Well hooray for B. And for you, for being that brave. Saying the words, that first time - those first few times, to those first few people - took almost everything I had in courage. I had gotten there, over the course of yeeeeears and numerous almosts, so by the time I truly looked at it, it felt almost like coming home. But telling those first friends, 4v3n when I was sure they'd support me. There's always that fear (even now, telling new people).
You write well, btw. My own heart was pounding right along with you 💜
And with B? I was drowning. It wasn't bravery, not at all. I was desperately grasping for absolutely anything to keep me afloat, and she has always been my rock. It was pure survival instinct.
I still see bravery in that. You could have been pulling yourdelf out of the lake you were drowning in, and into a lake of fire.
Thats what I saw, reading this post, anyway. Obv I wasn't there in your head anymore than I am now, but I saw a desperate courage in what you did. And I think sometimes the moments of our most desperate courage are the ones only see the desperate of, and not the courage.
But I'm not here to rewrite your history! That was just what I saw and felt when I read this piece. I just hope I'm getting that across in my explanation here, rather than it sounding like I'm trying to rewrite your history for you (which I'm absolutely not, I hate when ppl do that).
Mostly, though, I'm just very glad that you didn't drown! I'm glad that I get to read your words. And you're very kind in replying to me, I appreciate that time and effort.
I tried to push those thoughts away for eight months before I told my wife of 22 years. And I found out later she knew something was really wrong but was too afraid of what I might do to myself if she pushed me on it. I’m glad you were smarter than I was.
I find myself ruminating on my life a lot recently since my egg cracked. For my whole life and especially since puberty, I've desperately avoided talking about myself, and feeling a deep sense of shame even thinking about myself, hearing my own voice, my name, or spotting a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Honestly, I felt like a hollow shell of a human being, without any real interests or hobbies, no vision of a future for myself, few friends, wanting to be completely ignored by the world. I felt a great sadness and shame about all of that, but didn't really know why.
It wasn't till 3 months ago that I finally admitted this sense of numbness to another human being. It was incredibly difficult, I cried like a bitch, I'd admitted I was broken. But after that, I sort of committed to trying to understand why I felt that intense shame. And initially settled on this idea I'd been holding myself to an impossible standard of what being a man was, and that relaxing those very quickly gave me a sense of relief and I found it impossible to not pick that thread and see how far it goes.
Why did I feel so different? Where did I get these stupid ideas of how I must present myself anyway? I realised that any sense of masculinity about myself has always felt fake, I knew I didn't have anything in common with males, so I didn't really have any way of distinguishing stupid ideas from real masculinity. And it was always drilled into my head I was not allowed to express emotion publicly, and had a deep fear of the social consequences for someone recognising me as fundamentally not male.
I have a lot of self-doubt about being trans.
Sure, I had a secret wish I had been born female. Sure, I don't have any masculine hobbies. Sure, I was shocked when I looked back at my posts I made when I was 17 and am shocked how strong that desire to be seen as female back then. Sure, being on E has greatly helped my mood and feeling of self-image. Sure, if I looked like a woman, I'd feel like one. Sure, I've always craved social acceptance from women, but never from men. Sure, my female flatmates for my 18th birthday wanted to do my makeup and I felt great, and that's one of my fondest memories. But...
What if I'm just over reacting to toxic masculinity? Maybe there is some male version of myself I could tolerate? Maybe I just haven't tried hard enough. I know these aren't really true, but I'm near daily having a similar argument in my head over. I know that at some point I have to defend this idea anyway if I ever want healthcare that isn't bought off shady online websites. I'm not sure how productive this deep thinking about my life is, but the more I do it, the more obvious the conclusion I'm trans as I remember more little data points and fit the jigsaw pieces of my life into a consistent narrative.
I struggled with a lot of the same feelings for much of my life. I lost track of how many times I called my dad, sobbing because I couldn't do man well enough and that it was so hard for me, a long time ago. That I hated being, or trying to be, a man for my whole life.
Therapy helped me a lot, but so did practicing something called radical acceptance. The basic idea is this: if something brings you joy, it's you, no matter how weird it is, and knowing that you'll probably never really understand why. Just let the joy into your life and trust what it brings.
Maybe it's a practice that might help you. It's not easy... but it's worth it.
When I started asking myself the question of who I wanted to be, I talked it over with my wife. And, even through she's poly and bi, that this would be a step too far.
How wrong I was. She told me that she had seen Shannon bleeding through for years now, knew that "cross dressing phase" in my 20's wasn't that.
When I said "if I transition", she said "it's not if, it's when".
She was right. It was when. And from the moment I journaled the fateful words of "I am a woman", she has been nothing but loving, supportive, and my defender.
We didn't have a reception due to pandemic. We made plans to have one when I finish grad school next year. When she told me she wants to renew our vows then, but with me as Shannon this time, I cannot begin to describe the sheer jjoy I felt.
All of my loved ones, and most of my friends, have been supportive of me. But my wife has been amazing. And I hope to be as good a wife to her as she has been to me.
It's funny. Reading this story (including the Part 1), I keep realizing that I'm picturing you as the new you, as the Zoe I know, not as the you from the before times. Even though I've seen photos of you from that era, my brain doesn't really connect that face with you. I imagine this experience gives me a little taste of what you meant when you said you can't remember being that person.
To be honest, I like to show my transition timeline a lot, and partly because it reminds me of exactly how far I've come, and in how short a time period.
That moment that becomes your heartbeat - the fear of truth. Fear of stigma. Fear of happiness. Fear of a life where you can love yourself.
Unforgettable.
This sounded so familiar I cried while reading it. Good job. Glad you made it also.
Awwwwwww <3
Well hooray for B. And for you, for being that brave. Saying the words, that first time - those first few times, to those first few people - took almost everything I had in courage. I had gotten there, over the course of yeeeeears and numerous almosts, so by the time I truly looked at it, it felt almost like coming home. But telling those first friends, 4v3n when I was sure they'd support me. There's always that fear (even now, telling new people).
You write well, btw. My own heart was pounding right along with you 💜
Thanks so much!
And with B? I was drowning. It wasn't bravery, not at all. I was desperately grasping for absolutely anything to keep me afloat, and she has always been my rock. It was pure survival instinct.
I still see bravery in that. You could have been pulling yourdelf out of the lake you were drowning in, and into a lake of fire.
Thats what I saw, reading this post, anyway. Obv I wasn't there in your head anymore than I am now, but I saw a desperate courage in what you did. And I think sometimes the moments of our most desperate courage are the ones only see the desperate of, and not the courage.
But I'm not here to rewrite your history! That was just what I saw and felt when I read this piece. I just hope I'm getting that across in my explanation here, rather than it sounding like I'm trying to rewrite your history for you (which I'm absolutely not, I hate when ppl do that).
Mostly, though, I'm just very glad that you didn't drown! I'm glad that I get to read your words. And you're very kind in replying to me, I appreciate that time and effort.
I'm glad you see that bravery. And I take no offense at all in people taking from my work what makes their hearts sing. Death of the author, right?
Oh yeah, definitely - also a writer, and definite yep to that.
But then again I don't usually walk up to the author, tap them on the shoulder, and go "heyyy, you're dead!" 😆
Lol, yeah, that's a bit gauche, huh? 🤣
Not my usual style 🤷♂️😆
I tried to push those thoughts away for eight months before I told my wife of 22 years. And I found out later she knew something was really wrong but was too afraid of what I might do to myself if she pushed me on it. I’m glad you were smarter than I was.
Smarter? I doubt it. Just unable to hold things in.
I'm in tears. Thank you for sharing.
I'm really glad it meant so much to you!
I find myself ruminating on my life a lot recently since my egg cracked. For my whole life and especially since puberty, I've desperately avoided talking about myself, and feeling a deep sense of shame even thinking about myself, hearing my own voice, my name, or spotting a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Honestly, I felt like a hollow shell of a human being, without any real interests or hobbies, no vision of a future for myself, few friends, wanting to be completely ignored by the world. I felt a great sadness and shame about all of that, but didn't really know why.
It wasn't till 3 months ago that I finally admitted this sense of numbness to another human being. It was incredibly difficult, I cried like a bitch, I'd admitted I was broken. But after that, I sort of committed to trying to understand why I felt that intense shame. And initially settled on this idea I'd been holding myself to an impossible standard of what being a man was, and that relaxing those very quickly gave me a sense of relief and I found it impossible to not pick that thread and see how far it goes.
Why did I feel so different? Where did I get these stupid ideas of how I must present myself anyway? I realised that any sense of masculinity about myself has always felt fake, I knew I didn't have anything in common with males, so I didn't really have any way of distinguishing stupid ideas from real masculinity. And it was always drilled into my head I was not allowed to express emotion publicly, and had a deep fear of the social consequences for someone recognising me as fundamentally not male.
I have a lot of self-doubt about being trans.
Sure, I had a secret wish I had been born female. Sure, I don't have any masculine hobbies. Sure, I was shocked when I looked back at my posts I made when I was 17 and am shocked how strong that desire to be seen as female back then. Sure, being on E has greatly helped my mood and feeling of self-image. Sure, if I looked like a woman, I'd feel like one. Sure, I've always craved social acceptance from women, but never from men. Sure, my female flatmates for my 18th birthday wanted to do my makeup and I felt great, and that's one of my fondest memories. But...
What if I'm just over reacting to toxic masculinity? Maybe there is some male version of myself I could tolerate? Maybe I just haven't tried hard enough. I know these aren't really true, but I'm near daily having a similar argument in my head over. I know that at some point I have to defend this idea anyway if I ever want healthcare that isn't bought off shady online websites. I'm not sure how productive this deep thinking about my life is, but the more I do it, the more obvious the conclusion I'm trans as I remember more little data points and fit the jigsaw pieces of my life into a consistent narrative.
Thank you for sharing this!!
I struggled with a lot of the same feelings for much of my life. I lost track of how many times I called my dad, sobbing because I couldn't do man well enough and that it was so hard for me, a long time ago. That I hated being, or trying to be, a man for my whole life.
Therapy helped me a lot, but so did practicing something called radical acceptance. The basic idea is this: if something brings you joy, it's you, no matter how weird it is, and knowing that you'll probably never really understand why. Just let the joy into your life and trust what it brings.
Maybe it's a practice that might help you. It's not easy... but it's worth it.
So many years I cried because nothing I did was good enough. I couldn't make people understand that I was trying so hard.
And it wasn't that I wasn't good enough.
It was because I was trying to be something I wasn't.
When I started asking myself the question of who I wanted to be, I talked it over with my wife. And, even through she's poly and bi, that this would be a step too far.
How wrong I was. She told me that she had seen Shannon bleeding through for years now, knew that "cross dressing phase" in my 20's wasn't that.
When I said "if I transition", she said "it's not if, it's when".
She was right. It was when. And from the moment I journaled the fateful words of "I am a woman", she has been nothing but loving, supportive, and my defender.
We didn't have a reception due to pandemic. We made plans to have one when I finish grad school next year. When she told me she wants to renew our vows then, but with me as Shannon this time, I cannot begin to describe the sheer jjoy I felt.
All of my loved ones, and most of my friends, have been supportive of me. But my wife has been amazing. And I hope to be as good a wife to her as she has been to me.
It's funny. Reading this story (including the Part 1), I keep realizing that I'm picturing you as the new you, as the Zoe I know, not as the you from the before times. Even though I've seen photos of you from that era, my brain doesn't really connect that face with you. I imagine this experience gives me a little taste of what you meant when you said you can't remember being that person.
It does.
To be honest, I like to show my transition timeline a lot, and partly because it reminds me of exactly how far I've come, and in how short a time period.
You have indeed come so far! Keep on posting those timelines. I think they’re empowering and fascinating to see.