Anon joins me for his second post on my blog. This blog is a bit more dark, and reveals more of the dangerous iceberg of being trans, and in relationships.
MAKING THE decision to transition from one sex to the other is a personal decision. It belongs to you and no one else. It’s not an easy decision to make; you may have carried it in your back pocket for a long time, right alongside the pocket of self-loathing. Or it may have been a sudden epiphany, a light bulb that went off and when it did all the begrudging and darkness you felt suddenly made sense and this revelation showed you a means to an end. Maybe it was a little of both or none at all. Nevertheless, at some point you made the final decision that skulking about in the wrong body in an act of complacency was no longer acceptable.
Chances are it was a weightful unloading. I know when I made the decision to shed my old body, I felt light as a feather. There was an inkling of utter fear too, but by god, I felt alive. I was giddy with the new horizon. And I went home and told some key people. I told my kids first. Then told my best friend. Then I told the rest of my friends, and then I told my parents. Well, one of them at least (so far). Not one had any derisive responses. Even mom took it better than expected. I felt charged because I had taken the second step of my decision, coming out about it. And while it’s not their decision to make, I got the green light support from them. Step three for me was purging my closet. I had a lifetime of clothes collecting and despite having always seen myself as male, I didn’t always wear men’s clothes. I didn’t play pretend by dressing up ‘boyish’. I had plenty of men’s clothes, but I also had unisex clothes and I had girl’s clothes too, because my body was shaped like a girl’s and sometimes it was easier to roam about under the radar and flow through life without swimming upstream on every stroke. No one can survive under that duress.
My next step was scheduling an appointment with a counselor to be okayed to start testosterone therapy.
So what do all these steps have to do with this drift, I mentioned? I’m about to tell you. You see, while you are cleaning house on your little island and getting it ready to serve the new body you will start to develop, before you know it, everyone else is going to start to drift away from you. Even those who gave you the green light to go for it, who backed you and were happy that you were finally going to do what should have been done a long time ago. They are drifting. And by the time you notice there won’t be anything you can do to change it. I want this to sink in for you, because if you felt alone or stranded being a guy in a girl’s body or a girl trapped in a man’s body before, you are going to feel utterly cast away once you start the hormone treatments. Now don’t get me wrong, I didn’t say they stop loving you or stopped supporting you. What I am saying is you are changing into someone else, and guess what? They’re friendship or partnership doesn’t know how to change with you. It’s a subconscious derision. Most may not be aware of it. But somewhere deep inside their thoughts you aren’t really you anymore. You used to be a girl–despite you ‘saying’ you’re a guy, and to their eyes you’re still a girl–they know your genitals are female, so their brain still says girl. Even if they call you ‘he/him’, in respect to you, you used to do ‘girl’ stuff. Now the ‘guy’ part is starting to sink in, and you find yourself not getting invited to hang with the girls as often as before.
It’s the same with your guy friends. To them, you were the chick who acted like one of the guys, only you looked better at it, and to them that was cool as shit. Only now, you’re actually trying to be a guy but the stigma is you can’t really-really be a guy, ‘cause well… you’re a girl.
A lot of this has to do with how in their minds they perceived you, as well as how they saw you both visually and mentally. Being a non-transitioned gender outwardly has a lot of the same continuities of a fantasy. You can say you’re an alien from the Planet Kaytar all you want, everyone else still sees a human, and that is a perception we’ve lived with. Everyone still saw a girl no matter how many times we called ourselves a boy, so their relationship was still with a girl. This especially rings true for those who might be in a sexual relationship with one of us. Just think about it for a moment (I’ll use me as my own example). I’m a gay man trapped inside a female body, I started to date a straight guy, who thought he was getting a girlfriend. But now his ‘girl’ is starting to look more like a guy and even his guy personality is becoming challenging to his own masculinity (don’t get huffy here–male ego is a biological presence and is often an involuntary reaction). Aside from putting his masculinity into question, now the dark realization comes up. My partner is now faced with his sexuality: how can he still be straight when I have turned our relationship into a gay one? Remember I started off with a straight guy. Even if he were Bi, that is no guarantee he will be comfortable with a trans-male in his bed. But my straight guy, despite any words of support he might have given, may find the reality of me turning him gay might not sit well with him at all.
Now I know what many might say to this, “If he loves you, he will accept you for who you really are.” I have heard it a dozen times. I’ve seen it told to others a hundred times more. I’ve seen husbands tell their wife-soon-to-be-husband they will still love the human. But this is reality, the moment we started taking hormone shots, the fantasy mirror was shattered. ‘Saying’ is not the same as ‘going through with it’. And I am telling you now, that’s bullshit to put that kind of judgement on friends or partners. Sure, they may always still love you and support your decision, but remaining intimate or close friends might turn out to be more of a transition for them. You see, you chose to transition. They didn’t. In addition, they may not be able to let you drag them into the trans world with you.
Does this mean you are doomed? Of course not, you just might make it after all. You’ll have a better chance at it if you put these coordinates on your map so you can navigate about these rough seas when you approach them. No sailor plans on smooth sailing; he plans for the worst and packs accordingly. Please do so in this as well. You are about to change the course of your life. No other journey will be as great as this one, so don’t plan foolishly and expect your travel companions and friends won’t ever get sea sick. The drift will happen. You can no more change it than you can stop the drifting between land masses on the globe. But you can have some rope handy to throw a line and pull yourself back together. It’s just going to take some time, a lot more talking about them than you thought and perhaps a really really long line of rope.
And if the rope can’t pull you back together, don’t be afraid to cut the ropes, set them free to sail on peacefully and never throw your anchor out again. Remember, making this decision to transition is a personal one, one you made. You will have to let them make their own decision to transition their relationship with you and brace yourself that some drifts never stop drifting, because they can’t.
Anonymous gay guy, born without his penis
Post script: my writing isn’t meant to bring answers. Nor are they for guidance. As there is no one answer any trans guy can give to another because not one of us has the same life scenario; we’re not in the same place of transitioning, or the same age, or the same level of support or lack of. So answers can’t be given. I write them as a means to handing you a flashlight, to better see the trail you’ve set before your feet, hoping you might not stumble as often as could happen. In the process, I might see more too.