I’ve been injecting testosterone into alternating thighs every two weeks for the past 3 years or so. Sometimes I wonder if it’s doing what it’s supposed to be doing because my dose is too low. Sometimes I wonder what’s it’s supposed to be doing in the first place.
Ever since my trip back home, I’ve been thinking a lot about coming out. To your parents. Specifically, the part that happens after you come out: having them come to terms with you.
Four and a half years post-op, I’ve compiled all the questions about my top surgery in one neat post.
Video update in which I talk about being on low dose testosterone for over 3 years.
Another year, another milestone. For archival, informational, nostalgic purposes, go back to my 2 Year mark, and my progress after the 1st Year. If you’re new here, check out the top […]
Thus I awoke just before 4am, heart racing, as present-me was navigating my life 10 years ago.
Through my personal experience, I address common questions about Testosterone, primarily the effects of being on a low dose, and the effects of starting and stopping.
It’s not about “passing” (whatever that means), it’s not about a “successful” transition (whatever that looks like) or a “complete” transition (life is never complete). It’s simply a spectrum of who you tell about your trans status. And as a non-binary person, I still wield the power of disclosure. It just took me a while to realize this.
As I envision the person I’ll become in 5, 10, 25, or even 45 years, I’m certain everything about me will change, including my gender – how I feel about it, how I look, how others see me. Being trans is a lifelong condition, just another part of being human.
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.