Not "thriving" as demanded

[Henriette]

It's rather odd that when you present this to someone less "analytical", they will mostly take you for a TERF or something, because you don't blindly adhere to the status quo. But I think that, have I been 10 years younger, I would not have transitioned at all.

Nearly all my "education" about trans-related matters were scraps of the 80s and 90s that somehow survived to the late 2000s/early 2010s which — some may take as — "outdated" concepts. I have never taken me other than a point-blank transsexual. I have never seen the blue-pink-white flag until well into my teens. I didn't wish to become a girl since tender age because someone was framing it to me as "nice" or something.

And yeah, there's that thing called dysphoria, that one who makes death seems like a flowery garden. In fact, after this short time, death still seem alluring to me. Because 30 or 40 years ago, I don't think things would be so bleak as nowadays.

When people ask me about my transition (if someone ever notices that I'm transitioning at all, and I am not just taken as another regular guy who you wouldn't even have guessed that is taking HRT for a fair time already, of course), they get often surprised by my stance. I mean, earlier this century, I'd say, the concept of "being trans isn't good, you do it because the option is perishing" was much easier to find out. Nowadays you must treat it like a party or something.

Nowadays, at least with people of my own generation, it looks like transness itself was merely reduced to an aesthetic, like we used to have goths, grunge and emo back in the day. A thing that could objectively make someone's life terrible was rebranded as "quirky". Like what happened with Autism, Anxiety, OCD and other hidden conditions: the bearers of them tried desperately to have a normal life, just to get some teenager self-diagnosing to reduce the internal horror of someone plagued by those conditions into "yea this is so funny I love having this condition". Dysphoria is often thrown under the same bus (e.g. something that people get uncomfortable if you ever speak about it outside the "look how nice is this").

Even if I am rather "young" by some definitions, I feel sincerely disconnected with the current young trans movement. I do not belong in a "party". I am not an animal to follow the cattle. I'm not "some queer thing", if anything I'm a woman who never had the chance to be.

I had no joy on most "transition goals". I legally changed my ID back in the beginning of my transition, because I — stupid one — thought that years later I would look like a woman, and having a deadname would be embarrassing. Turns out that after all this time, my appearance is the same as before, like I took placebo instead of HRT, and delivering my ID to anyone feels like a humiliation ritual. I don't dress up, because I can't feel anything other than disgust by looking in a mirror. Where is the "fulfillment" on doing that, when if anything, I just see a man in a dress (and if I ever had the audacity to get out like this, I would deservedly be mocked by anyone while knowing completely the reason?). Speaking about this with the mainstream nowadays is almost painting a target on your forehead, because you *must* be thriving, transition *must* have saved you.

And there's that thing, on how going back isn't precisely a choice at all. I know deep inside that I was never a man, but I also do know that the more the time passes, I will never be a woman, having to conform myself to be "that third odd thing" all the time. How can one even find happiness knowing they have failed at being their own inner selves and have to conform to a "lower" version of what one has aimed? My dysphoria isn't something to be alleviated with some cheap pieces of polyester, if anything, wearing them worsens it. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been secluding myself and doing all the possible to forget that I'm alive until something has happened. Because this whole thing is just bleak.

It's somewhat depressing that every time I'm told to "double" the bet. I mean, "one year is too few!" then "2 years!" and so on, until I look back and notice that all my life was wasted, precisely like the girl days I've seen going past me and will never come back. The same way all my 20s are being thrown into the bin, because by "living", I'm still a man for everyone, even after doing nearly everything in my reach to not make this a truth.

It's just depressing that trying to talk about it with people "my age" often worsens everything. Because despite all of that, I should be happy to myself and glad that I have transitioned. When in fact this was the only hope I had and lost.

[Jillian-TG]

I don't have anything insightful to add other than to say that I am sorry that you haven't been able to achieve any feminine changes to your looks despite HRT. I am going to assume it's not uncommon though and probably why some people end up spending huge amounts of money on facial feminization surgery to do what the hormones can no longer do.

[Susan ✅]

Henriette,

I hear you. Every word.

I'm not going to tell you that you must be thriving. I'm not going to tell you transition is supposed to feel like a party. That pressure to perform happiness—to be a success story on demand—is its own kind of violence. You're right to refuse it.

I've been at this for over 30 years. I remember when the framework was "you do this because the alternative is not surviving." Not pride flags. Not aesthetics. Not celebration. Survival.

The shift in discourse has left many of us feeling like strangers in what's supposed to be our own community. When you say you feel disconnected from the current young trans movement, you're not alone. And no, it doesn't make you a TERF to notice that something has changed, or to grieve what that change has cost.

But I have to stop here and speak directly to something you wrote: that death seems alluring. That you're doing everything possible to forget you're alive.

I'm not reading past that. I can't.

You matter. Your pain is real, and so is your life.

Please reach out:

• Trans Lifeline: 1-877-565-8860 (US) / 1-877-330-6366 (Canada) — staffed by trans people who understand
• 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline: Call or text 988 (US)
• Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741
• International Association for Suicide Prevention: https://www.iasp.info/resources/Crisis_Centres/ 🔗

You don't have to perform wellness. But I need you to stay.

I want to share something a member named Miharu Barbie wrote here in 2017:

"I feel overwhelmed with gratitude for life today. When I was much younger than I am today, I never expected to live this long. Indeed, prior to transition 19 years ago I believed at that time that I had already lived too long and seen too much and I was prepared to snuff out this life by my own hand.

I am so grateful that I made the choice to stick around and transition. I have seen and experienced so much amazing stuff over the years! I know now that those darkest days of my younger years were little more than speed bumps on the road to this happy, fulfilled life that I'm living today. It would have been such a bummer to miss all this adventure!

I am grateful to all the people who open up and share their fears and sorrows, their joys and triumphs on this forum. You all enrich my life with your openness.

I am especially grateful to Susan and her army of moderators for creating this safe space and for keeping it safe all day every day. You all rule!

Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Love! Miharu"

She was exactly where you are now. Convinced she had lived too long. Ready to end it.

And 19 years later, she looked back and called those darkest days "speed bumps." Not because they weren't real. Not because the pain wasn't crushing. But because there was road on the other side she couldn't see yet.

I've watched this pattern repeat for 30 years. People who were certain there was no way forward. Who couldn't imagine a life worth living. Who later came back to tell us they were grateful they stayed.

Not all of them. Not every story ends well. But enough of them that I know the ending isn't written yet when you're in the darkest part.

Bodies are stubborn. Genetics are unfair. Timelines are cruel and vary wildly from person to person.

Some of us get lucky. Some of us fight for every millimeter of change. And sometimes what we hoped transition would give us doesn't arrive—not on schedule, not in the way we imagined, sometimes not at all.

That's not failure. That's the path being brutally harder than anyone prepared you for.

The "just wait longer" advice is maddening when you're living in a body that feels like a betrayal every single day. I understand why it lands as dismissal. But I also know that bodies can surprise us.

Changes at year three that weren't there at year two. Changes after adjusting dosages or delivery methods. Changes after surgeries that seemed out of reach.

I'm not selling you false hope. I'm saying the story isn't finished yet, even when it feels like it is.

Before I transitioned, if someone had told me I would ever pass, I would have assumed they were either lying or mocking me. Dysphoria had me convinced it was impossible.

Yet within weeks of starting, I began to feel comfortable in my own skin for the first time—and passing followed. It didn't happen all at once. Getting my hair done properly. Learning how eyebrows and makeup could highlight what worked and soften what didn't. Losing weight. Finding my style. Each small step let me see a little more of my real self in the mirror.

Within months, I wasn't performing womanhood anymore. I just was.

The photos below show that progression. The first one is pre-transition—if you look at my eyes, you can see how dead they were from years of hiding. The next few show my early days of coming out, then public speaking, then just living. The later ones came after surgeries.

But here's the thing: there's no surgery between those early photos and the middle ones. The difference you're seeing is confidence. Belonging. The light coming back into my eyes.

Even when I looked rough in those early pictures, I felt amazing—because I was finally letting my real self be seen.

But I need to say this too: even if I had never passed, I still couldn't have gone back to pretending. That's what was unbearable—not the fear of failing at womanhood, but the certainty of dying inside if I kept living a lie.

Transition wasn't about achieving some perfect outcome. It was about finally living honestly, whatever that looked like.

You said you know deep inside you were never a man. That knowing doesn't go away because the mirror is cruel. That knowing is you.

The disconnect between who you are and what you see is dysphoria doing what dysphoria does—it lies. It tells you that the outside is the truth and the inside is the delusion.

It's wrong.

You asked how one finds happiness knowing they've "failed" at being their inner selves. I'd push back gently on the framing.

You haven't failed. You're in the middle of something hard. The middle is not the end.

For me, the measure of successful transition was when I started looking forward instead of back. Not when I passed perfectly. Not when the mirror stopped hurting. When the weight of what I'd lost stopped being heavier than what I was moving toward.

That shift doesn't happen on a schedule. It doesn't require a particular body. It requires staying long enough to get there.

What would actually help you right now? Not what you're supposed to want. Not what would make a good story. What do you actually need?

I'm here! This community is here!

You don't have to be okay! But please—stay!

With love and deep care
— Susan

[Allie Jayne]

Henriette, I am a pragmatist, and very analytical. I recognised early in life that I had incongruent gender, and it just would not be silenced. So I developed ways to shut it out, and when that wasn't possible, to lessen the effect with subtle affirmation. I did this to get on with my life as a family was my priority. As I got older, the pressure to affirm my gender increased. I researched every bit of information I could find, much of it was simply opinion, so I sorted out the real facts.

The stress (dysphoria) took a toll on my health, and I began to experience depression. It became obvious that I needed to increase the affirmation of my gender to survive. But I had no desire to be a woman, and in fact, I knew it would threaten all that I held dear to me. I started HRT purely to treat a condition which was threatening my life. Many in this community objected to me describing my incongruence as a condition, but in science, life is a condition, it is not something bad!

I started HRT at age 65, and I knew it wouldn't transform me so I would be seen as a cis woman, and I went through a period of deep fear and depression thinking I would be rejected by my loved ones. Though I never considered ending my life as I knew that would hurt my loved ones, I recognise that if they hadn't accepted and supported me, my world would have become intolerable. I now live as an openly trans woman, and have the support and acceptance of my family and community, even if my marriage failed.

I am not completely comfortable in the social role of a woman, as I know who and what I am. I have adopted this role purely to reduce dysphoria to liveable levels. This realisation of myself puts me at odds with the majority in the Trans community, but I am me, and I don't need to fit their visions. Part of why I have gained acceptance is because I have stayed true to myself, I am the same person I always was.

I cannot celebrate being trans as it made my life much harder, pushed me to the brink of survival, cost me financially, and has made me dependant on HRT for the rest of my life, but mostly as it caused my loved ones pain, and drove my soul mate from me. I can understand how younger transitioners and those who have not faced the trials I have had, might more fully embrace their gender roles, but we are all different, and my journey is just as valid, as is yours. Being trans was not my choice, and I wish I didn't suffer with it, but I did, and I survived it. All we can do is make the best of what we are served in life, and be honest with ourselves and others. I have learned not to let others opinions rule my life, nor mine theirs.

Hugs,

Allie

[katiebee]

Nearly all my "education" about trans-related matters were scraps of the 80s and 90s that somehow survived to the late 2000s/early 2010s which — some may take as — "outdated" concepts. I have never taken me other than a point-blank transsexual. I have never seen the blue-pink-white flag until well into my teens. I didn't wish to become a girl since tender age because someone was framing it to me as "nice" or something.

...

Nowadays, at least with people of my own generation, it looks like transness itself was merely reduced to an aesthetic, like we used to have goths, grunge and emo back in the day. A thing that could objectively make someone's life terrible was rebranded as "quirky". Like what happened with Autism, Anxiety, OCD and other hidden conditions: the bearers of them tried desperately to have a normal life, just to get some teenager self-diagnosing to reduce the internal horror of someone plagued by those conditions into "yea this is so funny I love having this condition". Dysphoria is often thrown under the same bus (e.g. something that people get uncomfortable if you ever speak about it outside the "look how nice is this").

Even if I am rather "young" by some definitions, I feel sincerely disconnected with the current young trans movement. I do not belong in a "party". I am not an animal to follow the cattle. I'm not "some queer thing", if anything I'm a woman who never had the chance to be.

...

It's just depressing that trying to talk about it with people "my age" often worsens everything. Because despite all of that, I should be happy to myself and glad that I have transitioned. When in fact this was the only hope I had and lost.

One thing that has kept me repressing all these years is how unrelatable I find most of the modern "trans community." I wish nothing more than that my dysphoria could get fixed and I could be a totally normal, boring, unassuming woman. Kind of like you said, that seemed to be the general trans message up until this recent wave in the late 00s, early 2010s.

I really hope you can find happiness. As someone who took the other path (repressing and living as the man everyone else sees), it's a decent life one can be content with but like you, I also feel like my 20s were kind of wasted. But I kind of feel that ongoing pressure, too - that I'm wasting my 30s now. I obviously don't have a good answer because I'm just fighting the same battle while living the other side of your coin, but I suspect people who suffer from gender dysphoria are prone to torturing ourselves with "what if" and being hypersensitive about how we're perceived by others. A massive element of sex is how you fit in society. It's totally valid and real to want to be a woman fitting into society as it exists, and as gender norms exist, rather than insisting on rewriting society and norms entirely. And it's totally valid to feel pain when that's not happening, and to get really frustrated when the "find happiness in your truth" kind of thing seems to be dismissive of that pain.

My only bit of comfort that I can offer, as unhelpful as it may be, is that you've done a lot of the hard part already. You're on HRT and are actively transitioning. The inertia of transition is on your side, even if it's hard to see it, and you're not fighting against "the best time is yesterday, the next best is now" problem. I have no experience I can share to help, other than to let you know to not tear yourself up over wondering what it'd be like if you hadn't transitioned. If you're anything like me - and it sounds like you are - then I can promise you that you'd just have spent that time constantly torturing yourself with "what if" and regrets. You didn't waste your 20s. You spent that time trying to dig out of the unlucky hole we're born into. Even if you had spent that time trying to get comfortable living in a hole, you'd always dream about what it's like above ground and wish you'd spent your 20s digging to see for yourself. You've rejected "the hole" and have committed to getting out, and I admire you for that. As cliche to say as it is in modern trans stuff, what you've done has taken an immense amount of bravery and courage. Not everyone has the will to try and get out of "the hole." You do.

I know that doesn't help feeling like you've lost in the effort to escape, but I think you're selling yourself short. Even if your dream of just being a plain Jane seems far away, it's still closer than if you'd never started. And just in the past decade and a half of my lurking trans communities in denial, it seems cosmetic procedures have come a long way. I've seen recent timelines of women who started looking like me (a caveman), but through HRT and  with certain procedures like BA, FFS, shoulder reduction, rib remodelling, etc. are not just average women, but downright beautiful. Same with VFS for voice.

There's always hope, and your courage so far and your perseverence through this pain makes me think you can make it through this and escape "the hole" once and for all.

[Pema]

My 20's were a decade of struggling to try to find a place for myself in the world. I didn't feel like I saw anywhere that I fit in in any way. Most of (American) society felt pretty nonsensical to me. Even people and groups that purported to share my values mostly turned out to be self-serving, perpetuating the status quo that they said they were working to change. I found it all very alienating and wondered how and where I'd ever find a way to live the way I felt in my heart I needed to live.

In time, I got there, and it was almost entirely by small course corrections. There were very few large changes (excluding a cross-country move). Each little tweak improved my life a tiny bit. More importantly, it led to a better set of choices for the next adjustment. Over the years, those all added up to a pretty great way of life.

Many (many) times, the changes I made were not popular with people in my life. Everyone seems to have an opinion about other people's personal decisions. I listened, but in the end I made the choice that I felt was best for me. I have no close friends today who were in my life when I was in my 20s, and that's OK with me, because I have friends who know me and love me for who I am.

My points are that:

• It's really hard to be in your 20s. Most people with authority don't see you as a mature adult, but they also don't give you the benefits they would a child. So there are expectations of you, but you have very little access to the means to deliver on them. And it's hard to see how to get from there to the life you want to live. It may even be impossible to imagine what that life could look like.
• The key is to stay with it and be true to yourself. Figure out who you are and what's important to you and steer your life in that direction whenever an opportunity presents itself. People will notice and will respect you for it. Opportunities will present themselves.
• It's worth it. Not only can you create a life beyond what you could imagine today, but the reward of building it makes it even sweeter.
• It's never "over." Ever. The only way to fail is to quit. You can always move in a better direction. And that means you're never finished, either. As soon as we think everything is complete, something will come out of nowhere to teach us not to be complacent. We have to stay awake and keep growing and living our lives like there's something new worth experiencing.

If you can, don't worry about how your peers behave around transitioning (or anything else). You can be yourself and feel the way you feel.

As I've said elsewhere here, I have no expectations of passing or of thinking I look like any particular female image. I'll be who I am, and I'll be at peace because of that. Other people will think whatever they think - which is what they were going to do anyway.

When we try to be/think/feel/do what other people expect - or even what they taught us to expect - we're setting ourselves up for mediocrity if not outright disappointment, The only way to contentment is to discover who we really are and live our lives accordingly. If everyone did that, people wouldn't look and act so similarly.

Being different is a virtue. You can make your own template.

[Lori Dee ✅]

My 20's were a decade of struggling to try to find a place for myself in the world. I didn't feel like I saw anywhere that I fit in in any way. Most of (American) society felt pretty nonsensical to me. Even people and groups that purported to share my values mostly turned out to be self-serving, perpetuating the status quo that they said they were working to change. I found it all very alienating and wondered how and where I'd ever find a way to live the way I felt in my heart I needed to live.

In time, I got there, and it was almost entirely by small course corrections. There were very few large changes (excluding a cross-country move). Each little tweak improved my life a tiny bit. More importantly, it led to a better set of choices for the next adjustment. Over the years, those all added up to a pretty great way of life.

Many (many) times, the changes I made were not popular with people in my life. Everyone seems to have an opinion about other people's personal decisions. I listened, but in the end I made the choice that I felt was best for me. I have no close friends today who were in my life when I was in my 20s, and that's OK with me, because I have friends who know me and love me for who I am.

My points are that:

• It's really hard to be in your 20s. Most people with authority don't see you as a mature adult, but they also don't give you the benefits they would a child. So there are expectations of you, but you have very little access to the means to deliver on them. And it's hard to see how to get from there to the life you want to live. It may even be impossible to imagine what that life could look like.
• The key is to stay with it and be true to yourself. Figure out who you are and what's important to you and steer your life in that direction whenever an opportunity presents itself. People will notice and will respect you for it. Opportunities will present themselves.
• It's worth it. Not only can you create a life beyond what you could imagine today, but the reward of building it makes it even sweeter.
• It's never "over." Ever. The only way to fail is to quit. You can always move in a better direction. And that means you're never finished, either. As soon as we think everything is complete, something will come out of nowhere to teach us not to be complacent. We have to stay awake and keep growing and living our lives like there's something new worth experiencing.

If you can, don't worry about how your peers behave around transitioning (or anything else). You can be yourself and feel the way you feel.

As I've said elsewhere here, I have no expectations of passing or of thinking I look like any particular female image. I'll be who I am, and I'll be at peace because of that. Other people will think whatever they think - which is what they were going to do anyway.

When we try to be/think/feel/do what other people expect - or even what they taught us to expect - we're setting ourselves up for mediocrity if not outright disappointment, The only way to contentment is to discover who we really are and live our lives accordingly. If everyone did that, people wouldn't look and act so similarly.

Being different is a virtue. You can make your own template.

Pema, this is wise advice.

I did not encounter these things until I was 60. I attended the local VA Transgender Support Group, and I was happy to meet (for the first time) others who were like me. I felt less alone in the world, and learned that I was not even the only one in my area.

Eventually, the group had nothing to offer me. The meetings were more of complaint sessions, and everyone had a different view of what transitioning meant to them. I realized that it is an individual journey, and my opinion of what they were doing was just as unimportant as their opinion of mine. I don't belong to any local groups, but that is more due to time constraints. I reach more people here, which helps me learn from people all over the world.

I have encountered many people in person who, upon learning that I am trans, back off a bit, fearing that I am some kind of radical activist. When they see who I really am, they relax. All we can do is live our own lives and try to set a good example. If you want to be an activist, go for it. Just realize that it is not everyone's cup of tea.

Remember that we are trying not to fit into anyone's box, including within our own community. That requires listening to others and learning from them. Then we decide for ourselves what our own path will be.

[Asche]

I should warn you that I am having trouble empathizing with your situation, because of my own history.

I grew up in a world (family, school, church, etc.) that was constantly "demanding" (to use your word) that I stop being whoever or whatever I was and be something I couldn't be, couldn't even understand what it was, and it almost killed me.  (I survived by dissociating a lot.)  So now I almost instinctively push back against anybody telling me or even implying that I should be anything other than what I am at that moment.  (Drives my therapist crazy!)  I'd rather be an outcast than submit in any way to peer pressure or fashion: I know how to survive as an outcast, and I know that trying to be what I'm not will kill me.

So while I'll believe you that there's a trans culture out there that pushes ideas of what "real trans" is, I don't have any contact with it and don't want to, and, honestly, I don't have a lot of respect for the people that talk that way.  Yes, I'm a bit prickly.  (Actually, a lot prickly.)

I got where I am today because about 25 years ago I realized that if I was going to still be alive 5 years from then I was going to have to completely ignore all the messages about who I was supposed to be and start being who I really was, which meant figuring out who I was.  I started taking little steps (and a few big ones), trying things out to see what made my life better.  Some of those steps fit what some people call "trans," so that's what I say I am.  But I refuse to let those people's ideas define me.

So when I hear of "demanding", I react with "words you can't say on television" (or on Susans :-) )   I'd give them a rock and tell them to make their "demands" of the rock and leave me alone.  And for me, "thriving" means feeling better than I did before.  Living more or less "as a woman" has made my life better (and SRS made it a bit better, too.)  So I guess I could say I'm "thriving."  But it has left me with a very low opinion of popular ideas of "how to be trans" (or how to be much of anything.)

tl;dr: ignore the chattering crowds, listen to your inner self, and find your own way; IMHO, that's the only way that works.

[Asche]

I am also pretty skeptical of the idea of "passing."  It seems like a lot of trans women have this idea of what a "Real Woman" looks like and say they've failed if what they see in the mirror (or think they see) doesn't look exactly like that.

But cis women come in all shapes and sizes.  Back when I was starting HRT, I made a point of looking at all kinds of women (I was taking public transportation to work, so there were lots of people to see) and  would say to myself, "if I end up looking like that, it should be good enough."  Lots of cis-women don't "pass" all that well, and get misgendered from time to time (not to mention all the misogynistic comments that mean men throw at them.)  If you experience this, well -- welcome to womanhood!  As Susan points out, what makes the difference is getting the confidence to live as you are and let other people's objections be their problem.  (Which mainly comes from practice  -- not letting your stage fright keep you in hiding, but going out and facing the world.  "Fake it 'til you make it.")  I've been on HRT for 10 years now, and while I don't look all that great, I can look in the mirror and see a woman.  (An ugly 72-year old woman, but a woman.)

And if people figure out that I'm trans, that's okay too.  I tell people, I didn't transition to become "a woman," I transitioned to become myself.  I'm not perfect, I'm a "work in progress," but that doesn't make me a failure.  We're all "works in progress."

[Pema]

Phenomenal, @Asche. Thank you.

[tgirlamg]

You haven't failed. You're in the middle of something hard. The middle is not the end.

For me, the measure of successful transition was when I started looking forward instead of back. Not when I passed perfectly. Not when the mirror stopped hurting. When the weight of what I'd lost stopped being heavier than what I was moving toward.

That shift doesn't happen on a schedule. It doesn't require a particular body. It requires staying long enough to get there.

☝️😀💥 Boom!!!...

I have encountered many people in person who, upon learning that I am trans, back off a bit, fearing that I am some kind of radical activist. When they see who I really am, they relax. All we can do is live our own lives and try to set a good example. If you want to be an activist, go for it. Just realize that it is not everyone's cup of tea.

Remember that we are trying not to fit into anyone's box, including within our own community. That requires listening to others and learning from them. Then we decide for ourselves what our own path will be.

☝️😀💥 Boom!!!...

And if people figure out that I'm trans, that's okay too.  I tell people, I didn't transition to become "a woman," I transitioned to become myself.  I'm not perfect, I'm a "work in progress," but that doesn't make me a failure.  We're all "works in progress."

☝️😀💥 Boom!!!...

So while I'll believe you that there's a trans culture out there that pushes ideas of what "real trans" is, I don't have any contact with it and don't want to, and, honestly, I don't have a lot of respect for the people that talk that way.  Yes, I'm a bit prickly.  (Actually, a lot prickly.)

☝️😀💥 Boom!!!...

Behold the sound of truths revealed...

Onward

A💕

[Sephirah]

Henriette, transition doesn't work outside in. It only works inside out. Most things in life only work that way. The change has to come from inside you and work outwards. If you look to the world to tell you who you are... you will always be disappointed.

I said this in your other post... YOU have to be the change you want to see. You don't dress up because you don't see who you want to be. But when you don't see it... you project that to the world and THEY don't see it. It's a cycle of negative reinforcement. You have to be the pebble in the pond. I've seen no end of pictures of folks here who haven't taken any steps in transitioning, but just accepting themselves and the freedom that brings, they light up. They are beautiful. No HRT, nothing... but they are glowing because of how they see themselves. And that light shines on everything else.

Sweetie, the world can't tell you who you are. Only you can do that. And if you're convinced of one thing, that's all the rest of the world is going to see. Because we perceive people on a far, far deeper level than how they look. That is utterly surface level. Be the change you want to see. It isn't about being happy. That's a whole different enchilada. A whole different rulebook. But if you want the world to accept you as you, then the first step is you accepting you as you.

Transition isn't the cake. It's the icing.

*hugs*