The following has already been copy/pasted on several forums. I felt it deserved a place here, too.
As some of you already know, I’m a transsexual. I’ve been in therapy trying to start the transition procedure for close to a year. Earlier today I’ve had another session with my and shrink said that other than an overful schedule, there isn’t really any reason anymore not to go see the psychiatrist who will officially diagnose me and give me the prescriptions I need to start hormone treatment.
Needless to say, this is an announcement I have been waiting for for quite some time, and in many ways it marks the beginning of a next chapter in my life. Without doubt, in a few decades, when I look back on my life, I will think of the next few months as a milestone, where everything before now will be the life of Ty, the next few months he will begin to fade away and at the end of the run, only Helena will remain. This is a process that started about two years ago, when I started dressing as a girl, using that name among friends, and always ticked off the ‘female’ box in online surveys. My inner writer tells me to use this as a metaphor for growing up -which isn’t at all far-fetches as I’m closing in on my 22nd birthday.
What comes next will be an emotional rollercoaster. I will be given drugs that will greatly reduce my natural creation of testosterone, and replace it with estrogen. In many ways I will go through a second puberty as my body adapts to the new chemicals, just like a young girl’s body adapts: I will start growing breasts, my features will become more feminine, and there’s not a soul in the world who can tell me what I’ll feel emotionally.
I’ve heard of transsexuals who completely lost their drive during the period after they started on testosterone blockers and before they started taking estrogens. Some become depressed. Others are not affected at all. Some completely lose interest in what fascinated them before they started the treatment and pick up completely different hobbies. Quite a few transsexuals consider themselves gay within their ‘chosen’ gender, only to start developping feelings for the gender they came from, turning bi or even straight as time goes on. This is rare, but it happens. And when it does, I’m willing to accept it.
Also, mood-swings. Those are almost a certainty.
What is one hundred percent certain, though, is that my fertility is gone. The hormones have a serious and irreversable effect on the viability of my sperm cells as early as the first month, and even if I were able to make babies before the eventual operation, that’s no longer an option afterwards, since there is no way to transplant a live uterus and ovaries into another body. I have to decide now if I want to freeze sperm now in case I ever change my mind and do want kids (and remain gay), or rely on adoption.
What is certain, though, is that this transition period will be have the biggest impact on my life. Every other ‘big’ choice that I will make can be changed, with varying degrees of difficulty: if I find that my studies aren’t for me, I can do something else. If I take a job I don’t like, I can apply to another. If I buy a house or an appartment that’s more trouble than it’s worth, I can move. If I find a partner and things don’t work out, we can separate. The only other decision I might take that is equally irreversible is having children. Once I start taking hormones, my body will make irreversible changes. This is a point of no return. The idea frightens me. What comes ahead frightens me. The reaction of people who don’t know yet, or do know but haven’t accepted it yet, frightens me. But I’m prepared to face it all and start taking my first steps into the rest of my life.