"The Surreal Shift"

Sometimes in the evening, after the day winds down and the house quiets, I find myself reflecting on how surreal my life as a "crossdresser" can feel.

It was a few weeks back when I last dressed fully but, for instance, I spent six hours working from home—not just in my usual sense, but as Davina. Full makeup. Shoulder-length blonde hair. Matching lingerie beneath a fitted dress. Stockings. Heels. Feminine mannerisms, soft voice, a graceful calm that settles over me.. I answered emails. I joined video calls (Camera blocked). I spoke to colleagues on the phone.

I did everything I usually do, but I did it as a woman.

No one on the other end had any idea.

And then, as the workday ended, so did that chapter.

The wig came off. The makeup was removed. I slipped back into my male self—husband, father, just a man in a football shirt and joggers making dinner or sorting out the washing. (Modern man me)

The shift is always a little jarring, and yet—strangely peaceful. Because something of Davina lingers for a bit longer.

I’m calmer, softer, lighter. And no one knows the reason behind that shift, apart from my wife. She sees it. She senses it. And while I know she still struggles with parts of my crossdressing—the fears, the stigma, the “what ifs”—I think she understands this:

Davina gives me peace and that stress busting escape...

It’s mad when I stop to think about it.

Earlier that day, I was walking around the house in high heels, chatting on Teams with colleagues, running the show—in a dress and snapping a few pics for Flikr to recollect the day.

Now I’m doing the dishes before my wife is home from work wiping the worktops and asking what the kids want for tea.

But that’s my reality. It might be surreal, but it’s real.

Davina.