Honestly, I’m torn on how I view my past self. I don’t see “him” as a different person in any way except externally. That appearance and mind never really meshed, so it doesn’t feel like a separate person (aside from the usual age thing).
Past me was not really a he, just someone who clung to the role she was given because she desperately wanted to be normal. It’s hard being totally abnormal and hating it for your entire adolescence. I’ve wanted to destroy the person I was for as long as I remember, so I never really saw it as a full person, just an empty costume I was stuck in.
The big thing I didn’t realize was that the part I hated was the gender. At first, I hadn’t even suspected that it could be my problem. I didn’t feel a clear urge to get rid of it or discard it, only feeling displeasure while wearing it that just couldn’t be placed. I always would have been so much happier as a girl, but I had barely a clue. I truely didn’t know or suspect that “woman” would fit like a glove I was always meant to have.
It was hard to realize that my male outfit didn’t fit and was killing me. It was even harder to accept that I wanted a cozy femme outfit, not to simply to discard my old one.
My identity needed to be torn down and rebuilt, but I didn’t even need tools to dismantle that cardboard shack. I needed to know that the shack was killing me, that I could tear it down, and that I could build a new home.
A thought I often come back to is that we all (trans or otherwise) have far more in common with our friends and acquaintances now than our past selves of 10, 20 or more years ago. I’m a very different person now than that bitterly unhappy kid facing down year after year of hell at school. But yeah, I didn’t suddenly become somebody else when my egg cracked.
On the other hand, throwing away everything I thought I knew about myself was absolutely necessary. Maybe I am trans… maybe I do want to wear women’s clothes and makeup… maybe I can wear a dress in public (OK, still working on that one). It kind of feels like (I imagine) winning the lottery: I beat the odds, somehow; I still don’t quite believe it; and my life is about to change massively.
Honestly, I’m torn on how I view my past self. I don’t see “him” as a different person in any way except externally. That appearance and mind never really meshed, so it doesn’t feel like a separate person (aside from the usual age thing).
Past me was not really a he, just someone who clung to the role she was given because she desperately wanted to be normal. It’s hard being totally abnormal and hating it for your entire adolescence. I’ve wanted to destroy the person I was for as long as I remember, so I never really saw it as a full person, just an empty costume I was stuck in.
The big thing I didn’t realize was that the part I hated was the gender. At first, I hadn’t even suspected that it could be my problem. I didn’t feel a clear urge to get rid of it or discard it, only feeling displeasure while wearing it that just couldn’t be placed. I always would have been so much happier as a girl, but I had barely a clue. I truely didn’t know or suspect that “woman” would fit like a glove I was always meant to have.
It was hard to realize that my male outfit didn’t fit and was killing me. It was even harder to accept that I wanted a cozy femme outfit, not to simply to discard my old one.
My identity needed to be torn down and rebuilt, but I didn’t even need tools to dismantle that cardboard shack. I needed to know that the shack was killing me, that I could tear it down, and that I could build a new home.
A thought I often come back to is that we all (trans or otherwise) have far more in common with our friends and acquaintances now than our past selves of 10, 20 or more years ago. I’m a very different person now than that bitterly unhappy kid facing down year after year of hell at school. But yeah, I didn’t suddenly become somebody else when my egg cracked.
On the other hand, throwing away everything I thought I knew about myself was absolutely necessary. Maybe I am trans… maybe I do want to wear women’s clothes and makeup… maybe I can wear a dress in public (OK, still working on that one). It kind of feels like (I imagine) winning the lottery: I beat the odds, somehow; I still don’t quite believe it; and my life is about to change massively.
I get that feeling of beating the odds. Nothing in my life has ever been harder than simply existing pretransition.