I'm autistic

Yesterday, I was officially given the diagnosis that I've long suspected could be mine: Autism. 

I tried getting diagnosed through the public health care system, but they just denied me. Repeatedly. And whilst self-diagnosis is valid, it doesn't (unfortunately) carry the weight of an official diagnosis. So I had to go privately, getting a full test done from a private neuro-psychologist. 

We spent half a day talking, half a day taking various tests (for IQ, working memory, executive function, concentration etc). Then another hour, at another appointment, doing some mental health screenings. In the end, she told me what I already knew: I'm autistic. 

The primary feeling is that of relief. I've known this for a few years, but getting it verified from a professional carries much more weight. I feel like I'm "allowed" to struggle now. That I have a proper reason, other than low willpower or laziness. My struggles feel... Justified. 

She also told me that she'd expect me to have 80% work capacity, given optimal circumstances and nothing else that "steals" from my capacity. But I have kids. And I'm trans, suffer from gender dysphoria. Those two factors obviously reduce my capacity. In addition, I have a job where I'm expected to attend meetings, talk to people all day, and generally be social. That's exactly the opposite of the sort of job the specialist thinks of as "optimal" for me. And I agree. 

An optimal job for me would be one where I could work mostly by myself, in my own little office. Where I could control the lights, where I could control the noise level (and kind of noise), and most importantly: Where I didn't have to talk to people much. Where the work was intellectually challenging and interesting, but familiar and predictable. Where I knew the other people, where I knew and trusted my boss, and where I could work from home some days per week. Anything other than this, would steal capacity from me. Make my real ability to work even less than 80%.

Up until now, I've worked in a people-oriented job. I've not only attended a lot of meetings and phone calls, I've also forced myself to be social with my co-workers. Coffee breaks, lunch breaks, never a moment alone to just.. Breathe. I've worked in an open office-space, with people all around. I COULD borrow an office, but we have an "empty desk"-policy and many people want to use those offices. So I can never feel safe there, it can never be truly mine.

It's only logical that having forced myself to work 100% under those conditions, I'd fail again and again and again. Struggle with mental health problems again, and again. To hear her say that I shouldn't expect myself to function in a full-time job felt like a blessing. A permission to just.. Exist. Breathe. Not perform all the time. Not try to be more than I am. 

I'm so relieved to have been given this diagnosis. I'm so happy to be able to call myself, officially, autistic.

A long and winding road

I recently read this post, and it really struck a nerve. It made me think back on my own journey, and take stock of where I am now. 

The second anniversary to my egg crack passed almost without notice. So did my "1,5 years on T" date in September. My second cracking, when I realized I was transmasc, was on December 2nd two years ago. That date is coming quickly too.

And while I do still think about these things, it feels like my identity has... settled... more. I'm not as much in a million pieces, like I was just after egg crack. I've picked myself up, put myself back together as a new sort of mosaic, and I'm staring to get comfortable with the pattern. It's not as new, not as frightening. 

That voice in my head, the gremlin that kept questioning whether I might not really be trans.. It's quieter now. Doesn't speak up as often, or as loudly. It's not gone. I don't think it'll ever be completely gone. But I've accepted it, just like I've more or less accepted the rest of me. After all; it could be right. I might have just fooled myself into thinking I was trans. I might regret this later. 

I might. I find it highly unlikely, but I might. 

And then what? 

Well, then I'll probably transition back. Partly, or all the way. And that's ok too. At least I did what I could to try to be happy now. If I change my mind, I'll do what I can to try to be happy then. I'd rather try, and regret it, than regret never having tried at all. 

Today is Transgender Day of Remembrance, where we remember our trans siblings that have been lost to anti-trans violence or suicide. I've never been actively suicidal, but statistically almost 40% of my trans siblings have seriously considered suicide in the past year. Mental health improves, statistically, if we are accepted by our family and friends. And I am. 

I've been immensely lucky, in this respect. I can imagine how much harder this journey towards self-acceptance would be, if I was all alone. If people didn't accept and respect me for who I really am. I can imagine, and I shy away from that thought. Because I'm already struggling. Not suicidal, no. I don't think I will become suicidal either. But my mental health isn't all that great.

So while my journey towards self acceptance feels calmer now, less bumpy, less scary, less unfamiliar.. It's still a long, and dark, and winding road. I stumble occasionally, because I'm really, really tired. I love how everything feels more settled now, but I still want more of that. More predictably, more security, more stability. Knowing both where I am, and where I was going. That would be nice.

My girlfriend

I can FINALLY talk about it: I have a girlfriend. 

Not a new person in my life. Not at all. Novice is my girlfriend. We've been together for almost a year now. She's a trans woman, and I couldn't write that here because she wasn't out to everyone yet. I've had to misgender her on this blog for the past year, using they/them pronouns for her. Now she's out, so I can finally be truthful about her here as well.

I'm so happy for her. I know how difficult it is to be deadnamed and misgendered all the time. How much of a relief it is to finally hear your own name, to dress in your own clothes, and to hear the proper pronouns. I'm also super proud of her. She's had a much longer and harder road than I had, and she's made it through. 

I'm also really happy for me, because now I don't have to keep misgendering her to everyone. It's really, really stressful for me, to keep secrets like this from everyone. I kept worrying I'd slip up, by accident. So her coming out now is a big relief to me as well. 

Most of all, I just love her.

Her body has changed a lot since starting estrogen, and I love it. I was attracted to her before too, but now... Damn! Her breasts, especially, are triggering Feelings in me I didn't know I could have. I hated my own, to the point where I needed to have them removed.. But touching hers, grabbing them, or just simply holding them.. It bypasses any logical thought or conscious feeling, and runs a lighting rod straight to my groin. 

"So, I guess I might like women..." has become a running gag with us, and for a good reason. I still struggle to truly, emotionally accept that I'm into women. It's been two years now, since my queer awakening, but still.. It feels dangerous. Forbidden. Scary. Sometimes I just sit next to her on the couch and marvel at her face, so feminine and beautiful. I can't quite believe that this gorgeous woman is my girlfriend. That I get to cuddle up with her several days per week. That she seems to want to be with me too. I'm scared, but also happy. There's a lot of feelings, all jumbled together. Mostly, though, there's love.

It's been a bumpy road, I won't deny it. We still struggle sometimes; we misunderstand each other or get stuck in a communicative rut. But it's worth it, at least to me. I love her, both her mind and her body. I'm so grateful, so happy, that she wants to be with me. My girlfriend. My love. Novice.

Lack of representation

I'm starting to notice the lack of representation. And it bothers me more than I was prepared for.

Basically, while living as a woman (remember: I thought I was cis until I was 35), I was used to society glorifying the female form. You know, the "male gaze". Sexy women are everywhere, like statues, commercials, on tv etc. My relationship to my own body was basically: "I enjoy people finding me attractive", but I didn't love myself at all. 

As I grow more masculine, I loose this representation. I don't see people who look anything like me, being seen as hot. As desirable. As beautiful. Nor do I hear it much. We don't compliment men or man-adjacent people, the same way we do women. Especially not "dad bod" types like me. 

And so I start to question my own desirability... Not because I regret transitioning (I don't!), but because I've lost that representation that I used to take for granted... I always hated my body, but at least I knew some people would find me sexy. Now I don't hate my body as much. On the contrary, I occasionally see things I think is sexy about myself.. Yet I don't feel desirable, because I've lost that representation and attention that I was used to. 

I might like myself better, but does anyone else? Can anyone look at me and find me sexy? Beautiful? Desirable? Get turned on by my appearance?

Liking myself more isn't enough. I would like others to desire me too.