this might be something beautiful

“What am I really waiting for?”, I asked myself today on the subject of starting hormone replacement therapy. Recently, in response to friendly inquiry concerning said therapy, I have developed criteria that i must satisfy before allowing myself to start testosterone.

  1. I must be out to everyone. Parents, co-workers, friends, etc.
  2. I must be in great shape.
  3. I must have waited a decent amount of time between coming out (this past May) and the time I start.

What this list really says to me is that I must be establishing arbitrary conditions for myself that are letting me drag my feet. I’m really waiting because often I have doubts about my trans identity. They often go like this; is this really my life? Is this just a phase? Did my given name really never feel comfortable? How did I hide in plain sight for so long?  It has taken the better part of my life – up until about last week – to realize that even the strongest of our ranks question themselves sometimes. In fact, I found that such behavior might even be healthy…

Well, hold the fucking phone. The moment my brother told me that he had doubts about legally changing his name and starting hormones the sky crashed down on me. Rather, the ground rose up to meet me. It spoke: “turns out you are not alone”. I have been waiting to seriously consider starting testosterone because of my own uncertainty and it is one of the hardest things to admit. Why do I not want to make myself happier? Because I am less than 4000% sure. Close only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades – or does it count for transfolk too? When is the point that the use of empirical data is eclipsed by blind leaps of faith?

I am easily over-whelmed; this I know to be true. One batch of seasonal transpanic quickly boils over into total shut-down. There is no sensation quite like the feeling of bursting out of your own skin. If I were pressed, dear wordpress, to describe it, I might queue a cartoon where a character was actively running into a sheet of rubber trying to break through it. I’ve spent many hours in front of the mirror telling myself that this is my body for better or worse. It helps. The knowledge that greater solace is a few shots away marinates in my mind and infuses my thoughts. “After you start T…” the story goes.

I need to knock down these arbitrary conditions and examine my real apprehensions about testosterone. Worst case scenario, it is reversible. I know it’s not magical, but watching it work its magic on my brothers and friends has been enough of a marketing strategy.

I wouldn’t have gotten this far if I was wrong. (Right?)

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