I could use all the help I could get on this thread, so please drop a reply if you can - even if it's just a sentence or two. I'm new to these forum things, and this website has validated a lot of my feelings. I'm hoping the responses can help validate my existence and my will to even bother with who I am anymore.
I'm Elliott, 17, and the most two-faced FtM to walk the earth. I'm one of the lucky ones who has no recollection of a single memory before, like, age 7. I'll keep my life summary short; grew up with first memories of divorcing parents, had no memory of gender dysphoria (I simply just liked whatever I liked regardless of gender... god I miss these times), and basically just had fun as a kid. I really don't ever remember being gender-eccentric - ever. I never forgot this video I watched once of an FtM explaining that his gender dysphoria wasn't very prevalent in his younger years either due to the fact that he just understood that growing up, he just was "supposed"/conditioned to do girl things because he simply just viewed himself as one of the girls - you just did girl things because he was taught he was a girl and he never really thought/questioned it. The same applies to me. My dysphoria was prevalent years later on. Although, my mom would tell me I would fight to put on dresses when I was younger. I've never honestly liked wearing them, but I never thought about the possibility of being a boy. I just thought dresses were lame on me, not because they were for girls. At least I think.
Skip ahead to age 11, I'm ashamed to say that I was actually excited to get my period - just because it was something else that everybody else had, and I wanted one. I didn't want it as a validation as a woman (at least I don't recall), but funny enough, I did want the boobs. Not big ones. Just to see what they were like. So my first period came the day before my 12th birthday (yay) and I was just like... "oh, that's it?" No dysphoria. Just... okay, it is what it is. I did tell my stepmother however, still having some excitement of a new personal thing. But I've never been excited about another period since; I don't even ever talk about mine and cringe when someone asks me about my "cycle" or even says the damn word. Don't even make me think of tampons. The boobs started coming in and I don't recall any excitement about that either. Just a "oh... hey there." No hate. No dysphoria. However, the second someone would point them out, I would grow furious. My dad even did it once and I screamed at him. I was dysphoric that someone would even acknowledge them. I just only ever wanted to keep the fact that I had boobs to me, myself, and I... and any future boyfriend I would have.
But summing up ages womb to 12, I was eccentric around "girl" things with not many issues. I liked boy bands (most of my humor is ancestral to my One Direction fandom days), I wore clothes that I assumed I was supposed to wear, would sometimes get excited to wear a nice bra... but underlying, I couldn't care for most other things. I HATED shoes that showed my feet, grew to HATE painting my nails/having to get my hair done, was excited to be the only female alto in chorus, felt confident in being taller/having bigger hands/feet than my female friends, never wanted to talk about boys with them/dating, and never made any male friends... (biggest regret to this day.)
Around age 13, middle school, I discovered a YouTuber that identified as genderfluid. That blew my mind. I didn't even know that was a possibility. The part that I still cling to about discovering this YouTuber was that I never immediately right after thought, "Hey, maybe that's me!" Literally the very next night, my stepmom took me bra shopping and I just kept thinking to myself "no more of this." Now, if I was genderfluid, I wouldn't mind the bra shopping, right? I mean, at some point, I was going to swing back over to my female side and be comfortable with bra shopping. But I just wanted the damn night to be over. I stuffed them in the back of my drawer and hardly wore them (unless it was the - you guessed it - sports bra). I used to run in gym with no bra on (typing that is the equivalent of the feeling of bending back your nails) and would cry when people pointed out I needed to wear a bra. "NEVER" I thought. Once again, my memory is terrible, and I'm not 100% sure if that's what I was thinking in the moment, but I'm definitely thinking it now and my thought process hasn't changed much since then, so I'd assume so. Speaking of gym, I would NEVER change in front of the other girls. I would always change behind the shower curtains. To this day, I still don't change in front of anyone, not even close female relatives. I would always have this underlying depression that I would do such things like that and the fact that people would question me why, but I was embarrassed of telling them that I was questioning my gender. I would have VERY FAINT "male" thoughts such as "I know the boys' changing room probably smells like burnt garlic and death, but I'd honestly rather be in there," and not just because I was attracted to them. I wouldn't touch a high school boy with a twenty-foot pole. I just didn't want the world to know that I had boobs, or that I was even in there. But once again, I didn't know what dysphoria was. The faint "boy" thoughts just started creeping in.
I feel like this is the part where I should mention that I'm black, adding a big fat cherry on top to the confusing, crumbling cake that is my life story. Therefore, when I would try and experiment more with "boyish" styles, I would honestly get quite upset that I didn't ever look like the white guys. I mean, come on, I was on the entire opposite of the spectrum in terms of gender and race, and there I was... a mess. Anyways, I just felt like this was a part that I struggled with that still underlies today: internalized racism and transphobia.
Back then, I only felt dysphoric feelings when I was in situations that I had to acknowledge the feelings, i.e. the changing rooms, occasionally girls' bathroom dilemmas (as much as it kills me now, back then it wasn't as bad because stalls are a transman's best friend), having to get my hair done, going clothes shopping... all that. Other than that, I was a workaholic and perfectionist for filming and storytelling. In fact, I got so deep into it that I was convinced that my dysphoric feelings were merely a phase (at that time, I hadn't even associated the terms "trans" and "dysphoria" with myself), and I was able to perfect some skills of mine. I started buying feminine clothes here and there, but NEVER in front of anyone else. Only ever off Amazon. My occasional interest in feminine clothes had to be a secret because at that point, everyone knew that I was only ever shopping in the men's section (but I wasn't out as trans).
Then earlier this year of 2018, after I was convinced the male phase was gone for good, it came back to destroy when one night, I had to get dressed for a band concert. Here's the catch: I was confused and crumbled because I wanted to wear this feminine thing that I bought awhile ago, but I just didn't feel right in it, and I didn't want people to call me pretty in it. (Do you see how wobbly my FtM-ness is?) I've always hated having to get dressed because I hated wearing dresses but hated looking like a butch female in men's clothing even more. At least when I was in a dress, I was safe from any outside questioning (although being called "pretty" chewed me up from the inside). That night, I entirely crashed. I decided to come out a few weeks later about my gender doubts to close friends and then eventually, family. Positive and negative thoughts and reactions. My biggest fight wasn't with me vs society, but instead, me vs me. But now, here's why I posted the thread:
I had diarrhea and an inability to eat for a WEEK after coming out. I was like "crap, I was wrong. Where's the feeling of relief that everyone speaks of??? Why do I feel like I lied??? Why are all these feminine feelings coming back???" All of a sudden, the fact that everyone knew my "dirty" secret, my feminine feelings rushed back in, and mind you that I've hardly ever liked these feelings unless they were sexual. Natural feminine "feelings/desires" are my shield from the battle of being trans, but that shield has spikes facing me on my end - it's like the very biology I was born with turned against me like a spiteful backstabber. I hate hiding behind the feelings because they hurt and become uncomfortable after awhile (hence the "spikes" metaphor), but I feel so safe behind that shield to the point where I don't even want my male feelings to return. But I am depressed when they are gone. I miss them like a boyfriend. I would rather die than identify with being genderfluid or non-binary in such a binary world. Even when the world becomes a little less binary, I still want most of a male identity. I'm like... 80% male, 20% of a "wtf is this a female?" And that 20% is ONLY sexually, like if I'm horny or something... is that weird? I have massive respect for those who do identify with non-binary identities but for me, it was just too associated with staying biologically female since it's recommended not to start HRT if you are non-binary/genderfluid/questioning.
Trans is the most unasked-for battle; it's no one-way tunnel, and that is a blessing and a curse. It's wiggle room for those who need it, but it's a confusing hell for me. Being trans is a fork-tunnel with even more fork-paths extending from each end.
To wrap things up, I looked into HRT and I cry out of giddyness and mourning for the things to expect. Nothing makes me happier than bottom growth, a structured face, deepened voice, and less crying out of my eyes for God's sake. I'm tired of the anxiety, cutting, depression, and questioning "but... what if I was on HRT?" and then days later "why did I ever consider HRT?" I itch so badly for a flat chest. But the curse is that when I imagine myself in that operating room, doctors cutting open my chest and taking out the most pointless thing there is to hate in the world... I wonder how this is fair.
How is it fair that I was given a chest to become attached to, only to constantly worry about it being seen and daydreaming of it flat? How is it fair that the only way to get it flat comes with mourning, thousands of dollars, and scalpels? How is it fair that when I imagine myself on HRT, I cry out of fear that I'll no longer recognize myself even though dysphoria demands that I change and become less "cute"? How is it fair that I was given a pleasure system with thousands of nerve-endings that doesn't even like pleasure? How is it fair that I'm attracted to men but can't swallow heteroromantic love stories? How is fair that I can't even please myself watching the kind of sex that one day I WOULD HAVE, and that instead I have to watch MxM? How is it fair that at age 13 I was so convinced that this was for me, only at age 17 to be smothered in guilt that "how could this ever be for me? Why would you do this to yourself?" How is it fair that I can't pick out the color of my toothbrush without going the rest of the morning questioning my very birth? How is it fair that some of my relatives view me as a whiny joke? How is it fair that this struggle drove me into a cutting addiction? How is it fair that this is the ONLY thing I can focus on these days and therefore can't return to my hobbies? HOW IS IT FAIR that I'm like this?
Thanks to anyone for reading this ramble. Since I can't do anything for myself, please, leave your suggestions as to what you think I may be. I think other people are usually more right about me than me when it comes to me.
(Also forgot to mention that I am already seeing a therapist... just dawned on me last night whether or not she was a gender therapist this whole time. It kills me when I can't see her/have to wait a week to see her, but honestly, I feel like I'm not getting anywhere in terms of figuring out my authentic self. Just putting on a front and a fake smile, wishing I was dead, and waiting 7 days.)
