Transgender Life: The Good, The Bad, and The Beautiful
The past month was the best of times; it was the worst of times.
OK, the past month has not been Victorian classic kind of comedy and tragedy, but it did serve to remind me why I publish these articles.
Not quite three months ago, I began writing because I felt something strange after beginning transgender hormone therapy. More precisely, what is strange is that I felt anything at all. My life has been characterized by dissociation — I did not sense that events occurring in my general vicinity were happening to me. Instead, the accomplishments and failures appeared to occur to a different person.
When I began hormone therapy, however, an entire vista into human experience opened. Suddenly, I recognized that life has far more color than I ever dreamed. In the past month, four stories have presented themselves that remind me of my purpose — two stories to describe peaks of joy, two stories to describe pits of depression. These have renewed my sense of direction heading into 2023.
The Good
When Transcurrent Explorers launched as a Discord community dedicated to all who would explore their gender identity, I made several new friends. They inspired me to buy a Meta Quest to play “Beat Saber” online. In plain terms, a Meta Quest is a virtual reality game system, and “Beat Saber” is a game that challenges you to slice at flying blocks with lightsabers in time with music (watch the video — it will all make sense).
Having decent rhythm, I always wanted to enjoy rhythm games. But I never have. I struggled to let go, to get into the flow of music, and to dance. Many years ago, I wanted to enjoy “Dance Dance Revolution,” yet the action of moving an unfamiliar, hated (and probably drunk) body prevented me from acquiring any skill. I blamed it on my clumsy, masculine (and probably drunk) physique.
Now, in Beat Saber, I dance! I love to sway, undulate my arms, and feel the body I didn’t understand move gracefully in ways I do understand. I experience the sheer joy of movement I only captured before hormone therapy during long-distance running — and then only as a method of escaping myself and my thoughts, not embracing them.
This holiday season, I spent time with nieces I have known, but never attempted to connect with. My wife invited them to our house for dinner, and although I cannot explain why, both responded very favorably when they found out I am transitioning. They complimented me on my new name, my purple nail polish, and my amethyst nose jewelry. I felt validated and affirmed.
Between dinner and the day we opened holiday gifts, my nieces asked their mother to order a gift for me and ship it as quickly as possible. The family opened gifts in the morning, and in the early afternoon, the doorbell rang — it was the mail carrier arriving with a package.
My nieces had chosen a packet of lavender bath salts and an Amethyst eye shadow palette. Both gifts are so appropriate — the scents and colors precisely my style. Best of all, the gifts were addressed to “Auntie Ame.” It was a perfect end to my first holiday in transition, an amazing connection with my two wonderful nieces.
Analysis: transgender life is ecstatic!
I have never felt the clean joy of life as briskly as I feel it now. My body and soul resonate with my transition. I feel my connection to the world, to other people, and to myself. (In fact, sometimes when nobody is looking, I cup my buttocks or breasts and marvel at how I have transformed. I guess I just outed myself in that regard — no need to check for anybody looking any longer!)
The Bad
Unfortunately, not every day of transition has brought such positive feelings. Like many transgender women, I searched for a community where I could explore who I am as I began down my path. One community appeared to fit me well. Later, however, I perceived slights targeted obliquely toward me — to the point of insults. Other members of the community asked me if those comments hurt my feelings.
To be clear, most people in the community appeared to like me. I still have relationships with them. Others — more vocal and more ingratiating — must not like me. I stopped engaging. When a pejorative term of transgender jargon was brought up and dismissed as a group of idiots, I looked it up. I realized the term applied to me; I left the community.
As I left, I fell into a deep depression. I don’t believe everybody in the world needs to love me. I know it will not happen — and it still hurts when I receive a demonstration. For five days, I had difficulty talking and walking. I hated myself. I cried. I wanted to punish myself.
These symptoms were common before hormone therapy; the duration was not. I typically went to bed, closed my eyes, and dissociated until I forgot the whole thing — usually two days. Depression hits me harder now, just as joy lifts me higher.
My final story happened in the last week. I went to bed on Friday night tired, with a mild headache. I did not expect to spend a night of fevered dreams, solving transgender name change puzzles for Stephenie Magister ✨as Wilson Phillips’s “Hold On” played in the background over and over. My head cracked with a migraine. It was easily one of the most painful experiences of my life (and not just because of Wilson Phillips — I liked that song when I was a kid).
I woke the next morning in terrible pain. The next two full days were more of the same — fevered dreams through the haze of a migraine (although the puzzles changed to Magic: The Gathering combat: cold comfort, I avow).
The worst feeling I had during this illness is fear: fear that I had caused my pain by beginning hormone therapy. It is untrue — I tested positive for COVID the morning of the fourth day, but the thought that I had brought this pain on myself lurked in the background.
Because I do not want to stop.
Analysis: transgender life hurts!
I did not feel emotional or physical pain as keenly as I feel them after beginning hormone therapy. What used to be dissociated away over the course of a weekend sticks in my ribs like a stiletto knife. I’m not sure even cupping my buttocks could ease that pain (although I suppose it’s worth a shot).
The Beautiful
I wrote my first article in response to changes in cognition I experienced when I began hormone therapy. Since then, I attempted to build a theory of cognition around the level of dissonance between our internal perception of identity and the external shell we observe. I named the dissonance The Reflection, as it represents a dissociation to whom our failures can be assigned. Unfortunately, The Reflection also assumes the positive outcomes in our lives.
Now, almost six months into hormone therapy, I feel far more alive. By identifying with myself, I feel joy, I can love, I can dance — and yes, I feel depression and physical pain acutely (not to mention that Wilson Phillips soundtrack). The primary lesson I learned in the last six months is that life does span joy and pain, but both experiences can be rewarding. I did not understand that last before my transgender journey.
I am convinced The Reflection describes more than one transgender woman’s experience. The Reflection describes a general model of blocked cognition. My writing has veered into topics I wanted to cover, but I recognize I need to refocus my purpose. Why is identity so important to healthy human experiences? How can we foster a sense of self when the world shuts us up? Why is that sense of self critical to humanity’s evolution?
Right — back to work.
