was naive to earlier attempts at making fun of me.

This is where the gender dysphoria truly began. At this time in my life I would begin to have dreams that I would instead grow up to be a girl. These dreams were incredibly pleasant and a shock to awake from. In fact as I got older, I'd find myself each night hoping and hoping that I'd have another - anything to escape the harsh reality of the person I was becoming even though such dreams would always be shattered the following morning with a brief glance in the mirror. I entered high school a depressed, anxious, and terrified young teenager. I had major problems with my dad, was no longer performing well in school, cross dressing any chance I got and dealing with the shame of it, and utterly hopeless that my future held any value for me.

In high school I made some new friends in my honors classes. A few of them took me under their wing and helped teach me to behave "more like a man". I listened to them with earnest and during this time developed the person I refer to as The Actor. The Actor was the male me that could have existed had the real me never been so screwed up. The Actor learned everything these boys had to teach him and he became REALLY good at it. In fact, The Actor, ended up being good at everything. He was smart, funny, manipulative, he got girls, he skipped school when he wanted, and he was a fairly cool cat. The Actor went to school in my body everyday and made things bearable. Kids who once made fun of me now had to deal with the fact that The Actor was smarter, funnier, and incredibly more popular than they were.

The Actor, however, was just an actor. I watched it all from inside of him. Yes, he was me, but at the same time something so foreign. In the church we are taught not to wear masks as the anonymity they offer can make us into different people. I didn’t need a physical mask, I let my actor take over. My mother became fed up with him and his attitude and my dad envied him. There was one huge drawback to The Actor though. As popular as it made me and as bearable as high school was because of it, he was not me – not at all. I was this kind sweet little kid who wanted nothing more than to please everyone who delighted in self sacrifice and service! The Actor didn’t care about anyone but himself and the world loved him for it. I felt that I wanted to be known again, but fear overwhelmed me and kept me hidden. But in the darkness of my hiding place away from the world, my gender dysphoria grew like a plague to proportions I could never have imagined.

I knew at this point that my cross gender desires were not going to go away as they only seemed to intensify. They needed release and while cross dressing at first helped a little, but with my body so masculinized with testosterone, cross dressing only served to remind me that I wasn’t in the body I wanted. I had seen a television show where a boy had become a girl, and after questioning my mom if that could really happen, I became convinced that it what I would do once I was 18 and out of high school. This one thought seemed to carry me through the last year.

As I rounded out my last year at high school The Actor met a new girl to woo. She however proved not to be so woo-able. She was LDS and not at all attracted to some of my antics. I started to realize that she, unlike countless other people I knew, might be the real deal – a person of real purity, a person that wasn’t necessarily going to be attracted to The Actor. I wanted very much to be friends with this girl. I began slowly to shred the façade I put up, and did anything I could to help make her life better. I offered to take her home from class when her car didn’t start, aid her in homework, listened to her when she was down, and did my best to make her smile whenever I saw her. She in turn, for my 18th birthday, gave me a Book of Mormon.

Now the details of my conversion are important but not at this time. I will say though that I spent a grueling eight months with the missionaries battling over doctrine. The girl who had started me on the path was already out of my life by that time, but her family whom she left behind continued to aid me in the spiritual quest. In the end however, being prompted by the Spirit, I read the whole of the Book of Mormon (in about a week), and by about Jacob 5, knew there was really something to the book, and by Alma was converted to the church. I finished the Book of Mormon and prayed as I was taught to do by the missionaries and exhorted to by Moroni, and like lightning the Spirit came upon me strongly endorsing its authenticity. I was baptized into the church two weeks later. I was 18 years old, still struggled with gender dysphoria, still had The Actor to deal with, had parents and friends who thought I was half nuts, but I knew it was true – a testimony that would bear me up during the difficult times that were shortly to come.

*After Conversion*
The first months in the church were bliss. I had plenty of challenges with Satan seeking at every turn to tell me the church was a lie, but I kept him at bay, and even toned down The Actor. I felt more love and grew more than at any time in my life previously. I buried myself in the scriptures and other writings of the prophets and wanted to do everything I could to learn all I could. When it was proposed to me that I go on a mission once I had been a member a year, I was all for it and began from that time to prepare for the task ahead. All the stuff that had once been important to me started to pale and my entire life became directed toward serving a mission for the church. I got an amazing job for a high school graduate and saved nearly every penny so that at my one year mark I could have $15,000 saved for a mission – a goal I would eventually meet. My relationship to the girl continued after I joined the church, and though she was away at Rick’s College (now BYU-Idaho), we considered ourselves a couple. I finally felt everything in my life make sense, I could be my caring service-oriented self, and know that I was doing the Lord’s work!

So what happened to my gender dysphoria and my plans to become a girl at 18? Well, let’s say I put the plans on the shelf when the dysphoria took a back seat to my overwhelming drive to serve a mission. I still felt it, but often pushed it to the back of my mind like barring the door to an unwelcome guest. I had a specific goal now and believed that the Lord would make it go away.

As the time grew closer to putting in my papers, the dysphoria began to creep back into the forefront of my mind. Perhaps it was due to uncertainty of where I would be sent or the challenges I would face, or perhaps it had been ignored for just too long, but its presence began to make itself known to me and depression set it. At this point the church was totally unaware of my cross-gendered feelings as I had left out that part during the baptismal interview due to the shame and awkwardness of it.

I knew that before I could serve a mission though that the bishop would need to know about my feelings or else I would not reasonably (truthfully) be able to comply with the mental health portion of the mission application. I sat down with him and told him my story. That first meeting was such as blur of emotion for me. I was telling this bishop the thing I had never told anyone else ever and my emotions bubbled over. By the end of the meeting he decided that I had better put the mission aside for the time being while I worked through more of my feelings through the church counseling program while I met with him weekly.

I was crushed. Everything I had been working toward suddenly got a “delayed indefinitely” stamp on it. I went to the counseling sessions and went to the regular bishop meetings over the next few months. We didn’t seem to make any progress. They were still convinced I needed more time, and I didn’t feel they were really helping me. All of the confusion only opened the window for my gender dysphoria to worsen as the future became more and more uncertain.

What made matters worse was having to explain to my friends and other adults at church why I hadn’t left of my mission. My girlfriend, who was still away at college, began to wonder as well and even began to think that I might not go. She desired to marry a return missionary and if I wasn’t going to be one, then she might as well look elsewhere. I don’t know if that was her reasoning or not, but ultimately she did look elsewhere and left me. I was crushed even more as my world began to cave in around me. I didn’t feel I could tell ANYONE why I wasn’t going on a mission yet but it didn’t stop people from asking me or making their own judgments I felt.

I retreated from the world and from the church. I still went as I did before, but I became more passive and less anxious to do more than I had to. I stopped going there for comfort and support and turned somewhere else – a new discovery, the world of internet chat rooms and forums, a place where I finally met people who felt the same way I did.

*Before Transition*
The internet seemed to be a godsend. For the first time I got to interact with others who not only had my cross gendered feelings, but were my own age! These kids care from all walks of life and with different backgrounds, but they all had the same thing in common, each of them struggled with gender identity dysphoria. I immediately fit in. I got to know them and their stories and they mine. My story was an oddity to most of them as none of the were Mormon and most of them were in some stage of transition (changing to the other sex) with or without their parent’s approval.

Becoming an active part of this community filled a whole I had my whole life. I wanted to be with these people all of the time. For the first time I could completely cull The Actor, I could totally be myself, I could share my deepest feelings and be validated for them. I didn’t feel ashamed of myself. I started to neglect all of my real relationships with others just to be in the chatroom or on the forums with my new friends. I still went to church and to the bishop meetings but secretly desired to be home in front of my computer.

During this period I felt wonderful, but that wonderful feeling gave way to intense longing. I wanted to be myself with everyone! I hated being able to be so free online, then so stuffy with everyone else I knew. Even though my bishop knew, he didn’t count because he was telling me there was something wrong with me. I didn’t like feeling like there was something wrong with me! I decided the only way I could really start to break free of The Actor and to feel as free as I did on those forums was to start coming out to others.

I started with my closest friends, mostly girls. Generally it was accepted well and some of them who knew me the longest told me that it was somewhat expected. I was suddenly invited to all the things I never got to go to as a child, slumber parties, shopping trips, all girl gatherings, etc! It was heaven! I started coming out to my guy friends as well at the urgings of my girl friends. They took it less well having been totally consumed previously in their relationship with The Actor, but most accepted it and a new, freer me. I even came out to some close friends at church who, for the greater part of them, were puzzled at my feelings but more concerned about them than embracing. Naturally I started gravitating toward the friends that validated my feelings and shied away from those who were confused by them or felt them dangerous.

Getting this out in the open felt liberating like a big weight was lifted from off my shoulders, but it wasn’t enough. Finally people knew the truth about my feelings, but I was still a boy and the gender dysphoria made my ever aware of this fact. It was now six months after the time I should have gone on my mission with less and less hope of that now occurring so my mind began to turn to other plans. Encouraged and emboldened by my friends online, I decided that I would start down the path of transition as well.

At this time my parents were having to suddenly move to a new home due to some financial concerns. They, pretty sure that I wasn’t going to be going on a mission anytime soon, though unaware as to why, borrowed $9000 of the money I had saved for my mission to save them from bankruptcy. I took the remaining money and decided to move into my own apartment instead of moving with them. The move to this new apartment was specifically so that I could begin transition. I told my friends of my intention and while some cheered me on, others, namely my church friends, went into red alert mode.

They did everything they could to convince me that transition was the wrong thing to do. In the end they succeeded and I put my transition on hold purging (throwing out) everything of mine that had anything “female” about it, and even had a friend move in with me to monitor me, but seeing no potential for forward momentum in life or in the church, I spiraled into a deep depression and lost job after job and eventually was evicted from my new apartment.

When I returned to my parent’s house I felt I had lost everything. I wrestled in prayer with the Lord begging him to fix me – to take it all away! I wanted to serve a mission, I really did, but I couldn’t if I couldn’t get my dysphoria under control! I became frustrated for the first time with the church and with the Lord. I was in the worse depression of my life – I couldn’t transition, I couldn’t go on a mission, God wouldn’t take away the feelings, but the church would never condone my choice should I try to handle my feelings by changing my sex. It was at this point, I had to make a choice.

With a heavy heart, I bowed to my knees in prayer and begged God to give me a sign that everything was going to be alright, that He would take away my dysphoria, that He would make me a whole person and happy as a male in a male role. I told Him that if He didn’t answer, then I knew what the answer would be, and that I would transition and leave the church. There was no answer that night from God. I felt abandoned. I took comfort though in that I now had no shackles keeping me from transition. If God wasn’t going to stop me, then no one else had a chance of doing so.

*Transition Interlude*
Because this story isn’t about my transition, but about my relationship with the church being a transgendered individual, I will by necessity abbreviate this part of my story.

I left the church. I told the Elder’s Quorum to stay away. I told my church friends that if they wanted to remain my friends they wouldn’t try to get me to go back. I came out to pretty much everyone who didn’t know before only this time, I told them I was changing my sex. My mom embraced my decision and did all she could do to help reasoning that “she always knew”.

I started seeing a gender therapist to help me in transition, started on female hormones, and came out at the job my mother got me. I stated dressing as a girl around the house and sometimes out in public, and became active in the transgendered community in Dallas. My young body, still malleable to the effects, began to change overnight in the presence of the hormones and daily I became more and more passable as a girl. My hair grew out long and I practiced and perfected new intonations in my voice. Eventually I saved enough money to buy a new wardrobe and have an orchidectomy (castration) to remove the future effects of testosterone.

In about five months I was ready. I moved to Missouri to live with a friend from the internet and started living as a girl full time. I passed (was accepted as a female by the general public) almost instantaneously – so much so I accidentally convinced the GBLT youth group I joined that I was a young lesbian instead of a transsexual. I got a job as a girl.

The next few months flew by with complete integration into my new role and new communities of friends to find support with. Eventually I moved to Oklahoma to live with some other girls there and even eventually moved in with a genetic girl roommate. There I attended college for the first time, dated guys, provided for myself, and did just about everything else a girl does. I had made it. I needed only to save up the money to finish electrolysis (to remove what hair I had on my face) and eventually SRS (sex reassignment surgery).

This time in my life was one of trial but great rewards. I loved the person I was. My gender dysphoria subsided completely and I looked forward to a remarkable future as an intelligent, beautiful, college educated young woman, who intended to be married to the guy of her choice and one day adopt children with him. I yearned for that goal, I worked hard to achieve it, but with that dream came its own nightmare.

I wasn’t active in church, but I still believed in it. I had a powerful testimony and one unanswered prayer didn’t invalidate it. I still knew the Book of Mormon was true and that the church was where to find eternal happiness. I wanted my future husband to be Mormon and my children! I wanted to be sealed to them in the temple for time and all eternity! I wanted to be their mom and love them as their mother. But I knew inside that if I completed my transition that could never be. Even if my husband was a member, and even if my children did join, their mother could never go to the temple. Their mother could never be sealed to her spouse or them. Their mother would be forced to go to Priesthood and they would have to bear the shame of it all. The thought sickened me – I didn’t want that to happen to them! I thought that perhaps I just wouldn’t raise them in the church, but then knew the horrible blessing I would be withholding from my children and knew I couldn’t do it. These thoughts destroyed me. I wanted to hate the church, I wished I had never known about it, that it had never come into my life, that I had never met that girl, that I had never read the Book of Mormon, and most of all that I never had the testimony that came from that so very powerful, undeniable witness of the Holy Ghost. But I knew it was true and because of that, something had to change.

*Revelation*
It was an excessively cold winter night in Tulsa, the ground and streets were frozen, but I was a woman on a mission – I needed to contact the church. I needed to find out if I could still return to the church that I knew was true but do so as I was now. I looked up a local ward’s information in the phone book and called the church office. Amazingly someone picked up. I asked if I could have the bishop’s phone number as I urgently needed to speak with him. I didn’t tell the clerk what it was about or that he wasn’t talking to a girl. He gave me the bishop’s phone number and I quickly hung up and dialed him. He answered at home, and sensing the urgency, agreed to meet with me up at the church building.

I made a perilous journey through the ice and snow but eventually found my way to the building based on his instructions. I went inside to meet with him. He asked what he could help me with addressing me as miss. I laughed inside and then told him who I was. His eyes bulged and jaw nearly hit the floor as I told him. He stuttered at first telling me that I couldn’t have picked a greener bishop to ask for him from. My question was simple. If I wanted to come back to the church, what would I need to do?

He took a moment to collect himself and then with authority told me several things, none of which I expected nor wanted to hear. He told me that I would need to quit my job, leave my roommate (as I was living with a girl), change back into a boy, and go before a disciplinary council to determine the terms of my return. I argued with him, how could I do all that? I had a life here! Changing all of those things the first time took a lot of time and I was just expected to change back? How was I going to eat without my job or live without my roommate? I felt hopeless and left that night in a fit of tears. He wished me the best as I drove back into the night’s freezing cold. I felt it had all been a waste of time that God must not really want me back in the church, that I was utterly damned. The church had ruined my dream of a husband and children, and it sought further to tell me that the only way I could be a member of it was to go back to being a hopeless male.

I got home and locked myself in my room not speaking to my roommate. I cried for hours. Nothing was going to be fixed. Even if I were to do what the bishop said, he didn’t tell me that the same problems wouldn’t happen all over again. I was truly damned. I could either believe in the church and ultimately forsake my dream or convince myself it wasn’t true and deny my family the opportunity to be sealed anyway. I got on my knees.

I told God everything that happened with the bishop and how sad it made me. I told Him all of my concerns, my worries, but how I still believed, how I wanted to come back to the church I loved, but how I didn’t want to be miserable. I told Him that if I had to go back to being a male, that I wanted to die. I paused then asked if I should follow the bishop’s advice. A voice came clearly into my mind with great power and an undeviating message. “The way back to the church is paved before you take the first step.” I arose from prayer knowing I had received my answer. I had to follow the bishop’s advice no matter how hard it seemed trusting that the Lord had already paved the way for me to return even though I couldn’t see it. I felt an incredible sadness, this meant the end of my life as a girl and an uncertain and potentially very miserable future, but ultimately the path the Lord wanted me on, and I surmised that if He was willing to tell me to do something, then I knew, in time, it would become clear why.

*The Next Few Days*
Going back would be as difficult as going forward I thought. I would have to change my name again, come out all over again but this time to people I knew here. I wasn’t even sure if my body could pass as male anymore so extensive were the changes so it. I’d have to find a new job and a new place to live and somehow do it as a male. I decided none of that mattered, I just needed to go forward with faith.

The next day I called my job and quit on the phone. I told my roommate that I would be moving out and would somehow figure out a way to make up my half of the rent for the remainder of the lease. When she asked why I avoided the issue telling her it was personal. I dug through my closet and found the most male clothes I could fine. I put them on and pulled my hair back into low pony tail, the way the guys wear it, and didn’t do anything but pull it flat against my head. I looked at the mirror and sulked, it certainly didn’t look male, but it would have to do.

I drove to the store and picked up one of the Sunday papers and quickly started going through the want ads. I found a company, temp to hire, that needed phone customer service done. I drove to the company and went in to apply. In the most male voice I could muster, I told them my old name and filled out the application. While there I was eventually called in for an interview and even accepted for the job. They asked for my driver’s license and I began the process of explaining that I was becoming a guy. They figured that out already it seemed because it didn’t surprise them much. They hired me that day.

That night I went home feeling like I had won a huge victory. Within one day I was able to do a lot of difficult things, but there were still so many unknowns. I decided that I would capitalize on my new decision and make a few people very happy. I called up my parents and told them on the phone about my decision leaving out a few of the spiritual details. They were overjoyed and told me that should I wish to, I could always return to live with them. They even offered to pay my half of the rent to my former roommate should I wish to come back sooner. This was a tempting offer and it would certainly be easier to de-transition where I was already known as a male. I told them I’d think about it.

I then decided to call a close friend of mine. Several of my friends all worked at the same video store and were on the shift till midnight. When I told one of them, he immediately told the others. They then clamored together and decided that they would make a midnight road trip to where I was living, over 5 hours away, and take me back to Dallas the next morning. I was ecstatic.

They arrived that night, each of them expressing sincere happiness at my “return” and we spent most of the rest of the night and into the early morning in laughter. The next morning I explained to my roommate that I was leaving, my friends and I rented a truck, packed up all of my things, and moved back to Dallas.

I should note at this point that I knew my GID was not gone, I knew it more strongly at this point than ever before. I knew the Lord’s promise to me that the way back was paved for me, but honestly, deeply inside, I wished that the Lord would kill me. I knew the depression I once felt, and I knew that God would expect me to live the rest of my life “faithfully” as a male. I sincerely hoped that the “rest of my life” would be a very short time so that I could die a repented male without the pain of the dysphoria plaguing me. That of course, at least 8 years later, has not happened.

*The Road Back*
The next few months were not easy as I sought to reclaim my male life, but my friends and family did all they could to make me feel welcome. Looking back at this time I’m exceeding grateful for all that they did, but I made some serious mistakes during this time that would haunt me later. During this time, I was so overjoyed to be back with these people who loved me, and they so glad to have me, I never told them the details concerning my return. It was generally assumed that I went to become a girl, didn’t like it, and now returned. The whole subject became a source of friendly hazing as if it were some big joke like a college prank. In the end, I allowed them to believe that my cross-gendered feelings were gone, or worse, never existed at all, and that this “phase” of my life was over so as not to worry them, and partly because I wanted to believe it. I began to re-establish the role of the Actor.

Returning to church was far easier than expected. When I left, I left a lot of people who knew why I was leaving and I feared to return to my old ward. The week I came back, a new single’s ward formed and I immediately began attending allowing me to really start over again. I told the bishop about what I had been through and my desire to repent. He helped me start along that process by first informing me that I needed to attend a disciplinary council.

I had never been before a disciplinary council before nor had known anyone to ever speak of it so I didn’t have any idea what to expect. All I knew was that I wanted to repent, return to full fellowship, and was willing to do whatever it required to do so. So when the council came I was prepared to answer any charge they laid at me honestly and with sincere repentance. Without disclosing every detail I will suffice it to say that the disciplinary council was a wonderful experience but one that provoked a lot of thought. They asked me to consider the people I had hurt and how I had hurt myself. I had been a very public figure when I joined the church and a strong advocate for the church. My leaving it had left an impact the councilors told me, one that I would need to make restitution for. I meekly promised them that while I could not undo what I had done, I would best show my repentance by how I lived my life from this day forward and they will know that my testimony is true.

Apparently because I had not yet been to the temple and because I had not had transsexual surgery, and because they felt my repentance was sincere, I was only given a warning and asked not to take the sacrament for about three months. I was also given access to church resources to help me make the transition back to being fully male even though I never used them.

As far as my physical appearance went, I went to my original doctor who prescribed me the female hormones and he began me on testosterone to undo some of the changes. To be honest, I hated being on testosterone. Despite the relatively low dose, my facial hair grew out as it hadn’t before, I became a lot more unstable with regard to my mood, and I felt overwhelming sexual urges that had never been a part of my life. I stopped taking the testosterone after only three months, but the changes were sufficient that I certainly could look more masculine again should I choose to.

The next few years were great as I completely readapted into my male role. I was incredibly active in church, had a few jobs and went to college. I made new friends as time went on and further cemented relationships with old friends. In 2003, I met my future wife through the internet and she eventually moved to Dallas to attend college with me. Feeling it important to be honest in my relationship with her, I came out to her early on in the friendship. She accepted my past and even thought well of me for discovering many of the things I did about myself. I however put my GID in the context of being in the “past” though with little to no bearing on my future.

I should mention at this point that I attempted dating other members of the church, but so afraid was I concerning the fact that I couldn’t have children, and also my weird, and most decidedly non-RM past, that pursuing a serious relationship in the church might be fruitless and disappointing. Also I didn’t treat church as a social engagement and had practically no friends from there. I was all business in the church building oblivious to the desires of others for friendship with me.

So years past. I was a married male to a non-member, with a high powered job, still attending college, very active in church, many friends outside of the church and had the world (and myself admittedly) convinced that I was perfectly normal. But this all came crashing down when the GID returned. Don’t get me wrong, it had always been there, in the back of my mind at times, and would even cause me distress at times, but I most definitively put the nix on it over and over again suppressing and suppressing until I was truly in a state of denial. I felt that if it came out of the box I had pressed it inside, that it would again consume my life and I would lose my marriage and my happy façade of a life.

*The Beast is Back*
Last year, at the age of 28, my GID resurfaced with newfound vengeance and fury and sought to totally dominate me again. I told my wife wishing to be honest with her and she promised to help me with a follow up promise that if I ever transitioned, it would be the end of our marriage – an agreement I had made long ago to her. As we talked about my feelings over the following months we discovered many of the things I have revealed here. Specifically we discovered that the one thing that makes my GID worse is pretending like it isn’t there. So how does one embrace his GID without letting it overcome him? How does one live with the dysphoria without suppressing it and without transitioning? These were questions I was going to have to answer if I was going to make it.

I have now been on this quest for 7 months at the time of writing this, and I have not found the answers to my questions. I don’t know why I am the way I am, if it is a mental illness, or a birth defect. I don’t know if I’m spiritually different or special, or if I’m just a male with a condition. I don’t know if there are others out there like me and even if there are if they have found a way to cope. I have the whole of the transgendered community and the psychiatric authorities telling me that transition is the only answer while inside I know it is the only answer I cannot accept. How far can I go without transitioning? What can I do to embrace my cross-gendered feelings without hamstringing my ability to provide for my family? There are a lot of questions and very few answers at this point. I rely daily on inspiration from the Lord on how to make it without keeling over from the pain, and He helps me, I feel daily, to have the strength to make it one more day. I don’t want to live from day to day however, I want to find a solution, and if the book hasn’t yet been written on how to deal with transgendered feelings without transitioning, then I will to write it if it doesn’t destroy me first. I have every confidence in the Lord’s promise to me that the way back was paved before I took the first step, and am relying on it to save me.

Let me close by saying that Satan has been viciously attacking the church in my mind of late. I feel wearied by it, but continue to stand on my testimony. The only thing keeping me from going back to living as a girl is my testimony. If God is real, and the LDS church is His church, then He spoke to me when I read the Book of Mormon, and He also told me by the power of His Spirit to return to being a boy despite the uncertainty it would bring. But if He isn’t real, and if this church isn’t what it claims to be, then my faith is meaningless, and I fight a pointless battle within myself to stop from doing the only thing I know can help me – transition. Satan tries to convince me of this every day because it is so tempting to my carnal mind – but I have to stand strong. I believe having other members willing to stand with me can only help to serve as added protection against the fiery darts of the Adversary, but this is the trial of my faith, and ultimately I can only stand on my own testimony.