Sorry for the language, the length, and for the possibly triggering nature of this post. I just need to get this out. If you're in a rough place, please don't read on. I don't want to make things any worse for you. So, I'm nonbinary. Specifically genderfluid/bi-gender; I switch nearly every day between male and female. And while I know that nonbinary identities fall under the trans umbrella, I've never called myself trans or felt comfortable doing so. I've been comfortable as a butch lesbian since I came out for the first time at 17. Even when I came out again as nonbinary--over a year ago--I still felt comfortable identifying primarily as a gay woman. The only thing that changed was that I asked the people in my life to start using they/them pronouns. My name, my presentation, and my label did not change. While to most people that may not seem like a big deal, it was huge for me; I thought I would take my identity to the grave. But as time has gone on, I've found myself wanting hormones and a "real" transition more and more. Not because I identify as male, but because my dysphoria is so bad. The female side of me loves the body that I have; in order to fulfill my lifelong dream of having children and being a mother, I have to keep that body. I've never wanted to be a husband or a father, ever. But the male side of me hates my chest, my vagina, my hips; my voice, my name, my ovaries. I've been suffering for the past couple of years because I don't know what to do. I just...don't know. That's not a denial of anything. I truly don't know. If I don't transition, I know I will be unhappy. But if I do, I will be unhappy. Last night I read an article about Mike Penner/Christine Daniels, a famous sports writer who came out publicly in 2007, but ended up committing suicide after returning to their birth sex. (I don't know what pronouns Mike/Christine preferred, so I'm using neutral ones). Theirs is not the only story I've read. For a while--trying to force myself to be comfortable in my body--I explored trans-exclusionary radical feminism and picked up some pretty awful views. I read hundreds of stories of detransitioners, and their experiences served as a warning sign, keeping me away from exploring my dysphoria further. I've come to the conclusion that transition is a personal, private choice. But I digress. Reading about Mike/Christine, or Leelah Alcorn, or others...I just feel like no matter what I do I'm fucked. I'm beyond fucked. There's no place for me in this world. Either I stay in this body and live my life as a woman--getting married, getting pregnant, having children, etc--or I transition and risk losing everything. It's not that I'd be unhappy, but I think I'd be unfulfilled. I've been staring down this long, shadowy door of not-knowing for a long time: not knowing what hormones would be like, or surgery, or life as the opposite sex. And I want that. I want to see what that is like. But I also want the choice to go back, the choice to get pregnant, and the choice to be who I am regardless of what everyone else thinks. I just don't know how--if--I can transition and keep my choices open, or stay in this body and do the same. Everywhere I turn, nonbinary people are hated, mocked, and treated horribly. They're told they don't exist, that God hates them, and that they would be so much better/prettier/etc as their birth sex. It's trans people who get the public support, trans people who are seen as brave and inspiring--not me. I feel like there is no support for nonbinary people, and it makes me wish I could just not be here anymore. I'm a fucking disgusting freak who just needs to figure it out. (That's the voice in my head.) So do I come out again, as trans this time, and go through that whole process? Do I stay in this body and risk suicidal thoughts? I look at trans people and think, God, you're lucky. I wish I was you. But I also see the way they're treated, and it terrifies me. Add in to that mix the stories of transition regret/detransition, and my inner self is crying in a corner somewhere--identity be damned. I'm terrified of missing out, making a mistake, or (worst of all) dying alone. This is a mess, but I would love some advice. If you got this far, thanks for reading; if not, my apologies for boring the hell out of you.