As indicated at the end of Chapter 2, a deep clinical depression set in during the year 1973. I was out of school, looking for a job related to either of two careers that I wished to investigate. The few friends that I had had in high school had exited from my life. No friends, no workmates, only family. I was a nineteen year-old "man". Things were not good!

Too many things were lining up. The only problem was that they were lining up the wrong way.

• At 6’-1" height, I was too tall for a woman.
• My body was covered head-to-foot with hair. I always thought that I could give a gorilla a run for its money, in the fur department.
• My Adam’s Apple was so prominent that some people thought that I had a goiter.
• A very severe case of acne was taking a toll on the skin of my face, back, front, and arms.
• I had no contact with any of my previous friends. Making new friends, with me still a "man", did not interest me.
• Too much time was on hand. Time to reflect on my life was in abundance. The reflection showed too much negativity.
• Not sure of what career that I wanted to pursue. I had narrowed the options to either electrical engineering or astrophysics.

I took a position with an audio equipment manufacturer, starting at minimum wage, doing a job that I was not keen on. Each day began with an hour trek to work, using "the better way." The day would then be filled with mind-numbing testing of the audio amplifiers. After I had cleared away the backlog of amplifiers to be tested, I was afforded the opportunity to learn how to test and align the AM tuners in the audio component systems. Then I had the task of clearing away the backlog of units to test the AM tuners in, which came from the amplifier tester. Oh great! I just moved the backlog from the audio amplifier section, which I was still testing, to the AM tuner test bench. And then on to the FM test bench.

The hour-long trek into, and home from, work had afforded a lot more time to wallow in self-pity and to be depressed.

Eventually, the union (which I had refused to join) managed to extort a "closed shop" status -- all workers had to be union members. Having no wish to join the union, I parted company with my first job.

Then for the next few months, while looking for a new job, there was lots of time to afford to the negative reflection of my life. In the summer of of 1974, I took a position at a catalogue shop, working as a shipper/receiver/clerk. The position was not challenging, affording even more time to be depressed. The plus side of this position was it was only about a 15-minute walk from home -- less time wallow in self-pity.

After several months, the company wanted to move me up to the store manager position (replacing my boss, who was moving up.) Since the job was not in a career that I wanted, I declined and we agreed to part company. Oh great, more time to reflect.

In the fall of 1975, I took a position with Control Data Canada Ltd. My position was technical technician (as opposed to nontechnical technician.) I spent the days testing, troubleshooting, and sometimes repairing computer mainframe modules. My interest in the new microprocessor technology led to my being loaned to the Manufacturing Engineering department. Although my time was now being filled with work that required more thought, there was still much time to reflect. This is especially true for the two hours in the morning travelling to work on the buses and for the two hours for the return trip.

So, I moved closer to work, finally leaving my parents home. I replaced the twice-daily, two-hour trips with oodles of time at my new home. My depression didn’t change much, as there was still far too much time to reflect on my life.

In the fall of 1980, the company started re-training their systems technicians to work on the newer models of the mainframes. By agreement between my manager and me, I was the last to be re-trained. When the time came for me to be re-trained, I left to continue my education.

So, in the spring of 1981, I took some high school subjects, to meet the entrance requirements for university. The schooling was not a significant consumer of my time. Yes, you guess right -- more time to be depressed.

In the fall of 1981, I started the electrical engineering program at the University of Waterloo. Still in male mode. Still perpetually depressed. However, course work soon demanded most of my waking hours, and some of my sleeping hours. The depression eased, as I didn’t have the time to reflect on my life.

At UW, the engineering program is a co-op program, where the student spends alternating study terms and work terms. Each term is four months long. Whether on a study term or on a work term, my time was taken up with doing engineering work. As a consequence, my mood improved. There was just not enough time to wallow in self-pity.

Following graduating from UW in 1989, I took a junior engineer position at a local consulting engineering firm. I took an apartment in north Waterloo. The job and my residence allowed me to explore other aspects of my life. Once again, I took up cross-dressing while at home. This provided some relief. The relief was short-lived. Soon the cross-dressing was no longer comforting. My depression returned.

In February 1992, the company was in a slump and had to lay off some of its workers. Yes, I was one of those laid off. The company had barely enough work for one electrical engineer and I was the junior (second) electrical engineer. Hungry for work and not getting far with job interviews, I started my own company. Then, something wonderful happened. My former employer kept hiring me back, under contract, to do AutoCAD work, helping out the CAD department. I also did some electrical engineering for them. What was wonderful? I was being paid more per hour, and I had enough work to keep me charging overtime. Less time for me to wallow.

In the meantime, a new employer expressed interest in hiring me full-time. They had me in for a few interviews. They offered me a position, which I took. Lots of overtime consumed my time. Yes, that meant less time for depression, although it was still present. By this time, I was no longer cross-dressing, as it was no longer providing any relief.

My story continues in Cassie’s Herstory Chapter 4. Things start changing radically at this point.

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