....I guess a lot of my confusion about my own identity stems from the fact that I don't connect to the "classic" trans origin stories that are like, "I've known since I was 4" or "I've always hated being x" or "Puberty fucked me up bc it wasn't what I expected". And rationally I know there's so many other people whom it dawned on later in life, like me. But somehow that whole thing's making it harder for me to believe and to settle on something tangible, to put a name to the chaos.
Looking back at my life so far, all I know is that I've never felt particularly strongly about my body. Sure, there's been some discomfort, but that's neither here nor there, and most of it has been just. Indifference. I've been given x parts and society thus expects y from me, so that's the role we're going to play. A good portion of it did feel performative, I think.
But it just didn't occur to me until a good ways into my 20s that opting out was even a possibility. That shaping myself into a person I'd actually want to be instead of just tolerated was an option. And convincing myself, mustering the courage to step out of the box I've always known... that's the tough bit. And kinda the thing I'm stuck on these days. But I'm resolved to be patient with myself.
We'll get there, eventually. Wherever the fuck that may be.
