Gender dysphoria and suicide……..

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Yesterday I read a story posted here by Emma Anne Tate, For Us, the Living. Like all of her work, as well as the work of many others on this site, it had me crying. But more importantly, it had me reflecting on my life, my family, and the lives of others.

I have been dealing with a serious bout of depression the past several months, not the least bit aided by the holidays or the weather. I will get through it, but it has been a challenge. Needless to say, my own issues have added to the impact of many of the stories I have read here recently, including the latest from Emma.

As I am wont to do at times like this, I reached out to my middle son (who is a Supervising Sergeant Investigator for the Sheriff’s Department) and made an appointment to borrow the Sheriff’s Department shooting range this morning. Putting a few hundred rounds down range has always helped me to clear my head; don’t ask me why, it just does - a fact I discovered while in the service. Perhaps it has to do with the simple act of concentrating on an outside act that frees my thoughts, or perhaps that is all mumbo-jumbo and I just like doing it - all I know is it works.

So, after spending an hour on the 500 meter rifle range, and another hour on the 50 meter pistol range, I sat down to clean my weapons before packing them up and leaving. I worked through my 9mm Enfield and my Stoner Carbine, and then my Colt .45 Semiauto (which was my service weapon in the Navy - I inherited it from my father and carried it throughout my active duty career), before starting on the Colt .32 Semiauto which I inherited from my grandfather. The .32 is the weapon I carry nowadays in my purse, when I feel the need to carry, as it fits much nicer than the .45.

While cleaning the .32, I couldn’t help but remember it’s history. My grandfather purchased it in 1905 (it is a 1903 model), and eventually used it to commit suicide in 1960 - ten days before I was born. His wife, my grandmother, insisted that it go to me. As such, my father held it for me until I was a teenager, and then passed it down to me upon my 13th birthday. It was in fact my fourth firearm, but my first handgun.

During my rough days, when my dysphoria and depression nearly overwhelmed me, I came very close to killing myself on multiple occasions. But for some reason, it never once occurred to me to use the Colt .32. On those times where I sat staring at a pistol trying to find a reason not to put the barrel in my mouth and pull the trigger, it was always my .45 - never the .32. Luckily for me, the thought of my wife and children being left to cope with my death always managed to stop me from taking the easy way out. It was extremely close a few times, but alas, I am still here.

The point of all this morbid thought is that it occurred to me that here I sit, a decade or so into my transition. I also have a second cousin on my father’s side of the family who is also transgender - she was born the son of my cousin, the grandchild of my father’s brother. I also know now that my father had a cousin who was, at the very least, a cross dresser, something that I don’t remember (although apparently we met when I was very young), but my mother brought to my attention a few years ago.

So, within three generations, we have a cross dresser (perhaps more, but we’ll never know) and two transgender women. On top of that, if we go back one more generation, we have my grandfather who “accidentally shot himself in the head” while cleaning a loaded pistol; a pistol he had owned for decades and was fully familiar with. Bottom line, he shot himself, and that was the story used to cover it up. Was he perhaps also gender dysphoric and couldn’t deal with it any longer? We’ll never know.

The prevailing scientific wisdom is that gender dysphoria is not an inherited trait. But I wonder. If it is in fact a genetic trait, and as there is arguable evidence of at least the last three generations within my family showing evidence of the trait, could my grandfather have been a fourth generation? As I never had the opportunity to know him I can only speculate.

Those people who bury their heads in the sand and believe that transgender individuals are a new phenomenon, the result of some idiotic conspiracy theory being perpetrated on the world, should do a little research. We are not a new fad, nor is being trans a choice. The medical field has established the fact that gender dysphoria or gender incongruity is a medical fact. Only more research will help to determine the causes, but it is my feeling that based on my family alone there is some hereditary causality.

Ignoring facts has never been an answer, and we are not going away.

Oh, by the way, I made $250 at the range. Sooner or later those macho assholes will learn that this Naval officer can outshoot all of them, lol.

Comments

Suicide

I was suicidal, or depressed most of my life, though the last 5 years have been much better. I am adamant about NO psych medications.

I've also understood that I am not GID. I'm just very feminine, and XXY Non Klinefelter's ....
You can't allow others to put you in a box of their choosing.

Gwen

We can't lose you...

SammyC's picture

Fight the good fight, Dallas. You have made a real contribution to this world we all have to make a turbulent journey through, not merely for your military service but as a spouse, parent, and one of the lights of this site. I am grateful to you for your warm support of my writing as I'm sure many of the authors who post on this site are as well.

Depression is also something I've had to battle for most of my life. But I intend to perservere. To quote Dylan Thomas: "Do not go gentle into that good night...Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

May we all see better days, here on this firmament and not have to wait for the Goddess to wrap her soothing arms around our tired souls.

Hugs.

Sammy

Had me worried

Emma Anne Tate's picture

Lordy, woman! There you were, straight from reading my story to handling firearms, including the one that launched the bullet that killed your grandfather . . . needless to say, I was scared shitless of the direction your anecdote was taking! I'm awfully glad you went in another direction. And your point about dysphoria maybe having genetic connections . . . all I can say is, I wouldn't be at all surprised. But I don't have any data to back that up.

Sammy speaks for me as well. I treasure your reflections here. Your support for my writing has been amazing, and I hope you know how much all of us appreciate you. I also hope that all of that helps when the dragon shows up for battle. Know that you aren't alone.

Emma

What has always helped me the most……

D. Eden's picture

Is knowing that taking the coward’s way out would leave devastation behind me. I simply cannot countenance the thought of doing that to the people I love.

As I expressed in my comment regarding your story, the true victims of losing this battle are those we leave behind. The shattered lives which originate from the momentary act of selfishness which is suicide are unforgivable in my eyes.

I have caused enough death and destruction to last many lifetimes. Carnage and ruination were my stock in trade in the service, and the trade, as they say, was good. Lightning from the sky, thunder from the sea was our motto - the end result being wholesale slaughter of those who dared to stand against us.

I have much to atone for in this life, and the next. I will not add the extirpation of my family to my account.

D. Eden

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus

I know we had a similar

KristineRead's picture

I know we had a similar conversation after you commented on my first story in the contest. I am glad you have those reminders and the people that love you to hold onto.

We all need something!

Kristy

Genetic/family trait

Patricia Marie Allen's picture

I vote with you as to it being an inherited trait, though like Emma, I have no evidence to back up that notion. I do know that my father was a closet nudest. About the time I formally came out to my father I discovered that he preferred to hang around the house naked. Before that I remember him telling me about discovering that he had a cousin who was a nudest because he happened to be reading a nudest magazine and saw her picture in it because she had be voted queen of the camp or some such.

At any rate, it's my belief he identified with her and took up nudity as a result and it was that closet lifestyle that allowed him to accept me as me when I finally came out. I was found out, though never caught, as a cross-dresser three times between ages nine and eighteen. Not once in those times did he tell me I shouldn't be doing it. Only once (when he knew I'd been out in our back yard in a slip, did he suggest I should be careful to not let anyone see me because "they might think you're crazy." circa 1960.

Hugs
Patricia

Happiness is being all dressed up and HAVING some place to go.
Semper in femineo gerunt

There's No "Alas" About It

joannebarbarella's picture

You're still here for all the right reasons, love of your family being the foremost, courage the next.

I have had conversations with others, mainly here, about degrees of transgenderism. There are those like you, who have to transition or die anyway. I guess I am one of the "lucky" ones, insofar as I have learned to live with the condition through force of circumstances. There are different points on the Bell Curve and only by staying alive can we help ourselves and others. You, Dallas, are doing that.

Don't stop.

Joanne

Thank you for sharing

As they say: “Hindsight is 20/20 sight.” Looking back at the last half century of my life, I can now see more latent suicidal tendencies and episodes than I would like to admit. Mostly along the lines of what has been commented on here on BCTS of engaging in super-macho, high risk activities, in the hopes that a fatal accident would free us from the social stigma and ostracism of being gender variant, queer or trans.

There are more than a few activities that could have resulted in very serious bodily harm and disabilities, and that raise some serious “how could you?” questions now.

In the last twenty-some years I have become more aware of how my psyche ticks, and suicidal thoughts have been no stranger to me. But there is a wonderful quote that was posted may years ago here on BCTS that I have had pinned on the wall above my desk for many, many years:

Suicide is a very permanent solution to a temporary problem.

Being mindful and practicing awareness of my mental state have been very helpful in my ongoing struggle. In fact my recent social transition to cross-dressing 100% of the time, has eliminated a whole bunch of stressors from my life. But I am still struggling to find a therapist to work through a whole gaggle of past trauma, the resulting consequences and start towards a formal and legal gender transition.

Gwen mentioned psych drugs, in my case it was anti-histamines in allergy medication that caused me to become very suicidal and scare the crap out of me. I fired the allergist post-haste because he would not take my concerns seriously.

For my own personal well-being, I refuse to go anywhere near any kind of firearms. Even though they are weirdly fascinating. And I also avoid any kind of first-person-shooter type games on the computer. I discovered that they are detrimental to my own personal mental health.
In the same vein, I also avoid any and all alcoholic beverages. Apart from the fact that I discovered in myself a propensity to becoming addicted and an alcoholic. I have seen too many people loose their common sense and becoming unhinged and violent on as little as one can of beer.

Heck, even the balcony of my current apartment scares the crap out of me. I have this constant fear of loosing my balance or tripping and falling over the railing to impact on the paved terrace four floors below.

My personal experiences and opinions are just that. I have no intention of judging others for having differing experiences and opinions. And since we are all different, have had different experiences and each of us is unique, I subscribe to the principle of “agreeing to disagree agreeably”.

I spent a great deal of time…..

D. Eden's picture

While in the service looking for death. I was very well acquainted with death, and repeatedly placed myself in a position where death could find me. I am ashamed to say that doing so not only won me accolades and commendations (which meant nothing to me), but earned me (and my team) a reputation. We began being placed in more and more critical situations, which suited me just fine; more opportunities to find an honorable death.

It finally hit home with me that my actions were resulting in those under my command being placed in more and more danger - something that went against not only my training, but my own inner morality and sense of honor. It had been drilled into me from childhood that I had a responsibility to those who depended on me; a responsibility to them and their families to keep them safe and bring them home.

It took the loss of several members of my security team to wake me up to the fact that others depended on me, and that my actions were placing them in extreme positions. Yes, I was doing my job - and doing it very well - but I was taking unnecessary risks in doing so. It was this danger to my troops which saved me. That, and a very, very smart Marine Gunnery Sargeant who figured me out - who knew before I was able to admit it to myself that I was transgender. He was the non-com in charge of my security team, and he had them keep me safe and alive both in and off the line.

Many of us seek death. Sometimes at our own hand, and sometimes not.

It was understanding this, and understanding what that act would do to those who loved me, that saved me.

D. Eden

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus

The need to transition

The need to transition can hit at anytime. Mine occurred after I had been on 'mones for two years but had not transitioned yet.

The need pressed forward after having been laid off from my job and it chose that time to insist on it, hell or high water.

That is a bad time as I wanted to transition away from my area so I could have a fresh start so even though I was better off trying to find a job in my home area I needed to go out of state.

Consequently I was on unemployment to the point of running out of it after 9 months at the time. The stress of the two together drove thoughts of suicide and such. If it were not for the acquaintances I made as well as my future partner I don't know what would've happened.

The takeaway is never put yourself in the position where you are out of control of your transition.

I was lucky to find a job at literally just past the last month of my unemployment before being moved to my current home state.

And before having to dip into needing my credit card for everything. That can never end well. It is so easy to get in over your head with credit cards.

At Any Time

Marissa Lynn's picture

First off, I'm glad you're still here, that everyone commenting here still is and sharing their stories.
In my case, I never got to the point where I planned to or made an attempt, but there were thoughts in my head. At my lowest, it was good that I didn't have access to a gun.

As for the need to transition kicked in very quickly after a VERY long delay.
It unfolded like this:
!. Put together who I was at 10 or 11.
2.Mom remarried, a younger guy who was physically and emotionally abusive and didn't like having an "effeminate" stepson.
3. A year-and-a-half under the same roof as the stepfather scarred me, leading to decades of denial.
4.Started to come out as "gay" in 2009.
5.Came out as trans less than a year later, precipitated by Facebook conversation that veered into the topic at some point. And this happened eventually in that convo -- Me: "Oh my god, I think I'm trans", Cis woman friend: "I know. This ain't my first rodeo
6. Went from "I don't know if this is all of me or part of me" to "This is me" in six weeks, if that. The last bit of doubt was gone after my first time out in public as myself, at a Pride. The next day, when I had to be dressed as "him" almost physically hurt me.
7. Two long years before I was able to transition. Not fun.
8. Transitioned in 2012, the only regret is that I didn't sooner, especially what I had no control over, that it wasn't safe for me to come out when I should have been able to ("thanks," stepdad).

Walked down that road several times, or

Andrea Lena's picture

For Transgirls who considered suicide
when the closet was too much
.

I never transitioned, but a few years before Mrs. D's death and subsequently recently came out to my son and daughter in law in word only. BUT one of the exercises my therapist has encouraged me to use is to talk with my younger selves,

My conversations of late have included words of forgiveness from my 13-year old self who understands just how things had to be in 1964. And her appreciation for the acceptance I and consequently she had from my late wife, in a manner of speaking. And we 'discussed' especially my ideation coupled with missed opportunities and renewed spirit; those choices and circumstances resulted in both Andrea at 13 and 'drea at 73 surviving.

It sometimes was just a phone call not made or the stereotypical road NOT taken that has preserved me and several of my friends here. I am torn, as are many trans persons in my generation, in that we can both be profoundly disappointed and frequently battling dysphoria but also almost paradoxically very glad for the life we DID lead.

Love y'all!

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Gender dysphoria

Patricia Marie Allen's picture

Gender dysphoria is insidious and tenacious. Looking back at my life I can see just how much denial permeated my existence. It started in my tween years. (circa 1958) At first it was just total ignorance. As I got older I fell for the idea that all the cis world jumps at and saw it as a sexual act in my teen years. Then as I approached adulthood, I came to accept that cross-dressing was my hobby but maintained I could give it up at anytime. I sure that when I got married it would simply fall by the wayside.

As I began to seriously deal and look forward I went slowly through several stages of awareness. At first it wasn't that I didn't like my body or that maleness was wrong, it was that women's clothes were so right. I embraced my traditional masculine role. I was a woodsman's woodsman... A hunter, both rifle and bow... a mechanic, and a carpenter. Of course I spent time indulging in my "hobby" quite often,

Then something snapped. On a trip to Billings Montana, I found myself in the women's clothing section of Montgomery Wards with the urge to try on a dress. Part of that was to be "in your face" with the young attendant. It tickled me to think of her reaction when I asked to try on. At first I resisted but then gave in fully expecting to be turned down and give her a story to tell. Well I'm sure she had a story to tell, I wasn't turned down. To my surprise, she was most helpful an showed me to a fitting room and checked to see if I needed anything and finally sold me a dress in a most professional manor.

I came away from that with the regret that I didn't have the appropriate underwear on. When I came back home I began wearing women's underwear exclusively. That was the beginning. I was still in denial.

Things progressed slowly and when my wife became more accepting, I began daily changing into women's clothes after work. Oh, it was still just a hobby; I wasn't trans, I just enjoyed cross-dressing. Some where in the middle of that I toyed with the possibilities of how to grow breasts, but I wasn't trans, at least not that kind of trans.

I also started going out dressed, often. Oh I had ventured out before and would have considered once a month to be "often" and I always did full make up... you know, foundation, blush, mascara, eye liner and eye shadow as well as lipstick. But now it was minimal; just lipstick and mascara. But now it was weekly and sometimes multiple times a week, including grocery shopping at my local Safeway.

I also decided to come out to my doctor and simply go to appointments en femme. About ten years ago after debating it for a long time, I asked my doctor if she could prescribe estrogen for me. I was seeing an endocrinologist for treatment of an enlarged thyroid and after consulting with him she told me the cancer risk was too high.

A couple of years after that she retired and I got a new doctor. I asked her for the hormone prescription and she referred me to the Gender Pathways Clinic. I started HRT about six years ago, finally admitting that I was that kind of trans.

Backing up in the story. I never seriously considered suicide, but looking back it's astounding just how often I noticed that in this or that situation how easy it would be to do something wrong and die as a result. Like when they were putting in I-5 through my town there was a bridge over the Willamette with the main off ramp going North on I-5 and a secondary off ramp earmarked for a freeway yet to be built. It was blocked of with those cement barriers you see often and I determined that if I just started accelerating on the opposite side of the bridge and took that exit in excess of 90 mph that the impact with the barrier or the fall after being launched from that 100 foot drop would kill me. It was an intellectual exercise; never really contemplated, but looking back it's scary the number of times I crossed that bridge and took note of that. And that was only one such contemplation.

Hugs
Patricia

Happiness is being all dressed up and HAVING some place to go.
Semper in femineo gerunt

As an intellectual exercise……

D. Eden's picture

I once devised the best way to commit suicide - no mess, no pain.

All you need is a tank of helium gas (easily obtainable at any party supply store, and even at Walmart), a plastic kitchen garbage bag, a few feet of rubber tubing (aquarium tube will work), and a roll of duct tape. All things that were already in my home. Oh, the joys of having an education in Chemical Engineering, lol.

Luckily for me, even though I knew how to do it, and could have easily made it work, I also knew how it would impact my family and never put the method to use.

D. Eden

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus

Happy Holidays

Whew. . .We Made It!

Getting through the holidays can be a major accomplishment.

Holidays involve horrible diets, sleep deprivation, and lots of alcohol.

That's a sure formula for anxiety and depression.

In the frigid north, we suffer from a lack of sunlight.

I love Christmas . . . but it can be an ordeal.

Take a deep breath, pat yourself on the back, and enjoy life.

Jill

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

I believe gender dysphoria is

Rose's picture

I believe gender dysphoria is inherited. I know the current wisdom is that it's not, but my sister and I were both born with male bodies, and I have kids that tend toward trans as well. Besides. They have found that trans brains are different than cis brains, which would be structure. It seems to me that would be a genetic thing.

Signature.png


Hugs!
Rosemary

Generations

One of my grandsons is now my granddaughter. I have had only one real conversation with her, but she is still not willing to unload. Sadly, we live 2,000 miles apart so there is little contact these days. She lives with my social worker ex, but is not comfortable with opening to her either. I worry and hope she can accept the support she needs, but there is little anyone can do until she is ready.

Life goes on...

Outshoot them all??!!

Yay, way to go Navy. Good work, Ma'am.
I may be Army and be opposed to Navy in football but... so I'm a turncoat. As I said; 'way to go, Ma'am.'

By the By, as there are physical signs of the LGBT ( especially transgender ) in the Brain per recent research, I would say there is a definite link ( the extent is the question ) genetically which would mean it can be passed down generation to generation. It may skip, like some ailments ( not say it is an ailment - just the mechanism ) but I agree, it is likely genetically linked.

That's my 2 cents worth.

POOKA.