I’ve been on a low dose of testosterone for nine weeks. And I am so exceedingly grateful that it was an easy process to start. I know that is not the case for everyone. I went through Plume and was met with nothing but trust and belief and well wishing and positivity.
So, yeah, nine weeks going on ten.
But I went on a walk yesterday. Not a special walk. Just a little loop around my neighborhood. And last week was a Big Week. Hard news and rejection letters and on and on and on.
And I realized:
I don’t think I’m ready.
And, honestly, yesterday I felt really ashamed by that revelation, but today- fueled by a mocha and The Lion King soundtrack- I just feel… good? Calm? I am remembering the initial relief of my realization that I am non-binary, that non-binary was even a thing I could be. How gender is not a thing I want to be locked into, how it makes me feel itchy around the edges.
I am grateful for each new step of this journey- grateful to have learned that being trans is a sort of freedom and that it doesn’t have to be a source of further restriction, of a deeper itch. I am trans without hormones, I am trans without surgery.
I am trans simply as Dani. I think I have been trans as Dani since the 4th grade and I just didn’t have the words.
And I think- for me and only for me- I need to continue making peace with my body as it is before I consider again changes for me which are very emotional.
I want to love this body that has been kissed by a whale, that has run half marathons, that has gotten lost in New York City and been found again by the promise of dinosaurs. This body that can rock a suit as well as it can rock a little floral dress. I am interested in loving my body only because it is mine and because I say I do, you know?
My point, I suppose, is this: You are who you are and your path is only yours and you don’t owe anyone else a damn thing. If hormone therapy is your path, you’re a fucking rock star. If you’re still not sure, you’re also a fucking rock star. It does not diminish your truth or your transness. You are enough, you always have been.
I will run a half marathon again in this body I am learning to love. I will gently pet the fur of my sleeping cat. I will hug you, I will drink too many sugary coffee drinks, I will be magnificent.
It has been over a year since I stood onstage at the Highland Ballroom and declared: Behold me. I am not a man, I am not a woman, I am an ethereal fucking being.
And so I am.