I take such a huge amount of pride in the fact that I'm a transgender male. It's one of the things I love most about myself. In the beginning I hated it and was ashamed to say I was born female. After some time and reflection, I now embrace this gift I was born with and see it as a blessing in disguise. I believe I was born transgender because I am strong enough to be. I was born with a voice that I will never silence and I will use my journey to encourage others to take their lives into their own hands, to never give up on their journey to self-love, and most importantly, to not ever care about what anyone else has to think. I love being who I am, but trust me when I say it's not always rainbows and sunshine.
Being Trans is not fun. Being Trans should not be glorified. My battle is far from over. Though through the weekly injections of testosterone and receiving top surgery, my confidence has sky rocketed, I still have days where I want to crawl back into bed and not show myself to anyone in fear I still appear as the person I was before I took the plunge and started to transition. I feel as if everyone spectating my crazy journey thinks now that I'm on testosterone, removed my chest, changed my name, and embraced the physical changes from hormone replacement that everything is happy go lucky. Maybe that's my fault, because while I am very open about my transition, I fail to show the world my bad days. I know now that bad days do not make you weak, they always come with a reason and they're here to strengthen you. You cannot have just good or bad days, you need to embrace both energies. Transitioning and being on testosterone has blessed me in more ways than I'll ever be able to count.
My "bad days" as I call them, are the days where my body dysmorphia comes back like an old friend and consumes all my thoughts. It creeps up out of nowhere and consumes me. It's incredibly unpredictable. One minute I could feel like the manliest and most attractive man that's alive and breathing, walking on air, untouchable. The next I'm inside, hiding myself away from the rest of the world, feeling like a freak. On these bad days, I try to avoid my reflection as much as possible, for when I do catch a glimpse of it suddenly I am transported back to the days before I started transitioning. I see the face of the girl I did everything in my power to erase and run away from. I hear her high pitched voice when I talk, no longer the voice testosterone has blessed me with. I look down and I see the lumps protruding from my chest, the ones I paid so much to have so painfully removed. Not only do I see what I used to be staring back at me in the mirror but the thoughts that she had come rushing into my head as well. On these bad days, I feel as if I'm wearing a mask, the mask is who I was pre-testosterone and these suffocating thoughts try their hardest to convince me that it's not a mask at all, it's who I really am, it's who everyone sees when they look at me. On these bad days, I feel like I am drowning again, my world loses its color, the sun doesn't shine.
On these bad days, I feel such an overwhelming sense of guilt at the fact that I went to such extreme measures to no longer be that person I was over two years ago. I feel the most guilt when I think about my mother. I think about the daughter she thought she would have for the rest of her life, the same daughter I never was and no longer could pretend to be. When I walk around shirtless, which, let's be honest, is 90% of the time, because I am finally able to do that, I want to cover myself when I see my mother. I feel terrible that I spent so much time and money to remove the chest of the body that she sacrificed so much for. I know she doesn't, but I feel as if she looks at my scars as a constant reminder of the daughter she lost while I look at them as trophies, or that I've earned my stripes. I know they'll love me endlessly no matter who I am, but I feel guilty for my friends who are now just as prone to receiving hateful and ignorant comments about having a "tranny" friend. Regardless of how much she reassures me this isn't and won't ever be the case, I feel guilty for my girlfriend who will now have to explain to her family why the man she's bringing home had to fight a little extra to get to where he is. On my bad days, I am nothing but sorry and apologetic for doing what I did.
Then I snap out of it. I realize how ridiculous it all sounds. I know the man I am is the man I was always supposed to be. I know the journey I'm on is exactly the one destined for me. I know all who love me, love me for all that I am. I know I am incredible, I know I am powerful. I know I'm here and I am who I am for a reason. I know every step I took, though they might have been difficult, were the right ones and only made me stronger. Transitioning and being on testosterone has blessed me in more ways than I'll ever be able to count. I never dreamed that I would ever achieve the level of confidence that I have now. I take so much pride in who I am and the body I so luckily get to call home. Taking the plunge to transition, though incredibly scary, was easily the best thing I could have ever done for myself, mind, body, and soul. Though it did not and could not solve all of my problems, transitioning, without question, saved my life. I'm so thankful to wake up every day and ride this wild roller coaster that is my now beautiful life.
I'm so happy to be here.
No matter what your struggle is, you need to know that life is worth it.
You are worth it.
