Grad school, right? Let me tell you something about graduate degree work: it is hard, exciting, and fulfilling. I love it. I love statistics. Figuring out which variables are dependent and independent based on Significance Level is exciting. I can’t explain it. It is what it is.
Maybe I am good at something for once.
Hormones, right? Let me tell you something about hormones: they are hard, terrifying, and ultimately worth it. I love them and I hate them. Maybe I am good at them, but I don’t think so. I don’t have to be. It is necessary for me. I am dealing with it. I am experiencing a level of normalcy that is throwing my gender dysphoria into whack and making me feel like the emotions are NOT normal when in fact the dysphoria is the thing being pushed away and normalcy is being let in. It is wonderful and confusing. I am emotional. In the past, the emotions always flooded in when I was depressed. I am not depressed anymore, but there are moments, or rather, days, of despair. I am told these are normal. I approach them with knowledge of who I am and what I am doing to be who I am. It is a great thing. It is good to own who you are and everything that comes with it. The hormones will never change who I am. I was a bastard, now I’m a bitch. There is no magic here, folks. Just reality accompanied by some emotional and physical changes. My brain is still a female brain. Always has been. I might even be a little neurotic. So be it. I am me, and now my body is following suit. That is all. That is all that hormones do for us MTFs; they allow us to fit in with our brains. Not other people. Not other transfolk. Ourselves.
The other night I was clocked at a gas station. Some kids getting into a car yelled out, as I walked through the parking lot, “What the fuck is that?” I was hanging out with friends who immediately started yelling at them, so I just walked into the store to talk to my friend at the register, Aurora. When I got home, I was upset. I posted some grandiose bullshit on Facebook and the next day I noticed that a friend and a relative unfriended me. While it might have been grandiose and over the top, I would never have thought that a family member would abandon me. It hurt. Surprisingly, it did hurt. I don’t even talk to this person. But it stung. I love that person very much.
I am not a shallow girl. I do care what my family thinks, even though I will never put their happiness over mine. That may sound selfish, but it really isn’t. In the dark, when the world sleeps and villains cross the gates, what woman worries about someone she used to know?
Maybe I am cynical? I don’t know.
I am hurt, sure.
But I am not an army. I don’t need an army. Some do, because they are weak. I’ll move happily through life on my own.
And I will do so as a good girl. (And if you believe that….)