I promised myself that I’d entered a new phase of my transition, where I don’t need to make any more major decisions, just cruise wherever. I guess that’s true, but the process doesn’t stop.
An increased dose of finasteride obliterates traces of testosterone derivatives from my bloodstream. The veins in my hands have faded and receded, and my fingers are noticeably fleshier. Someone quipped that I might be able to sleep on my stomach again, someday.
My nightmares are not so vivid anymore and I can sleep. It seems too good to be true.
But I’m blindsided by a sudden loss of some component of my identity, then immersed in paradoxical need for both quiet and emotional support.
I wish someone would’ve written about this shit in a little more detail, because I did not see this coming.
I told a friend that I am transgender. He said he doesn’t know anything about it but that it sounds great. I was taken aback. My girlfriend said the same thing, that my trans-ness is not a problem, that it is good. It doesn’t seem that simple.
Yes, realizing who I am is like standing under a waterfall in 120 degree heat, an overwhelming and unparalleled experience of joy, so epic, so wonderful; it brings me to tears. I love myself. But I miss humanity. I miss the simple pleasure of watching a movie and saying, “me too.” I miss meeting new people and really getting to know them. I feel fortunate now to keep the friends I have. It’s daunting.
I am lonelier than I’ve ever been. I feel disconnected from people and places that I’ve known. I can’t remember their names. It feels like five years have passed and it’s only been eight months.
Yet, I feel a strange and powerful sense of achievement. Yes, I am a woman. I feel confident in myself and my abilities, more human, more complete. But it costs. I feel like I’m in outer space, that I have achieved the unachievable and am so far away from where I started that nothing matters.
Sometimes I dream that I am an astronaut on another planet. When I look back home to Earth, it is the only place I want to be.
Awake, I promise myself that I will find my home someday, somewhere I can feel a part of. It’s so far away.