The Thrill is Gone?

"Look at the graceful way she dances,
One foot speaks, the other answers"
"Ghost Train" Elvis Costello

I've been pursuing this crossdressing/transgender thing avidly for roughly 18 months now. Yet, I find myself at a place I never expected. In a word, settled.

The realization began with an observation. It occurred to me that every night, as I leave work around 1am, I get a wave of dysphoria on the drive home. It just wells up in me for twenty or thirty seconds, then it's gone just as quickly. What is it about heading home that brings this feeling to the surface?

I do a number of things to keep my dysphoric feelings in check, to keep the beast well-fed and lethargic. I underdress five or six days a week. I shave select parts of my body (though not near enough). I trim and bleach the hair on my arms. I'm still wearing very pale polish on my toenails, and I seem to be the only one noticing. (@ Suzi: Revlon Sheer Snowflake Pink)

And in spite of all these rituals, I find that I'm really not all that interested in dressing fully of late. I used to rush home, feed the animals, and run downstairs to slip on a skirt, top, and heels before I hit the web. Now, I just hit the web as is. It doesn't seem to be worth the effort to dress. And it isn't that much effort, in my primitive, non-madeup, alone in the basement fashion.

In my mind, there are two possible conclusions (I sense that others will be suggested). It could just be a cyclical thing, a respite before the intense feelings come calling again. Or, it may be that the limits I have on my self-expression have played themselves out, and I need to escalate in order to retrieve this part of me. Why do I miss this slow torture? A sane person would be rejoicing, happy to have time to pursue other interests. And I feel like I want my journey of self-discovery to broaden and continue, with more Leslie time, not less.