I'm not really new here, although I may as well be--I was last active on my old account 4 years ago.
As the title says, my name is Sage. I'm 17 and living in Wisconsin, a state best described as the armpit of the Midwest. There's not a whole lot to say about my life given that it mainly consists of social media and daydreaming.
I know most teenagers who show up here are in the beginning stages of self discovery and questioning. That doesn't aptly describe me. I formally came out as trans in 2011, when I was a wee sixth grader dressed in Urban Pipeline with a horrific cheap crew cut. It has been a rough go. Coming out, while possibly the best thing I have ever done for my mental health, destroyed whatever remnants of a relationship I had left with my mom after her ugly divorce from my dad 3 years earlier. She is aggressively Catholic and pigheaded, which didn't make for an ideal situation. Conversion therapy, verbal altercations, deception and manipulation by both parties, yada yada, same old story.
I got depressed. That's not the least bit uncommon for our community, so it's not much of a statement. Over the course of my year or so in conversion therapy I developed an eating disorder as well as a self-injury addiction, which eventually blossomed into full-blown major depressive disorder and suicidal ideation. I ended up in a psych ward when I was 13. It wasn't the magic cure, of course, and the problem continued to escalate. 4 years later I have a tally of over 30 hospitalizations, medical and psychiatric, for SI and ED. Cool life I've got.
At some point I guess I realized that I had only two choices, neither of them desirable. Option one was continuing to press the issue of my debilitating dysphoria and perpetuate the environment of hostility and oppression that existed at home, but to the fullest extent possible live the life I was meant to. Option two was fake it 'til you make it: be the girl the entire freaking world wanted me to be--feminine, quiet, nonconfrontational, conservative, heterosexual.
I chose the latter, and I am so deeply unhappy.
The person others see right away is pretty and traditionally feminine, with long hair and expensive clothes from the Juniors section. She talks in a valley-girl falsetto complete with vocal fry. She talks about being a wife and mother as if they are desirable and inevitable parts of the future. She flirts with straight boys, walks with a swing in her hips, and puts on mascara before she ever leaves the house.
Most of the time, I only exist after midnight, when no one else is around to care. I am not the puppet who uses my name and face during the day. I cry when I get my period. I can't stand to look at myself naked. I am sexually attracted to women. I do secret pushups and deadlifts in a futile attempt to force my shoulders to outgrow my hips. I do anything I can think of to increase my testosterone, including starving myself and stealing T supplements from cis men's bathrooms. My binder is my most prized possession. When I think of myself as a 30 year old woman, I am overwhelmed with disgust and contempt.
I'm so tired of the dichotomy. My life feels empty and unfulfilling and sometimes entirely meaningless. My entire childhood has been spent in a feverish countdown to my 18th birthday, but now that I am 9 months away, thinking about what transition would cost me socially, financially, and professionally takes my breath away. I'm so scared. I guess the real reason I joined here again is to for once not feel like it is me versus the entire world, because often the loneliness feels like it's going to swallow me whole.
Sorry about writing an entire novel, and I'm even sorrier for bringing a simple introduction to such a dismal conclusion. I look forward to seeing you all on the forums.
-Sage
