Hi everyone,
I'm Vaidehi—and even just saying that feels emotional. The moment I came across this name, something clicked deep inside me. It wasn't just a name—it felt like a calling. Like someone I had always been trying to return to. And for the first time, I'm allowing myself to say it: This is me.
I chose the name Vaidehi because it holds so much quiet strength. In the Ramayana, Vaidehi is another name for Sita—a woman known not just for her devotion, but for her dignity, her trials, and her resilience. Vaidehi literally means "the one from Videha," but to me, it also symbolizes a return to self—a self I've kept hidden for decades. This name isn't about mythology alone—it's about reclaiming the soft, powerful part of me I've always known was there.
I'm 45, based in India, and for most of my life I've lived in a deeply masculine role—husband, father, professional, gym regular. On the outside, I looked like I had it together. But inside? I've been carrying a quiet ache for as long as I can remember.
As a child, I tried on my mom's clothes when no one was watching. I didn't have the words for it—I just felt... peace. But I quickly learned to hide it. In my teens, I experienced pubertal gynecomastia, and instead of compassion, it became something I was mocked for. That pushed me even deeper into hiding. I built a mask of masculinity that was convincing—even to myself, at times.
Now, decades later, that voice I once silenced has come back—and it's louder than ever. Some days I feel sure: I need to do this. I need to live as the woman I've always been deep inside. And then there are days I feel paralyzed—thinking about my marriage, my children, my family, and the people who see me one way but don't know what's inside. I feel guilty. I feel lost. And I worry what I could lose by stepping into the light.
But what scares me even more is the thought of growing old never having lived. Of never truly knowing myself.
I'm not on HRT yet. I'm still stealth, still figuring things out. But I've reached a point where I have to talk to others who've walked this path—others who buried themselves so deep they forgot how to breathe, until they finally said: enough.
Thank you for holding space for people like me. I don't know where this path will lead... but I know that I can't keep pretending I'm not on it.
With love and quiet hope,
Vaidehi 🪷
