This isn't the sort of thing that's fun to talk about. But I've been helped over a number of humps by generous trans girls who haven't been too afraid to discuss their challenges in public, and so I feel some obligation to do the same.
I've always known I was far too dependent on the good opinions of others. Like my more generic low self-esteem, I put it down to being raised by a systematically abusive parent. She would have lost custody of her children today; back then, not so much.
I think it's a testimony to my conviction about who I was that I dared to transition and, eventually, go full-time. And that conviction was always incredibly deep; it astonished me. I was more sure of my gender after coming out than I was of nearly anything else in life, and for no apparent reason. My first and greatest crisis occurred about 2½ months after; I spent two weeks in hell with self-doubt before I finally resolved it. In the end, I saw what had caused it was my anxiety over the attitudes and thoughts of people who saw me, when I went out in public. I seem to automatically tend to see myself as I think they see me, because, again, I'm so dependent on the good opinion of others.
As any of you can see, this is hell on a trans girl. I haven't socialized much. Most of my public activity involves going to work, going shopping, and walking at the mall, which I do frequently. I've realized in recent weeks that going shopping and going walking are causing me more stress than I knew. When I finish an hour walking at the mall, the first thing I want to do is get some chocolate, a stress reliever. If I'm really stressed, I'll get potato chips, too. And then there's rum & coke ...
I don't wear dresses often, mostly because they're not often convenient. I do love wearing them, though. Usually, it's jeans or capri pants and a women's top; and, although I don't have much of one, I do have a figure now, so it's clear what I am. Today, I wore a dress to go shopping; I felt the need to be especially girly today. I was watching for the stress, and I found it. Hello, chocolate; hello, rum & coke.
Early on, I was so thrilled with just being out and about as me that I think my joy overrode a lot of this anxiety. Now, while the joy is still there, it's no longer new and overwhelming. Now, it's more of a background thing: constant, but no longer dominant. Unfortunately, the anxiety seems to be on the ascendency.
And then there's the proverbial icing on the cake: self misgendering. I know I'm not the only girl to do this. I've read of at least one other person who has been full-time for years and still does it. Last night, I did it at a social gathering – twice. That made for a pleasant evening. The first thing one thinks, in the face of persistent self misgendering, is that the unconscious is screaming because the conscious has taken it into Wonderland and it wants to return to male reality. That's a fun thing to think about. And here's even more fun: I discovered about two months ago that, yes, this transbian – I thought – could find guys sexually and romantically attractive. Color me gobsmacked. Can you guess what that suggests? That maybe Blanchard was right! at least, about me.
I used to explain this phenomenon by saying it was simply old patterns of thought that hadn't been redeemed yet; but at this point in my transition that seems a bit weak. What I really think is, it's seeing myself through the eyes of others, the way I think they see me; or, possibly, comparing myself to other women and finding myself wanting, seeing myself as a male trying to be female. It may even be a need to conform to others' expectations – and here, it gets much deeper.
I have always believed that I must have shown signs at an early age of my gender. If I did, my father, God rest his soul, who loved me deeply, would have considered it his duty as a father to stamp it out and set me on the right road in life, as he saw it. This was the 1950s, and no other choice would have seemed reasonable to him. He would have had me committed, if necessary; and he would have broken his own heart in so doing. And I wonder: is this where the suppression of my true self began? Is this where I became someone who needed others to confirm my worth, and who I am?
Because I found out something else, after I came out to myself. That low self-esteem I mentioned was a symptom of something else; and that something else was gender dysphoria. I know this, because, after coming out to myself, two major, life-long, formerly-considered-unresolvable-and-you'll-just-have-to-live-with-them "self-esteem" issues just melted away on their own, with no effort or attention from me. What I had always thought was low self-esteem was really gender dysphoria. So, I wonder. Maybe this all began with a father's love for his daughter.
I'm lucky. Despite these conflicts, that bedrock conviction I mentioned that I'm a girl remains. I have had so many confirmations of my gender over the past two years that it's not a serious question anymore. But some people may not be so lucky. After surviving that two weeks in hell in June, 2017, I'll never go through that again; I'll scream into the darkness who I am – a woman – until the day I die. But it doesn't mean that it's easy. I know who I am; that doesn't make the doubts go away. Like nagging imps or demons, they sit on the shoulder and whisper "What ifs?" into your ear.
Somehow, I have to learn how to not listen. Please place suggestions in the box provided.
