Another day, another thread. You know about the name now, but how did I start my transition?

Well... https://twitter.com/laelaps/status/1273069329794207745

November 2018 was tumultuous, to say the least. My partner of 15 years left for someone else, and, in sorting out what I wanted for my life, I came out as trans.

But where to start?

I didn’t know any other trans women or transfemme people at the time. I read, and learned what I could, and I tried to map out a timeline.

I didn’t have an end goal in mind, but I had to do *something.* I was sure if I didn’t move, if I didn’t try, I wouldn’t survive.

I was afraid. I was afraid of being told I wouldn’t qualify for HRT. I was afraid that I’d start hormone therapy and find it wasn’t for me. I was afraid that I wouldn’t find a way to live how I wanted to. How would I know what was right for me? I was changing my whole identity.

I ordered some dresses and makeup. I got a wig and breast forms. I wanted a proof of concept. Was there any hope I could someday be who I wanted to?

Yes.

But what now? I didn’t know where to get hormones and I was worried I wouldn’t have access here in Utah. And I wanted to go slow to start.

I always hated my body hair, so I decided to get that zapped off. No matter what I chose later, I’d be glad to have it gone.

The early steps felt right. At one point I went out in full femme in public... and it was ok! I felt more confident about starting hormones and the University of Utah hospital had a trans health clinic. By February, I knew I had to call.

At the time, finding the right # was a bit of a challenge. And I didn’t trust my existing physician. I’d had bad experiences with doctors letting their conservative politics dictate my healthcare. But I worked my way through the phone tree and set up a consultation.

I was excited. And scared. I was worried I would be told my dysphoria wasn’t real, just as I told myself for years. The doctor would either open a new path or blockade those possibilities. Any answer was scary, but there was only one I wanted.

Remember Quint’s soliloquy in JAWS, when he said he was most scared waiting for his turn to be rescued? That’s what it felt like. A possibility that was right there but might be barred off.

At the appointment, I related my story. It felt like a test I couldn’t prepare for. I took a big step, but would it be for nothing?

At the end, the doctor said “Yes, that sounds like persistent dysphoria.” We set up a day the next week for me to get my prescription.

There was suddenly even more to do. I wanted to give the hormones time to work, but I started thinking about having the hair on my face zapped, vocal therapy, top surgery, bottom surgery. They were all different layers of abstract potential, informed by who I wanted to become.

The first few months of HRT were rough. I wasn’t seeing physical changes, but the drugs made me TIRED. When I’d visit @The_Splash during our precious weekends together, I was very sleepy and I was worried she wouldn’t want a constantly-tired girlfriend.

Changes felt slow. I felt like the hormones weren’t doing enough, that I’d definitely want facial surgery, implants. I was fortunate to start the process but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to afford anything more than the pills as I struggled to make rent. How long would this take?

I tracked my progress through photos, looking for any discernible change in face shape or breast growth. The reason I take so many selfies from similar angles? It makes comparisons easier.

In retrospect, the changes were quick. I started HRT in March and by August my skin was softer, I had noticeable breasts, and I wasn’t dragging all the time.

By February of this year, I felt closer to Riley and further from Brian.

Much of 2019 was about wanting the change.

In 2020, I’m living it.