Some days I think that I'm ok. Days when dysphoria seems like a distant nightmare. Days when I just do the things that needs doing in my day-to-day life, without any thought about gender. Days where I might admit that I'm non-binary, but where this transmasculine need to transition, to be seen as a man, seems bizarre. Days where I don't care that I have boobs. And then I question whether I'm really trans at all. Or at least trans enough to go through all this stuff, to look into starting testosterone and all of that. I wonder if I might have been wrong. Maybe it's just another bout of depression, nothing more, and I'm clinging to this gender thing as a convenient explanation or excuse.
And then something happens.
Doesn't have to be anything big. And I don't even realize it straight away.
Today, it was a woman I didn't know coming to pick up some small items that I was selling online. She rang the doorbell, I opened and gave her the things. We chatted amicably for a minute or two. And that was it.
This morning I felt fine. Had lots of energy, felt fairly content, things were fine. And afterwards, I felt so incredibly drained. So tired, so exhausted.
It wasn't until a few hours later that it "clicked". I felt so exhausted because of overwhelming dysphoria. Because I knew that woman saw me as another woman. If she'd seen someone more masculine when I'd opened the door, I don't think I would have reacted the same way at all.
And it hits me, that "no". I'm not ok. I'm not always aware of how shitty I feel, and in a way that's a good thing.. Or I probably wouldn't be able to function in my day-to-day life, to be a good parent to my children. But I'm not ok. That "ok" is a veneer, so paper-thin, that it cracks under ANY sort of scrutiny.
So no, I'm not ok. And I'm still trans.
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