notesfromatransition

[notesfromatransition]

Slow Starts

On Feb. 2, five days ago, I went to Planned Parenthood and left with a prescription for testosterone gel packets. It was a cold and overcast day. I entered the building tense, a couple minutes late, my mind full of white noise which for me signals the cusp of dissociation. I left feeling as light as I have ever felt. Giddy, free, like I'd just gotten away with something wonderful. The air was damp. It felt good on my face, felt good when I breathed in. I didn't need anything else in that moment to tell me I was moving in the direction of joy.

This was not the first time I've made a step in the direction of hormone therapy, but it is the first time I've gone far enough to get a prescription. For as far back as I can remember I've been, shall we say, unsettled in my assigned gender. The level of distress this has caused has been a constant hum which occasionally (all right, more than occasionally) rises to an all-consuming drone which drowns everything else out. My sense of self is eroded, worn down to nothing but distress, a trapped animal feeling. My relationships suffer, my work, my ability to take care of everyday tasks. When did I realize this had to do with gender? From the very start, I think. When was I able to acknowledge that? Not until much later.

It's taken years to get to this point. In the meantime, I've tried to talk my way out of feeling this way. Tried to intellectualize myself out of the truth. I've read and read and read accounts of varied gender identity, from people whose transitions have taken all sorts of forms and degrees. I've tried to convince myself that I'm not like them, even as I seek out yet another story to connect with. I've called and made appointments I later cancelled, not ready to take that next step, to make my internal feelings external. Now that I've done so, it's scary. It's also maybe the most exciting thing I've ever done. I don't have the testosterone yet--it's not in stock at my pharmacy, so until I have it in my hands, I'm stuck in this state of high anticipation that feels a lot like the worst of my anxiety, only this time, I want the future to happen. Maybe more than I've ever wanted anything. It's been difficult to function in my everyday life, while waiting secretly to begin the next stage of this process I've set myself on. I don't know what happens next and I can't wait to find out.