When I woke up this morning, this was the first thing on my mind.
(Well, technically, the first thing on my mind was “Oh my god, it’s Sunday and I can sleep in as long as I want!!! …oh wait. That was a dream. It’s Wednesday.”)
But anyway, as soon as I remembered where/who/when I was, the first thing on my mind was this.
“Oh wow. Up until tomorrow afternoon at 2:00, all of this will have been a fantasy, wishful thinking. Nothing is set in stone yet. But after tomorrow, I’m in for the long haul.”
Yes. My insurance FINALLY kicked in some time earlier this month, and tomorrow, I have my first official appointment with my gender therapist.
I’m actually fucking terrified.
This is the day I’ve been waiting on, uninsured, for two years, technically my whole life. But there’s really nothing in your life before that moment that can prepare you for walking in to the one person who has the power to help you, claiming that you were born into the wrong body, and begging them to fix it. There’s no precursor to it. It all comes down to that moment- is my case strong enough, or not? Are they going to try to dig up things from my medical past to disprove my psychological stability? Is this going to be one of those therapists who thinks that if I don’t cookie-cutter fit the binary, then I’m not trans enough? What if she thinks that if I’m not attracted to girls, then I can’t be trans? We all know these things aren’t true, but what if that course of the training hasn’t made it out to my neck of the woods yet?
And even after all that, once I make my case and she says I need to get on hormones ASAP… now I’m medically committed to something that has thus far been an intangible. Sure, I’ve been binding my breasts for two years, I’ve cut my hair, thrown away all my old female clothing, even tried to grow facial hair by my own means (not a very good idea.) But nothing I’ve done has been permanent yet. I’ve rearranged my social and professional life, but the pronouns aren’t sticking with everyone yet. In all technicality, if I decided to drop it all right here right now and just let it go and live my life as female henceforth, none would be the wiser.
Transition is ACTUALLY REALLY SCARY.
I was thinking all of this in the bathroom, and then I glanced at the mirror and I realized something.
There’s something that definitely scares me more than committing to live my life as a male, and that’s committing to life my life as a female. The idea of that doesn’t give me a couple jitters, some butterflies in my stomach, or a little case of commitment anxiety cold-feet. It makes me want to crawl out of my skin, rip babies heads off, projectile vomit, and start speaking in Latin while my head spins.
Let’s face it, no matter what I’m committing to, I do have a fear of commitment. It’s just my nature. The job I’m in right now is possibly the best thing that could happen to me, ever, and my first instinct is to abandon ranks because it’s a year commitment through Americorps. I’m in perpetual fight-or-flight mode just because committing to it makes me feel claustrophobic.
But what I’m doing right now is finding my way out of something that I had been committed to, without my permission, since the day I was born. I’m breaking free of that, and if I damn well don’t feel like fitting the binary once I AM growing facial hair, well then, there are ways out of that too.
So, screw cold feet. I’m moving forward, because dammit, if 21 years of gender issues don’t speak to my need for this, then I don’t know what will.