One year on T.

Today I am officially one year on testosterone. I never thought I would have made it this far. And soon I will be reaching my next milestone in my medical transition - top surgery. If all goes well I will be having it on May 21.

Looking back over the past four years since I joined this forum, a lot has changed. Many of you have probably followed my story but if you haven't I want to share some of what has gone on in the hopes of encouraging any of you who may be pre-transition or struggling to come out.

Spoiler

When I first joined this forum I was sixteen years old. I was in deep depression and struggling with self harm. I was closeted and terrified of coming out to my devoutly Christian family. All I knew was that I was trans. The only thing I could think about was starting my medical transition. I watched countless videos of people's transitions. I read countless stories of their journeys. If they could do it, surely I could too. So I began thinking of how to come out to my parents. One of two options: tell them before I moved out or after. I figured there was a 99% chance they would reject me, but I decided to go for the 1% possibility that they wouldn't. Over the span of six months I drafted my coming out letter. And on January 3, 2016 I gave that letter to my parents.

They didn't take it well. For months afterwards, I was sit down with my parents nearly every night to discuss it. They told me it was a sin, that transitioning would never work and never make me happy. They believed I was mentally ill and that the devil had a stronghold over me. They found a Christian therapist and took me to sessions in the hopes that I would be "cured" of my trans feelings. The therapist told me to put transitioning out of my mind because it wouldn't help. My parents took away the internet because to stop me from getting support or information about transition. They wouldn't let me out of the house alone. They took away all my masculine clothes and forbade me from cutting my hair. And for a while, things got quiet and the conversations stopped.

But I never lost hope that one day I could transition. I did my part in being honest with my parents. I knew that there was a lot I still had to do to prepare for moving out and starting transition. So I saved up every penny to move out and go to university. I reached out to a gender therapist in the area and got put on a waitlist. Filling out the applications for school, I secretly signed up to be put in LGBT housing. And finally, on my nineteenth birthday, I moved into the dorms and for the first time in my life introduced myself as Alec. In the months following I signed up for health insurance, found a gender clinic and scheduled an appointment with my new doctor. My date to start testosterone was December 13, 2017.

And then the wait began. I counted down every day until I could start T. I lived in the world of not-quite-passing as either a girl or a boy. A lot of people at work and school were confused about what I was. I regularly came out to professors and employers. It was a terribly awkward time. But I kept attending classes and life went on. But still I was weighed down by the fact that while at school everyone knew me as Alec, I had never come out to the rest of my family and friends. So on September 22, I drafted another coming out letter to everyone else to be posted to social media.

I had the letter in front of me and struggled for nearly an hour to press post. And then I did. And the secret was out. I stayed up all night, dreading the onslaught of messages that would come my way. The following day I received several phone calls. My grandparents said they didn't understand. My father called me and was irate and grieved. He told me he would never accept me, that I would never be able to see my family again, and that my transition was a form of suicide. I didn't know what to say. When he was done I just remember telling him I loved him, then he hung up.

The next day I checked myself into crisis therapy counseling on campus. I was broken by the rejection from my family. It would take another year for me to heal enough to even open up about it. I felt hopeless and sad. If my family would never accept me, what was the point of continuing to live? But I couldn't completely give up. People change. It was the one thought that kept me going.

And finally. Finally the day came. December 13 I woke up at 7 am. My appointment to start testosterone was at 10. My friend drove me to the doctor's office. I came in and walked up to the window, ready to see the doctor. The lady at the window informed me that my appointment was actually at 8. I had missed it. She told me we could reschedule to January 2. I could feel a knot in my throat and my eyes burned. On the walk back to the car the world spun. As soon as I sat in the passenger seat I started sobbing uncontrollably. I cried so hard my nose bled.

When Christmas break came at school I went with a good friend of mine to Alaska to be with their family. It was a beautiful experience that I will never forget. I felt completely accepted and loved by them. And it kept me hopeful while I waited for my new T date. But then one day during the break I remember receiving a call from the clinic telling me that the doctor was out of town that day and we would have to reschedule my appointment again. I cried yet again, thinking that I would never get to start T and that I would never be able to transition. And so the date was moved to January 9, 2018.

I waited again. When I got back from break I made a point to set several alarms early in the morning and I triple checked my appointment time. Finally, I went to the office on January 9 at 11am and got my very first shot of testosterone. My medical transition had officially begun and I was over the moon with joy.

The next few months were a whirlwind of changes. The first thing that happened was my voice. I dropped octaves within three months. My period left at six months. More and more I began to pass and up to today people see nothing but a regular guy when they look at me. I put on muscle, grew a little bit of facial hair, got a lot more body hair, and my voice finally settled down. I began then working toward getting top surgery. That required me to travel to San Francisco to have a consultation with the surgeon. My insurance would pay for it, but only if I had been on testosterone for a full year. So I would need to wait yet again. I had my consultation in the summer of 2018 and my surgery was scheduled for the summer of 2019.

Between all of the transition milestones I had also become homeless twice (the second time I was kicked out once the house owner found out I was trans) and struggled to hold down a job due to mental illness. But I continued in therapy and sought psychiatric help. I was put on medication to stabilize my mental health and today I am emotionally and physically the healthiest that I have ever been. I have a handful of close friends who support me through my transition and one of them has agreed to go with me when I have top surgery. I am in a church where the pastor knows I am trans and has loved me unconditionally, housing me the times that I became homeless.

Currently I am a full time student at university, employed, and giving myself testosterone injections at home now. I am continuing in therapy and regularly see my doctor to keep my mental and physical health in check. I talk to my mother regularly, and we've become very close in the past few years. She doesn't support my transition, but loves me as a person and continues to support me the best she can. My aunt openly supports me, as does my oldest brother. I am working to rebuild relationships with other family members and brothers of mine. I have a completely supportive church family and work environment. Everyone knows me as Alec now. I am done hiding and done hurting. This is the part of my life where I heal. This is the part of my life where I am free.

I share this with all of you to let you know that no matter what, there is always hope. There will be delays, broken promises, and rejection. Some people will look down on you for being trans. You may lose your job or your housing for being trans. You may be abused for being trans. And none of it is okay. None of it. But with all those hardships and shitty people there are also people who will love and accept you. There are people who will see the best in you and will stand by your side. There are doctors who will treat you and therapists who will help you along your transition.

And there is you, the most important piece of it all.

I always told myself that no matter how slowly I went, if I never gave up it would be impossible to fail. Even if it took me five or ten years to transition, I would have the rest of my life to live in a body that I was one with. Take that to heart. Right now it may feel like it will take an eternity to begin transition and that the whole world is against you. But have courage. Be smart and safe when you come out and make sure to have a support system if things go bad. Love yourself at every stage. Your health, mental and physical, is a priority alongside transition. You will get there. I'm in your corner, and so is every other trans person on this site. Always keep fighting.