Discovering Julie at eleven felt like unearthing a hidden twin sister, a part of myself that had always existed subtly in the background. I knew I possessed a feminine side, but I was unaware that it could manifest into a distinct persona. It was akin to gazing into a mirror, only to see a female reflection staring back, a tangible embodiment of the Julie within. While the act of dressing up facilitated her emergence, it felt more profound than simple cross-dressing. Julie wasn't just an alter ego created by clothes; she was a genuine aspect of my identity yearning for recognition and acceptance.

The moment I chose the name Julie, it was as if she sprang into existence, fully formed within me. The initial confusion was immense, like navigating a labyrinth where the walls kept shifting. But as time went on, Julie became more than just a name; she became a companion, a confidante, a best friend who understands me in ways no one else can. To simply “switch her off” is unthinkable, like severing a vital part of myself. The journey of growth with Julie has been transformative, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. Even the great Freud himself might scratch his head at the complexities of this internal relationship. Of course, there are practical considerations too; maintaining two distinct wardrobes can be a strain on the budget!

For forty years, I've lived a dual existence, presenting myself as Julie, a part of me that has had to remain largely hidden. It hasn't been a simple journey. Society, I've learned, often struggles with what it doesn't readily comprehend. The impulse to categorize, to apply labels, is strong, a way for others to feel a sense of understanding or control. Yet, even I, the one living this life, can't predict where this path will ultimately lead. It's a journey of self-discovery, fraught with both joy and the anxieties of navigating a world that isn't always accepting.

As a baby, I was apparently a rather plump one, often wheeled around in a pram that I detested, particularly those pesky straps. This led to frequent misgendering, with strangers constantly remarking that I was a girl. I'm not sure if my mother ever corrected them, or simply let the comments slide. Regardless, this early confusion didn't define my upbringing. I had a typical childhood, growing up in a loving home with my parents and siblings. I played with the usual boy's toys, never feeling any inclination towards traditionally “girly” activities like tea parties or dolls. And, really, not all girls even enjoy those things anyway.

The close call with my mother still sends shivers down my spine. I was convinced I was being so careful, so discreet, but the near-discovery made me realize mothers possess a sixth sense about these things. The threat of being dragged to the doctor loomed large, a terrifying unknown. Would it be pills? Some bizarre form of “therapy” aimed at stamping out who I was? I cringed imagining the doctor's pronouncements, so blithely dismissive, “Just a phase, he'll grow out of it.” How wrong they'd be! There's no cure for being transgender, no switch to flip. The thought of being Julie full-time now, if she had intervened differently back then, is a tantalizing “what if.” Perhaps it would have been easier. Perhaps it would have been excruciating. In today's world, being true to yourself is celebrated, encouraged even. Maybe a trip to the doctor wouldn't have been so bad after all, maybe it would have helped me understand and embrace who I am, who we are, sooner.

Looking back, I realize my mother likely wouldn't have grasped my cross-dressing. I imagine she envisioned a traditional path for me: growing up, marrying, and having children. A part of me wishes she could have understood, that it could have been our little secret. I believe I would have learned so much from her, gaining the freedom to explore my inner self, even if it was just the simple joy of being called “Julie” and walking around the house dressed as a girl. I longed to share those typically “girly” experiences with her, the things mothers and daughters do together, which I think would have brought us incredibly close. My exploration of Julie's World has been eye-opening, revealing that it's not just about wearing female clothing, but embracing femininity and expressing it authentically.

That initial step, opening the door and venturing out, is often the hardest. The doubt and fear can be overwhelming, but it's crucial to remember that countless women navigate the world daily with confidence and ease. Why should this be any different? It's about finding that inner strength and embracing the journey, knowing that once that first step is taken, there's no turning back from the experience. I like this quote from Abraham Lincoln:

“You can fool all the people some of the time

and some of the people all the time,

but you cannot fool all the people all the time.”

                                                              Abraham Lincoln                                  

The biggest shift I'd make is to remove the need to pretend or deceive. I'm not trying to trick anyone; I simply desire acceptance as a transgender person, free to embrace the gender that aligns with my identity and experience the joy of living authentically. The prospect of transitioning involves a significant commitment, including living full-time as a woman for an extended period. This would entail embracing the everyday experiences of womanhood, which at times feels like internalizing societal pressures and feeling ashamed of being a woman, but there is nothing to be ashamed of, being a woman is a beautiful thing!

Ultimately, my choices are my own, and I'm not harming anyone. The future for “Julie” is uncertain, and while the thought of gender affirmation surgery is tempting, it's a permanent decision. For now, I navigate the complexities of existing between genders, enjoying the unique perspective it offers. It's impossible to know where the journey will lead, so I embrace the present and remain open to whatever possibilities the future holds. I'm choosing to never say never.