I am sitting on an emotional swing. Each day it gets more intense. Genetic females have had a lot longer than me to come to terms with the rollercoaster of moods but everyone who experiences it has to start somewhere. I can’t ‘man it out’ anymore, 40 days and 40 nights of HRT and I’m already losing subjective cognition of my testronic existence; slowly the maleness falls from grasp.
I’ve had to ask friends to remind me sometimes that I’m just going through the side effects. Again, I don’t know if it is because I started hormones, or their actual effects, but doors are unlocking in my mind. I’ve really learned about friendships I’ve needlessly strived for that are beyond their sell by date – I visited one of the old friends I’m having to let go of and noticed for the first time in a long friendship the light behind her eyes that process any way to avoid talking about either of our real issues. A year after the fact I finally recognized the emotional abuse that is still a large cause of suffering from my last relationship – I told those close to me and they say they knew for a long time, they tried to tell me.
There are other revelations now that force me into a new life. A cornucopia of general life issues coupled with constant hormonality combine into painful birth squeezes of a new life; the water broke, the contractions are more frequent, powerful – there’s no stopping it, it is coming.
My aesthetic transition is really suffering now, not just because of facial hair but because of the emotional pressure. I spoke to a woman who apparently had GRS but lives satisfactorily as a male without heavy dysphoria, content in the knowledge she is female. Hearing this struck a chord and she said there were only a few in many years she had met who are like this. Again, when I was a young child I wasn’t thinking about sneaking into my mother’s room for clothes and make up, I was trying to get rid of my penis, not as a Skoptic, but because I was female.
I don’t really care often enough who knows I am female so long as I do, and the people I care about do. It still hurts to be called by masculine terms, but I feel I’m constantly facing off between constant counterbalancing weights of dysphoria. It’s less urgent, but I’m still thinking about and I wonder if I can ever come to peace.
After some diligent sleuthing by Mia, we found that this woman had in fact de-transitioned because she had passing issues and other issues that are her business. I myself am not trying to cop out of transition, although it really is taking time finding my way. There is much more to the story with this woman for another time.
The point I want to make here is that it is important to be gentle with yourself. On top of everything going on in life, there are also the unquenchable effects of cross sex hormone therapy and trying to figure out how to transition and do it in a world that isn’t always happy to let you live your life. Even without external grief, the internal experience is such a battle that I can understand putting oneself at risk.
I feel the level of personal risk is the same, but different in nature. I’m just as on edge, I’m crying like crazy, freaking out, hating the world. I was so wrong about the crying; cries feel different, more frequent, because as before I cried when I was desperate, now I cry because I need to cry. It needs to come out just as I need to talk more about stuff – if I don’t vent, I break down. I’m notoriously bad for talking about my issues with people, now I have to. Afterwards, I don’t feel as bad as I would before, sometimes I just switch and I feel good again for a while.
I have less violent urges, lower sex drive, lower sexual functioning. After a week without an erection or a real desire for release I decided to try and force it. After a long time of distraction and confusion about what I was doing with what I was touching I got there and it was as arbitrary as expected from something so forced. Straight afterwards I grabbed a toffee crisp from the fridge and bit into it. The chocolate made my senses explode! I loved chocolate and was iffy about sex anyway but the gulf widened considerably and that’s just what happens sometimes. Now I don’t have ‘morning wood’ so much as I have ‘morning tofu.’
I was naive in not listening to other women way ahead on HRT, I thought I was special, aware enough, emotionally centred enough to beat back the waves of hormonal change. Don’t get me wrong, it’s only like that sometimes, often enough I feel as good as I ever have.
I was really worried about how much my emotions would intensify and whether it would put me in more danger, and it is hard, it is very hard.
My mind is working overtime absorbing all this new emotional information. Sometimes I panic, other times I am just a sponge for information and beautifully contemplative thoughts that will take a long time to unravel.
Tough as it is, I rejoice in the new challenge, the new lease of life. This is a perfect time for realisations that lead to effecting positive personal change that will fuel hopefully the release of a lifetime of untapped potential for the rest of my lifetime’s emotional strength.
This is only the beginning, it has to hurt to get better, this is how we heal. We show ourselves now in survival so we can prosper when we come to truly thrive.