It’s been a day. Sunny in the morning, cloudy in the evening. From dancing in my underwear, to sobbing silently in the back seat of my parents car. It’s been a rollercoaster. Let me explain…
I woke up this morning to another sunny day in southern Nevada, perhaps a bit earlier than I would have liked, but I was in a good mood. Signing in the shower, and dancing in my underwear to some of my childhoods greatest hits, good!
As I got ready I examined myself in the mirror and decided I looked cute in my girly shirt, and new ear rings.
The days agenda was one of shopping at the outlet mall downtown Las Vegas. I was excited to spend some quality time with my family, while possibly finding some cute outfits at a bargain.
I grabbed some Dunkin’ on my way to my sister’s house. Gotta have my coffee. All seemed well, my spirits were up.
The first store we walked into was Adidas, where I was promptly sir’d by a young man asking, if he could assist us. Not that I expected him to greet me any other way, but in a way this set the tone for the rest of the day.
As we wandered from store to store, I found myself admiring the droves of shoppers and how they moved about, seemingly without a worry in the world. Never having to question their gender, never worried about being put into question for the way they move, dress, talk, sound… for showing interest in the wrong item.
As I watched silently, I realized that I did not know what that felt like. I have always felt watched, judged, unable to comfortably move about in a store just minding my own business. Even when I was presenting male, shopping for boy things, I always felt this way, for as long as I can remember.
Wondering, if I would ever get to a point where I felt this comfortable, to just be myself, unapologetically – this made me sad. This sadness loomed over me for the remainder of the day, with my hormones rearing their ugly head. I couldn’t shake the feeling of needing to just cry.
I realize that feeling this way is completely irrational. I have been on HRT for less than 3 months. I lived as a man for more than 3 decades. I don’t know what I was expecting as I walked out the door this morning.
I am typically the person who everyone expects to have their shit together, but sometimes I just need to be a little irrational. To cry… to throw a tantrum… to spill my heart out… to have someone take pity on me, and tell me that everything will be alright.
I know that tomorrow will be a new day, with a new outlook. I understand that not all is lost, and that I have every reason to be hopeful for the future. I can’t tell you how blessed I am to have a loving, supportive family, and amazing friends to boot. But for now, I just need a good cry.