Zooey
01-10-2016, 05:25 PM
There have been a lot of conversations here lately about the nature of transition. That some people, myself included, believe that every transition has to be same, or live up to some standard. This, at least to me, could not be further from the truth. I’m a big supporter of transition being an incredibly individualized experience. Mine certainly has been.
And yet, all transitions are not wholly unique and individual. They all share at least one incredibly fundamental thing in common. Every transition that I am aware of has come as the result of a deeply personal decision to be authentic to one’s self. To stop lying. To stop hiding. To knowingly decide to risk destroying a known life in the pursuit of living one that’s real.
I'm sharing all of this in case having yet another story available helps somebody to relate, and maybe helps them to find a way to find themselves.
I never decided to transition. I simply did.
Roughly 1.5 years ago, I made the most important decision of my life, but it was not the decision to transition. I made the decision that I could no longer ignore the issues with my gender identity that I had been dealing with (and lying about, both to myself and others) for as long as I could remember. I made a promise to myself that I would figure this out.
At the time, and since puberty, I had always considered myself a crossdresser (though I hadn’t always known that word). I always thought it was "just a kink". In retrospect, and after talking to many people for whom it IS "just a kink", there was no way that was ever true. Still, for me, it was a convenient explanation - one that did not require rocking my life boat.
I made the decision to be myself. I didn’t know who I was yet, but whoever it was, I was going to be that person. I started therapy. More importantly, I decided that I was going to be whoever I was around my friends. I wasn’t prepared to risk my relationship with my parents, or my job. My promise to myself was that outside of those situations, wherever I was going, I would present however I felt like presenting. Man, woman, androgynous - whatever I felt like. I would allow myself to be me.
I came out as “some kind of transgender; not sure exactly” to the friends I hang out with the most (6 or so people). I’m extremely fortunate that I have some really good, incredibly tolerant friends. Every time I hung out with those friends (and that group was steadily growing), I gave myself the choice of how I wanted to be seen.
Invariably, I chose to be Melissa.
I decided to start laser on my beard. Not because I decided to transition, but simply because, I thought, “I’m going to be presenting female a lot more, and this will make things easier for me.” Even if I was 50/50, I’m lazy and shaving so often and so close left my face irritated.
My therapist mostly let me talk about what I thought I was learning about myself. She asked a lot of questions. How did I feel about the idea of transition? I thought, “Oh, I don’t think THAT would be necessary. I’m just gender fluid.”
I kept going out. Laser started to work. I started noticing some feelings that I had never really paid attention to before, at least not consciously. The incredibly tangible sense of relief I had every time I saw my beard disappear under the razor. The joy I felt if I caught my eyes first in the mirror, and the sadness I felt if I saw my whole face first. I started to think back over my life, and remembered those feelings always having been there. I had always ignored them. I thought everybody had them. I remember being incredibly hurt the day my dad told me I had broad shoulders while being measured for a suit, and not really understanding why.
An Aside
Between the ages of 19 and 21, I was living in the northwest suburbs of Chicago. I had dropped out of college to take a job as a software engineer at a video game company in the city. I was living completely on my own for the first time ever, and with that came the freedom to own my own women’s clothing. At age 20, i went to a Halloween party, and I was determined to go in “drag”. My plan was to wear a pretty dress. Then the thoughts started... Well, it’s going to be awfully cold, and the party is half outdoors. It’s also on the south side of the city, which is not the best area. I’ll probably get pretty drunk, and I don’t want to have a problem with somebody I don’t know.
So that’s how I ended up wearing women’s jeans, sneakers, and fleece pullover for Halloween. Instead of “HAHA, drag, hilarious!”, the reaction was, “Who’s that kinda ugly chick?” Hearing my friend say those words as I walked up was one of the happiest moments in my life up to that point.
I sometimes think of that story and laugh. Honestly, how did I ever think I was a crossdresser?
Months had now passed since deciding to be myself. I had accepted that I was definitely not "just a crossdresser", but I would constantly tell my therapist, “Well, I’m not transitioning though.” She would smile and nod, and we'd move on. One day, while I was out with my two best girlfriends in the world, it hit me like a ton of bricks.
I was already transitioning.
Outside of work, and one incredibly painful and tear-filled trip to my parents’ for Christmas, I hadn’t left the house as anybody but Melissa for 6 months. Every time I gave myself a choice in who to be, I made the same choice. I felt the same when I made that choice in no makeup and schlubby PJs at home as I did in something cute and out and about in public.
My therapist just smiled and said, “You know, I think you’re right”. Two weeks later, I had come out to my family and started HRT. 8 months after that, I had completed my legal changes and was full-time. Once you've really deeply accepted the truth, life has a way of adapting faster than you might think possible.
It took me 35 years to finally realize who I was, and only one year to change EVERYTHING.
To the outside observer, my life is much more complicated than it used to be. Many things are harder. For me though, it has all been worth it. The biggest reason things are harder for me now is because I'm actually invested in the outcome. Since going full-time, it hurts more when people misgender me; not because I'm more sensitive, but because I finally have an identity I care about.
For the first time in pretty much ever, I'm actually caring about myself. I hope that everybody who ends up on this road can find that for themselves.
And yet, all transitions are not wholly unique and individual. They all share at least one incredibly fundamental thing in common. Every transition that I am aware of has come as the result of a deeply personal decision to be authentic to one’s self. To stop lying. To stop hiding. To knowingly decide to risk destroying a known life in the pursuit of living one that’s real.
I'm sharing all of this in case having yet another story available helps somebody to relate, and maybe helps them to find a way to find themselves.
I never decided to transition. I simply did.
Roughly 1.5 years ago, I made the most important decision of my life, but it was not the decision to transition. I made the decision that I could no longer ignore the issues with my gender identity that I had been dealing with (and lying about, both to myself and others) for as long as I could remember. I made a promise to myself that I would figure this out.
At the time, and since puberty, I had always considered myself a crossdresser (though I hadn’t always known that word). I always thought it was "just a kink". In retrospect, and after talking to many people for whom it IS "just a kink", there was no way that was ever true. Still, for me, it was a convenient explanation - one that did not require rocking my life boat.
I made the decision to be myself. I didn’t know who I was yet, but whoever it was, I was going to be that person. I started therapy. More importantly, I decided that I was going to be whoever I was around my friends. I wasn’t prepared to risk my relationship with my parents, or my job. My promise to myself was that outside of those situations, wherever I was going, I would present however I felt like presenting. Man, woman, androgynous - whatever I felt like. I would allow myself to be me.
I came out as “some kind of transgender; not sure exactly” to the friends I hang out with the most (6 or so people). I’m extremely fortunate that I have some really good, incredibly tolerant friends. Every time I hung out with those friends (and that group was steadily growing), I gave myself the choice of how I wanted to be seen.
Invariably, I chose to be Melissa.
I decided to start laser on my beard. Not because I decided to transition, but simply because, I thought, “I’m going to be presenting female a lot more, and this will make things easier for me.” Even if I was 50/50, I’m lazy and shaving so often and so close left my face irritated.
My therapist mostly let me talk about what I thought I was learning about myself. She asked a lot of questions. How did I feel about the idea of transition? I thought, “Oh, I don’t think THAT would be necessary. I’m just gender fluid.”
I kept going out. Laser started to work. I started noticing some feelings that I had never really paid attention to before, at least not consciously. The incredibly tangible sense of relief I had every time I saw my beard disappear under the razor. The joy I felt if I caught my eyes first in the mirror, and the sadness I felt if I saw my whole face first. I started to think back over my life, and remembered those feelings always having been there. I had always ignored them. I thought everybody had them. I remember being incredibly hurt the day my dad told me I had broad shoulders while being measured for a suit, and not really understanding why.
An Aside
Between the ages of 19 and 21, I was living in the northwest suburbs of Chicago. I had dropped out of college to take a job as a software engineer at a video game company in the city. I was living completely on my own for the first time ever, and with that came the freedom to own my own women’s clothing. At age 20, i went to a Halloween party, and I was determined to go in “drag”. My plan was to wear a pretty dress. Then the thoughts started... Well, it’s going to be awfully cold, and the party is half outdoors. It’s also on the south side of the city, which is not the best area. I’ll probably get pretty drunk, and I don’t want to have a problem with somebody I don’t know.
So that’s how I ended up wearing women’s jeans, sneakers, and fleece pullover for Halloween. Instead of “HAHA, drag, hilarious!”, the reaction was, “Who’s that kinda ugly chick?” Hearing my friend say those words as I walked up was one of the happiest moments in my life up to that point.
I sometimes think of that story and laugh. Honestly, how did I ever think I was a crossdresser?
Months had now passed since deciding to be myself. I had accepted that I was definitely not "just a crossdresser", but I would constantly tell my therapist, “Well, I’m not transitioning though.” She would smile and nod, and we'd move on. One day, while I was out with my two best girlfriends in the world, it hit me like a ton of bricks.
I was already transitioning.
Outside of work, and one incredibly painful and tear-filled trip to my parents’ for Christmas, I hadn’t left the house as anybody but Melissa for 6 months. Every time I gave myself a choice in who to be, I made the same choice. I felt the same when I made that choice in no makeup and schlubby PJs at home as I did in something cute and out and about in public.
My therapist just smiled and said, “You know, I think you’re right”. Two weeks later, I had come out to my family and started HRT. 8 months after that, I had completed my legal changes and was full-time. Once you've really deeply accepted the truth, life has a way of adapting faster than you might think possible.
It took me 35 years to finally realize who I was, and only one year to change EVERYTHING.
To the outside observer, my life is much more complicated than it used to be. Many things are harder. For me though, it has all been worth it. The biggest reason things are harder for me now is because I'm actually invested in the outcome. Since going full-time, it hurts more when people misgender me; not because I'm more sensitive, but because I finally have an identity I care about.
For the first time in pretty much ever, I'm actually caring about myself. I hope that everybody who ends up on this road can find that for themselves.