eight-month hormoniversary, 22nd july 2013.
i’ll try to keep things shorter this time. i’m actually very tired today, and i don’t have it in me to write something lengthy.
there have been reasons to celebrate this month. last monday, on a very proud day, i officially became adelie freyja annabel with a stroke of the judge’s pen. i was able to share that day with my mom and grandmother, with my friend nathalie and with another trans friend who was in court to get his name changed as well. two days later, the trans group i’m involved in screened a documentary for an audience of more than 100 people in downtown duluth, an event i helped create. it was one of the first times i felt like i had finally made some sort of mark on a community since moving to duluth. the film was very well received, and i was so gratified to see so many people there.
on a number of occasions during this last month, there have been nights where i thought to myself, “i’m exactly where i want to be right now." usually on those nights i was with friends, or a friend, and in a comfortable situation, and all of the anxiety and shyness and fear that came with beginning the transition sort of just melted away for a while. yesterday, in fact, i was in rochester for pride. i spent the time with good friends, and my love and appreciation for them was only reaffirmed, as it is every time i see them and am reminded of how they’ve stuck with me through all of this and how they act as if my transition is the most natural thing in the world.
privately, when i’m alone, my feelings have been mixed, and i’ve been in some darker places. i often can’t see what others see, and when they tell me the progress they’ve noticed, i am flattered and thankful, but i really only half-believe them. when i interact with strangers, anything less than a sparkling, sunny, cheerful demeanor on their part is interpreted by me as, “this person is judging me." partly because i visit them a lot, i notice this particularly in coffee houses, where you have to stand face to face with the barista. i can barely look them in the eyes sometimes. if i keep my head down, they won’t start questioning things. but then i realize how ridiculous that sounds. because of course they’re questioning.
but obviously, the sense of relief from transitioning, of mending your soul, of feeling like you have a chance to survive, is strong enough that you accept that there will be many scary, soul-crushing moments. you hope and pray things will get better, that you won’t look like “that guy in a dress," that you’ll achieve a sense of comfort and confidence in who you are and how you look, that people will just take you at face value as a woman. but until then, you try to live a life, because you don’t really have any other choice.
and so, like most months, the experience is a mixed bag. i guess that’s part of the experience of growing up all over again, with all of the awkwardness and uncertainty and self-doubt. but this month there have been some really nice moments, and even a few where i felt a little slice of “this is the woman i’m going to be someday."
i just wish i could see it in the mirror.