who i am written 3 years ago

[beverleyrussell]

Hi Ladies,
I found this "thing" i wrote about 3 years ago when i was really struggling with my identity, i did write it with intent of trying to make a journal to understand myself. It was never finished, hence the abrupt stop, but i thought some of you may have had, or even having issues such as mine then. I should also continue to say, that life nowadays really couldn't be better, so there is light at the end of the tunnel. Please read and let me know what you think.

Hope to catch up with many of you at the ball, until then regards to all, Bev.





The Wonderful world of the Cross dresser, seen through 49 year old eyes belonging to a Beverley Russell, a heterosexual “Crossie”
as I like to label myself, and will refer to myself throughout this article.

The following is a piece that was written whilst sitting at the computer after a major operation, wondering “why”.


Big question that “why” isn’t it. A question, that I must admit, took an awful long time, for me personally, to have an answer to, well at least one that I would consider even half plausible.

Here I am, a, married man, been married more years than most “normal” people, children, 2 daughters who are now 24 and 17, likes the good things in life, done the normal family man things, bought houses, held down, long term, fast paced, stressful positions, had ski boats, motorcycles, pets……all the run of the mill things…….plus, mind you there is always a “plus” this thing, aptly named “a cross dresser” for petes sake, what’s wrong with being a Crossie. Absolutely nothing….Providing you have gotton a handle on it.

Now this is where the fun starts, Does Beverley Russell have a handle on things? Up until a few years ago……Definitely Not.
Now, most categorically Yes. Hows that for confidence? Mind you, it took a staggering 38 years to sort that horrible question out, WHY! Talk about pull yourself to bits, and to be totally honest, I nearly lost the battle with myself, as I was battling no one else except myself.
My wife and 2 daughters were not part of the equation, my wife new about my Femme side and was a very supportive, my daughters at that stage did not have a clue, all except that my behaviour was not Kosher’ My big problem was…..Guilt, and even to this day still have very reserved feelings about my past.
The lies that I have told, how on earth can I ever be true to myself, when I couldn’t be truthful to my sole mate, of all people. This fact alone, nearly, and I do mean nearly, killed me.

To bring my tram back on the tracks, I had to do one major thing, only one, (seems easy now) and that was to Accept myself for who I was, not what I was. Once this step had been accomplished I could then look at my life as a gifted one. Oh boy! To be able to sit on that proverbial fence and see both sides of this strange world, and hop from one side to the other, what a plus. Ever since that I have managed to conquer and master the great “fence hop” I have seen the world in front of me, in a much clearer fashion, and know where I am headed, I know what my goals are, I know what is needed to see out the rest of my life in relative harmony, and above all, is to let go of the past, cant change it, Why live in it.
Simple philosophy really, and to think I went 38 years like that, before mister smarty pants woke up. And I have not looked back since.

I have had this mental understanding ever since I pulled myself together, that, I am one person, not two, I have one brain, not two, and I have two personas, one macho and one femme, these personas can, and will live together in harmony…..Co’s I said so! Stubborn bastard that I am!



As for Beverley Russell, a dreamt up fictitious name, for a man who likes, no, loves woman’s clothing, quite a connoisseur our Bev, became quite a “ perv” as my wife used to call it, Perving it wasn’t, studying I think was a better word, studying the femme form, the walk, the demure, and the attire, oh my god, the attire.
“Oh lady, why would you wear that skirt with those shoes”, or “that colour top with that skirt” as if I new any better than that of the wearer, after all I was a male…….or was i?
Why, would I be more interested in watching the femme form than watching the footy, Why do I find touching silky, slinky underwear more appealing than touching a 350hp v8 motor. Why, … see, there is that question, it just keeps popping up.
Oh, back to the dreamt up name, Couldn’t very well call a person in a dress, heels and wig, sporting full make up, John now could we? Beverley seemed to fit the Age, as being 46years old, I have the full “spackle” finish skin, more than my fair handout of wrinkles, or craters as I call them, sporting the full weather beaten look, one could not name themselves Tina, or Alicia or the likes, Bev just fitted the bill, and so was born, Beverley Russell.




It all seemed to have started when I was about 8 years old, (don’t forget I am now 49),( and yes, I can remember back that far!) when this feeling of wondering what that pair of nylon panties would feel like on, you know, the pair that mum had left in the bathroom, time after time, like they were left there as a tease just to see who, if any one, would touch them, god forbid, let alone try them on. The undies turned to hose and then to shoes, and then the sisters stuff was far more enticing than mums.
I fought with these feelings for many years, knowing that this was not right, that maybe I was “strange” maybe there really was something wrong with me. I know that I was different than most boys my age, I was not at all interested in sport, or interested in making billycarts and the like, I was more damn interested in what was on the next door neighbours washing line, than what was on television.

By the time I was 15, I was working and I was able to accumulate a little kit of my very own, …my “survival kit” I used to call it, and the biggest problem at that stage was to hide it….but where, the attic, the shed, where would you put the stuff where I wouldn’t be found, as a ingenuitive little bloke that I was, false ceiling in the wardrobe seemed good at the time, and It was like that for about 2 years.

Oh…. how I promised myself, I wouldn’t keep doing this, how weird is this I though to myself, damn, if I get caught, what ……that’s it, throw it all out, that will fix it, that will fix everything I thought……….

Wrong, wrong, wrong, how much more wrong could I have been. Fixed it for a while, I must admit, I really didn’t think about it for a very long time afterwards, but it was this time, that unbeknown to me, was the starting point of all my Guilt troubles, all my years of self torment, started right here.


Girlfriend, turned wife, couple turned into family, with family came financial burdens, with built up burdens, came stress, and you guessed it.
Yep, knock knock I,m back. Out comes the ol’ survival kit, well, the remnants anyway, as I had trashed most of it some years before. Those years that followed were, well how can I say it, absolutely terrible, no, horrendous, that’s a better word, I learnt how to live my life as a charade, learnt how to be someone that I wasn’t, learnt how to be the big Macho husband, learnt how to tell stories,…. oh’ how I learnt to tell stories, and I think, worst of all, I learnt how not to be the best person I could have, or should have been.

The sculpture in the making, moulded myself into a man not worthy of my loving wife, a man who fathered 2 wonderful daughters, how, to be totally honest, I have got no idea, my wife shouldn’t really have got close enough to me, but as I said earlier, a woman worthy of much much better, that what I had delivered, and yes, she is still the most important part of my life today, so, who was the silly one, and who is the lucky party, Einstein, you don’t have to be, to figure that one out.
Many years past, lots and lots of water under the bridge, and lots of hours spent trying to find a little time in which to do what creates me so much mental anguish, I know why I do what I do, but I don’t understand it, It seams the more I try to make some sort of sense from the whole thing, the more bewildering it becomes.

Now, with every year that ticks by, my life, which by the way, should be filed with happiness and contentment, instead of torment and denial. Not really sure, but over these years, how many times i did the dreaded purge, must have been six or seven, throw it all away and solemnly promise never, never to do this rubbish again.
But, as I learnt how to tell stories to others to keep my secret, I also learnt not to be truthful to myself, that was my biggest most tragic downfall, if only I could have faced the truth then, I would not have gone through all the years of self hatred, and turned myself into a person Satan would be proud of. Why” there it is again……Why, did my wife and family stay, to this very day, I still can’t fathom out that one. Mind you, I didn’t do myself any favours either, How I learnt to backstroke in a beer bottle, then, swimming wasn’t good enough, I moved in… an alcholic with a crossdressing problem, or a crossie with a drinking problem, what ever way it was, the outcome was terminal.


More to come………….

[Christine Parker]

Thanks, Bev. A great read.

Your story certainly resonates with me and I am sure resonates with most of us. While the details may vary, the main themes of secrecy and shame, leading eventually to acceptance are certainly there.

I look forward to reading the next chapter and I will whip up something on myself and encourage the rest of our members to do the same.

[JaneS]

Hey Bev, I can't say I 'enjoyed' reading your story but I am so very glad I did. A few weeks ago I was asked to write my story and after putting it off for a while actually finished it a few days ago. I would have to hesitate showng it in this forum though because at first glance I might be accused of copying your work! Besides, at eight pages it's a tad longer than yours.

There are some differences, of course, but the overall theme strikes a chord. I have three daughters, and a son, and I only came out to my wife in June 2008. The years of shame, doubt, self loathing and purging, though, are common. Thankfully another common facet is the fact that you finally realised it is a case of 'who' you are, not 'what', and that you are not a 'one-of-a-kind'.

I too look forward to part two.

JaneS