I don’t even know how to describe this feeling I’m having these days.
As a non-binary transfem who is stuck in the US for at least another 4 years, this shit is getting hard. It’s really difficult to keep myself from spiraling sometimes.
I have HRT and I feel like it’s a vice I have that I’m both addicted to and have to hide like someone using heroin or cocaine.
If I take my HRT then I feel okay with myself and I can make it another day, while my body is propelled through changes that I so desperately want, that I need. “Progress,” I tell myself. “Self-love,” my friends tell me. “Your truth,” the Internet tells me. It took so long and so much effort to get here, the years of suffering, waiting in anguish to turn 18 and get HRT, then the arguments and deals with my parents to get their blessing, the relationships I burned when I made my choice, the pains of hiding myself from people who “don’t agree” with my choice.
But now I’m here, I’ve won, “I’m so lucky,” everyone tells me. “I’ve made it!” I tell myself. But I don’t feel it. “You’ve made it!” I scream into the mirror. “You’re so lucky!” I whimper, through tears streaming down my face sitting in my shower.
Every day, I see the world I live in, I see the people around me, I see the options in my future. I see pain in other trans people. I see us being killed and tortured for nothing at all. I see people I once knew and loved being fed a dogma that tells them that I am the worst possible thing they could face. That I’m dangerous, unstable, ready to ACT OUT and rape someone’s daughter at a moment’s notice. I see the industry I want to go into close more and more doors in my face. I look out and see a future, my future, the future I want so desperately, held up on a pedestal labeled “cis people only.”
Every day, I take my HRT, because I need to. Every day, my body changes, because it’s being programmed to. And every day I hate myself for it because of what hardship and pain I’m making for myself.
“They are the bonds that hold me tighter, they are the chains that weigh on me.”
So often do I want so desperately to stop my HRT but when I do, it hurts. So often do I want to live free and be trans and happy, but when I do, it hurts.
Every morning, at the bathroom counter with my pills I consider it all again. “What kind of pain do I want today?” At least I still get to choose. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the idea of refusing to choose looms ever closer.
“What if I don’t choose? What if I take the easy way out?” There are days when that thought looms dangerously close. “Can I start again, erase this pain?” I want so desperately to follow my fallen friends, to join them wherever they may be, knowing I will only be free when I am gone.
But every time I feel like I can’t do it anymore, I pick up the pills and think of my partners. They are the hopes that hold me here. “For love I will stay. For love I will stay,” I scream into an uncaring void.
I hope one day, I’m either strong enough to find the solution, or I’ve exhausted my options such that I can simply leave.
dailybridgerton
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