Here it is, another Friday night, and I’m lock up in my room, wishing I could go out and enjoy the nightlife. Sadly, for a girl like me, I don’t live in an area that’s conducive to being out. One, it’s the bible belt, and two, the area is so small that I would be bound to run into people I know. I haven’t really come out to people I know, except to a few that I really trust.

I’m currently looking for a job, hoping to move away from this depressing backdrop and find a place a little more accepting. That’s why I love living in the big cities. It’s easier to lose yourself in the crowd. It’s easier to find a community to belong to, a network of people who can accept me for who I am.

But that’s not why I wanted to write today….

I went to Mass today. I’m a practicing Catholic – which opens up another can of worms, one I’m not ready to talk about – and today was the Feast of the Assumption. I don’t want to get mired in talk of dogma and beliefs. I want to speak from the heart, about what I think while I sit quietly in the pew.

I stand, I sit, I kneel…, in short I follow the order of the Mass, and I do what is expected. I’m not so good at listening, however. My minds tends to wander down uncomfortable paths. I see women and young girls wearing dresses and skirts and I long to be one of them. I wish I could be out to enjoy worship as the person I am.

I imagine myself, as I do in other settings, wearing an appropriate length skirt, still sexy, but modest enough not to anger the congregation. I think about the feel of the pantyhose on my legs, the heels I would wear. Nothing slutty, again. I’m at church.

I daydream about earrings and jewelry, and even the kinds of tattoos I would like. In short, I want to present myself to God and to the world as the woman I desperately wish I were. Does that make any sense?

Sure, I could leave the Church and find another that would welcome me with open arms, but that’s not my way. I’ve made my peace with the guilt I felt about being Stefani and the duality that is implicit with being a crossdresser. I could no more stop being a Catholic than I could renounce myself. I am Stefani, but I’m also the man am forced to be for the sake of the community.

Moving back to the DFW area would help. I really, really need to find a well-paying job. I want to build up my wardrobes, both male and female. I want to have my own place, a home where I can be free to be Stefani.

I would have to compromise some and find a welcoming body of Christians, where I can be me without fear and embarrassment. I wouldn’t renounce my beliefs, but I could also worship as the person I feel I am. It’s not ideal, perhaps, but it’s better than existing as I am, a nobody in despair.

I just don’t know where to turn to for help. I guess that’s why I’m writing, not that I expect any help. I just needed to let out some steam before I blow up.