Transition, Determination & Weakness

Little less than two months ago, on September 21, I received my first shot for androgen suppression. The same night, my endocrinologist prescribed the estrogen pills I will be hopefully taking for the rest of my life. HRT finally started.

Just a few days ago I received  the third shot. I have been taking my pills religiously, following the doctor’s guidelines as faithfully as possible. Facial hair grows a bit slower, my breasts have started to form and I have noticed some minor changes on my facial looks. Libido has dropped significantly -that is, both my mood to have sex and ability for erection. So far things look good. It is too early to be reaching any concrete conclusions, but I like the changes. I enjoy that my body no longer demands satisfaction constantly. I like that I can see myself looking more feminine, even without dresses and make up. Finally I can go to bed and relax, knowing tomorrow will be another tiny step towards the right direction.

One of the surprising gains of HRT, even on such an early stage, is the perspective it has given me into my own world. I have managed to come to terms with the fact that I have mental health problems, only that no longer have to blame my gender identity for them.

Thoughts of suicide have not gone away. They are just thoughts with little probability of coming true, but they are here. Jumping from a roof, taking a good dose of pills, letting a stranger abuse me to death, all these ideas stay in my mind. They are not there constantly. In reality, I can mention plenty of times when I can see life from a positive perspective. I am thankful for being able to share this world with you.

Last weekend I met with a book of bibliophiles. I went to the meeting and introduced myself as a woman, talked as one, smiled as one and managed to get along and have fun with complete strangers. The same day I met with a good friend who joyfully told me how feminine I looked. We went out, gossiped and talked about anime and guys. As I was riding the subway back home, I continued writing the story I hope to publish one day. That day, from morning to night, I was myself. Happy may be too big of a word, but I felt satisfied. That is how I want to be on a daily basis, at work and personal life.

But good times need to end at some point. At my family’s home I am still closeted. I have managed to cover myself sufficiently when I want to go out as a woman -which is something that happens pretty often nowadays. While I was approaching my family’s house, still presented as female, I noticed a car similar to that of my father. “I have been seen” was my first thought. I immediately ran as fast as I could. When I got near a little park, hardly a minute or two away from my house, I hid behind a tree. I stayed there for a minute, in the dark, dressed back to male clothes and then cowardly approached my house. When I got there, everyone was asleep. No one saw me. It was all just my head playing tricks on me.

I am a 28 year old mtf. Most of the past three years, I have been unemployed. I am funding my transition with savings from past jobs. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t feel repulsed by my failure to escape. Almost three decades of life and I still have to bow my head to people who call me a man, demand me to present as such, to people who I am afraid of when I go to sleep. That is the part of myself, the scared sissy, that I consider the pathetic source of my unhappiness. It is what feeds my laziness, my disbelief that anything can change for the better.

During my teen years, I tried to kill myself several times. I was hospitalized once due to pill overdose. The thoughts have remained and I know very well that they will be inside me forever. I have come to enjoy thinking of myself hurt, but the strength to try is no longer there. That is what I call weakness. I am not able to escape my current situation and not able to take the way out. All that I can do is simply sit here and wait for the prince on a white horse. Big spoiler; he will not come. He does not exist.

HRT is doing me good. It is already helping me deal with my gender issues and look more optimistically towards the future. I cannot wait for the day I will enter my home -my real home, where I will be free and alone- without having to undress in some alley. I feel more confident to present as myself and speak my mind, to stand as a human being and yes, a woman. But it will not solve everything. And I need to start dealing with that.


Take your pen and write your story, co-traveler~

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