The Impossible is Reality
I once asked myself, “when will my transition be complete?” After which I questioned the underlying assumption, wondering “how can my transition ever be complete?”
As a non-binary person this seemed impossible. How could I ever feel like my journey was over if I could never physically, socially, or legally attain my goals? As a person who wanted to remain in-between (or outside of) a gender binary that envelopes the world, I did not know what that end state – or what I – would look like. At the time I was blind to one particular point: as I changed, my goals would change with me.
For starters, I couldn’t even conceive of my idyllic plans as falling within the realm of possibility. Everything I’ve done with my body – from top surgery to gradual low dose hormones to a hysterectomy – was, at some point, a new discovery, its mere existence surprising. Researching how that process could be made accessible to me was an even more difficult undertaking. Yet here I am: all the things I dreamt of, as well as those I could not yet conceive of, are a done deal.
A little over two years ago, I candidly agonized over pronouns: whether I had the right to change them, whether others would respect the change, and what the heck I should even change them to! Instinctively, I knew what would make me more comfortable, but it would take work, and I was afraid of the risky repercussions. So I resorted to my favorite defense mechanism: rationalization of the status quo.
As for my name, it was only a matter of time before I stumbled on the perfect one. With one big leap of faith, I quickly made it official.
And since I’m already doing all of that – I thought – I might as well go full circle and get that stupid little piece of paper changed. Ironically I was always more confident in my decision to legally declare myself capital-M-Male than in being referred to as one by my friends.
But I’m still not there yet. My experiments with testosterone are ongoing, having taken up my hormone regimen again as of April 1st after recently suspending it in January. Currently I’m in the middle of the harrowing process of changing my legal gender on my Mexican birth certificate. And I can’t stop thinking of everything that lies ahead.
So why do I feel done?
The Case of Disappearing Trangst
The measuring stick for my trangst (transition-angst) has been whether I start our Saturday morning off with a “Honey, we need to talk.” While transition will likely be a part of my life for a long time – after all, being trans has sort of become my second profession – I can’t remember the last weekend we spent flooded by such conversations.
Regardless of what I no longer feel, it seems illogical to declare myself post-transition when I’m still in the middle of everything: the name and pronoun switch happened less than a year ago, I’m barely 4 months fresh out of my latest surgery, and while my name and gender have been legally recognized for 6 months (at least in this country), my new driver’s license arrived just a few weeks ago.
Nowadays, wrapping up the loose ends seems more of an exercise in paperwork rather than self-reflection. The best description I can offer for my current position is that I’ve got everything figured out, it’s just a matter of going through the motions.
I’m much more sure of the path I’m taking. I feel I’ve made not only tremendous progress, but that I’m certainly closer to the “finish.” What that looks like I still don’t know, but – as with life – nobody knows. I just finally feel complete.