I like how this essay frames the choice we make. It is a truly terrifying choice, and like the Matrix, all is not settled after you first make that choice. You have to keep making it. There are things you will fear all along the way.
There's a quote from a movie I think about when I consider whether I should talk to others about what it's…
I like how this essay frames the choice we make. It is a truly terrifying choice, and like the Matrix, all is not settled after you first make that choice. You have to keep making it. There are things you will fear all along the way.
There's a quote from a movie I think about when I consider whether I should talk to others about what it's like to transition, whether it's responsible to share with people who might be figuring out whether they should leap.
"If I may make a suggestion, it's a children's book, right?"
"Right."
"They are not supposed to scare the living shit out of the children."
I have let go and leapt. I am still in the middle of the air; I am still reaching for the other side.
I know the odds of landing on the other side are with me, but until I do I can't help but be aware of the chasm below.
It was and still is scary as fuck.
Yet I have reached the other side so many times already.
It is. I don't know if there is a way to think about the leap except as an embrace? And that is love. You embrace who you are, even though you might not know exactly who that is yet - you have never let yourself know that person - but whoever it is you know you love them.
But I'm just a baby, 9 months of HRT and coming up on one year since my egg cracked. I try to say what this all means as I try to learn about my new life, and then reinvent it all again with each new day.
I like how this essay frames the choice we make. It is a truly terrifying choice, and like the Matrix, all is not settled after you first make that choice. You have to keep making it. There are things you will fear all along the way.
There's a quote from a movie I think about when I consider whether I should talk to others about what it's like to transition, whether it's responsible to share with people who might be figuring out whether they should leap.
"If I may make a suggestion, it's a children's book, right?"
"Right."
"They are not supposed to scare the living shit out of the children."
I have let go and leapt. I am still in the middle of the air; I am still reaching for the other side.
I know the odds of landing on the other side are with me, but until I do I can't help but be aware of the chasm below.
It was and still is scary as fuck.
Yet I have reached the other side so many times already.
For the first time in my life, I love myself.
I HAVE to keep reaching.
That's the thing, isn't it? The leap itself changes us, regardless of its outcome... And that's pretty beautiful, you know?
It is. I don't know if there is a way to think about the leap except as an embrace? And that is love. You embrace who you are, even though you might not know exactly who that is yet - you have never let yourself know that person - but whoever it is you know you love them.
But I'm just a baby, 9 months of HRT and coming up on one year since my egg cracked. I try to say what this all means as I try to learn about my new life, and then reinvent it all again with each new day.
It's always beautiful. So beautiful.