Today, I have been on hormone replacement therapy for three months. These past three months have been amazing and educational, not only for me, but for heaps of people around me as well. In the last three months, I have learned that I can wear colors other than black and variants thereof. I’ve learned what it feels like to actually have a body that belongs to me. I’ve learned that, for the most part so far, people are super rad and understanding.
Of course, I’m forgetting things, too. Trust me, this is for the best. I’m forgetting the distance that I used to feel that used to be the rift between me and me. I’m forgetting how to hide my personality for the sake of others. I’m forgetting so much of the pain and confusion that defined me for so long. I have also forgotten how to play Rock Band well. I am working on trying to remember that one. The rest of that crap can go fuck itself at high velocity.
I’m not sure how much sense it makes to those who’ve never really felt the gravity of gender dysphoria, but I feel complete finally for the first time. It is so hard to explain not only the internal distance, but also the effects of that distance to those who haven’t really questioned their gender identity. It’s not really relatable to any one metaphor or allegory, or even most words for that matter, because it’s so broad and so encompassing and so oppressive that trying to put the intense depression of loss for something that was never there seems inadequate. I’ve tried to tell people, and I know that folks generally understand what it’s about, but for me it’s different. No matter how visceral I get with the description or how many synonyms for ‘god-fucking-awful’ I use, I always feel that I’ve missed some vital aspect of the gender dysphoria when I try and describe it to others.
It’s hard to pick out which part of the distance is most important to share in order to get across that feeling to those who don’t feel it. Of course, it’s hard because everything is intertwined and bound so tightly that explaining even one small string of it runs the risk of unravelling the whole mess, and, quite frankly, that is a hell of a lot to explain even to the most curious of audiences. Heck, I can’t even explain it completely to myself, but when I think of what gender dysphoria means to me I get a tight feeling everywhere all at once and a sense that something dangerous and horrible used to lurk around every dark corner of my mind. I was terrified of myself for so long, and I had no idea why. No wonder I was an absolute shit to be around for those many years.
It’s better now. A million times better. It’s not enough yet to erase the sickening visceral reaction or the fear or the sense of doom completely, but it’s getting there.
To date, I have taken approximately 24,000mg of spironolactone, and more or less 720mg of estradiol. Of course, when put that way, no wonder things have changed so much. I used to be much more reserved about my transition, and was really protective of the pictures I sent out at irregular intervals. It’s a bit different now, because playing hide and seek against myself for that long gets a bit tiring.
On a practical note, weather permitting, I’m going to get a few new holes in my ears tonight. I’m sure there is a joke about ‘getting a new hole’ somewhere in there, but I’ll leave the dirty jokes up to you today. Besides, I got a plastic guitar to relearn.
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