Milestones and Memories
Exactly two years ago today, I sat in a therapists office, pouring my heart out. All the accumulated dysphoria of fifty years filled the room, thickening the air with stifling pain until there was no oxygen left for me to breathe, leaving me gasping.
The therapist had seen it before, and asked question after question that I answered affirmatively, while I built a mountain of wet tissues on the couch next to me. It was absolutely certain that it would take at least two more sessions of enduring such agony before I could ever be confirmed with the diagnosis that I was already sure of - that I had been sure of since before puberty - and could think of moving on. That was assuming that the therapist would even reach the conclusion I knew she should, and didn't tell me that I was a cross-dresser, that my self-diagnosis was completely erroneous, that I would for the rest of my life endure the pain that had become unendurable.
At the end of that very first session, she set up an appointment with the endocrinologist for HRT prescriptions. She was that sure...
...two years ago.
Today I enjoyed a late breakfast with my best friend, a leisurely morning dozing in my nightgown, and a relaxed lunch, before going shopping. We were called ladies everywhere we went, and shopped the women's section as if we belonged there, because, of course, we did. I found the white slacks to round out an outfit I'd been wanting to put together, along with a beautiful new dress. I bought some more luggage for our trip to Europe coming up in ten days for more FFS work. It was all so... normal...
Two years ago...
...I had worn women's jeans, a plain white cotton button down shirt undetectably different from a men's shirt except for the buttons on the other side, white tennis shoes, and my hair in a ponytail.
Today I was wearing a floral v-neck fitted top that nicely highlighted the 36Bs, cute jeans shorts with embroidered flowers, white tennis shoes with multicolored sparkly laces, my "Pleiades Place" necklace, dangly earrings, a bracelet given to me that says "Safe trip wherever you go, and another that says "Alis Volat Propriis," which is Latin for "She flies with her own wings." Just a normal casual weekend warm-weather outfit.
Two years ago...
...my timeline had been maybe, possibly, coming out to people after HNT made it impossible to hide the changes in my body, maybe some time after three years. Maybe, possibly, I could consider my transitioning close to done in five years or so.
But my social transition is done. I've had FFS and am going to finish it off in three weeks. I have a date for GCS. My physical transition is laid out before me and will be done before the end of the year.
How did it happen so fast?
Stephanie