Wow, so three weeks went by fast. I took my first dose of 2mg on tuesday night exactly three weeks ago today. I’ve been on 4mg a day since then and well, things have been different…
For the first week I wasn’t sure if it was just excitement or nerves or wanting so badly for something to finally make sense but I was in a perpetual state of near euphoria. …Maybe. It’s hard to gauge what is normal and what is euphoria when you never ever get to feel anything except numbness and pain. I’d lived in that state for more than 25 years.. (A quarter of a century man! How long you been in the mailroom? “25 years…” ) so I was really eager to find some solution to that first and foremost. Like really eager. Like I couldn’t even feel eagerness but I still managed to feel eager about that.
I had finally made peace with my life, and made peace with my fate. I had big ambitions for my life and I put a lot of energy into it. Like a lot a lot. I overplayed my hand, expended all my reserves in a feverish attempt to make sense of my life and set myself up with some kind of income. Now I feel spent. I need rest and a vacation from my life to recuperate but I don’t have to resources to do anything. I’m in debt, both financially and energetically, and I’ve still not even started my life yet.
I was always held back by something mysterious. Something just hasn’t been right from the beginning. And, well shit long boring story short, it ruined my life and I was fully ready to just check out. No one could help me and no one who mattered to me seemed to care. I was blamed for my life choices, for being lazy, for anything and everything except I was never taken seriously. No one ever stopped to question why I was suddenly so obsessed with the “proper” water to drink or why I went on a crazy fruit diet (which I’m still on because it actually is pretty awesome, it turns out.) I felt ignored and in some cases, betrayed. Whatever happened, no one ever really got to know me and I never got to live my own life because I was always in this pernicious and ultimately devastating pain. My brain just didn’t work right. I could feel it, I just couldnt describe it well enough to ever get a proper diagnosis or a friendly ear to listen to me and help me figure it out or understand it.
So, yes the first week was like a breath of fresh air coursing through an old dilapedated house, the doors flung open and sunlight streaming in and clearing out all the cobwebs. I started to see a future again. I was fully ready to wander over to the ocean leaving everything and everyone behind and just sit and meditate in open awareness until I either died of starvation or I felt miraculously better like the Buddha. A sudden unlocking of the mind into an infinite awareness that either healed me and brought me back into the world or took me, finally into the next.
Now I’m hearing my mom tell me how she only didn’t ever believe me because I was always so dramatic. (The irony of her telling me that is not lost on me.) The thing I’d love it if someone could understand though, is that I have never ever been dramatic. Not overly dramatic, not even just dramatic. Not anything except purely rational and focused on understanding myself and the world around me. It just so happened that I also had a broken mind and an out of control emotional center that eventualy pushed me to dissociate from both. Now I’m going off the rails again. I only want to emphasize that this is the situation I’m in going into week two.
Then Sunday came and I overdid it. I went surfing in the morning and then drove 4 hours one way to go see a cave in Sequoia National Park and back right after. One O’clock in the morning I finally made it back, nodding off along the way. Nodding of… Oh, yeah I can sleep now. Sort of. I haven’t been but I can. Oh, and I can eat too. My appetite is so strong and I don’t feel sick like usual. The next week was a shit show.
This third week, I was so tired I could barely do anthing and I was worried that my intial euphoria had worn off. I was so sad and despondent yesterday I reconsidered just joining a monastery or something. “Nothing has worked out in my life, nothing will work out in my life, my continued presence here is meaningless and only hurting people, I am nothing, I have nothing, I want nothing, I am nothing. Maybe you’re just tired, did you think of that, genius? Why don’t you try getting some sleep and not be on twitter all the time reading people’s petty hate ‘debates’ and watching Trump destroy his own presidency?”
…So I did, and I feel marginally better. Sleeping and eating properly really helps. I spent my entire life trying to be on track with that and failing constantly. But, even through that, while last week harkened back to my experience of life before 3 weeks ago, the one thing missing was the underlying pain of it all. I have problems. Adult problems, built up over years of neglecting my own life for lack of capacity to live it. Those aren’t going away sp quickly. But what wasn’t part of last week was the usual pain, the total numbness to everything.
I don’t know what’s true and what’s made up in my mind, and what’s made up in other people’s minds. I don’t know if I’m being gaslighted and I don’t know if I’m falling into someone else’s deluision. I don’t know anything at all and at this point I’m extremely sensitive all of that. The second week I started to feel things, like sadness, that I haven’t been able to feel for a very long time. One morning I woke up and I was in the shower, beaming. Just beaming. I had no reason for it but I didn’t question it, grateful for the rare experience. I had to lay down and just let the waves of euphoria wash over me. A little sun had turned on inside my head and I was high off my ass on nothing at all. Well, obviously I was on estradiol but, nothing that would have directly contributed to that.
My life is conflict. It always has been and is even more so right now. The only thing I know is that estradiol seems to be working to heal my mind. The other side of that though, the implications of staying on it are intimidating. I really just don’t think I have it in me to transition, and I don’t think I know how to be a transwoman pursuing acting, and I don’t really understand why that’s important to me, why I can’t let that go. The rest of it is also intimidating to be sure, even just living in the world as a kind of half-gender isn’t an exciting prospect to say the least. The acting thing is really the highest thing on my list, followed by I don’t want to lose my athletic ability, followed by having to manage human relationships, including the ones that I’m currently in as someone who is transitioning. And, in the end? I don’t even know why any of this is so important to me. But I can’t, no matter how hard I try, seem to make it stop.
Why do I have to care? Why is gender even all that important? I can only say that part of it seems entirely chemical. I just might need the hormones to have a normal mind. The rest? All I can say is that for my entire life after I started to change from puberty I haven’t been right at all with the world. I can’t explain it and I can’t describe it. I wish it weren’t true, and not a day has goen by since I finally decided to stop hiding from this 3 YEARS ago, that I haven’t wished, or tried to just live as a man and be done with it.