I stared at my cellphone. The phone number was there, I just had to press the icon of the phone to place the call. I couldn’t.
The second day I did it. I explained to the person on the other end that I had called about being able to get an assessment for hormone replacement therapy. They thought that this wasn’t the right extension, but that they’d find the individual I was trying to get to and have them call me. They then asked me for my number. I froze.
I couldn’t remember my own phone number. This had never happened. My old phone number came to mind. Was that my old one? My new one? I knew my email address. Could I give them that instead? They then read off her Caller ID and asked me if that was my number. It was. Thank goodness.
I got a call back. I was told that this was a new program, and that they’d call me next week to schedule an appointment with for the assessment. That was in May.
It doesn’t feel two months have passed.
I’ve seen the social support worker twice now. I have four more appointments to go before I can get a referral to an endocrinologist. I’m really grateful for the program that’s giving me these free appointments, because the other avenue of approaching my family doctor just wasn’t an option.
How far I’ve come, in so many ways. For those who have been around me during this time, especially those that just listened and opened up to me, I’d like to thank you. One of my greatest obstacles had been to overcome this feeling that what I was experiencing wasn’t real because it didn’t share the resolve of that narrative I heard over and over. You broke that perception down, and in doing so, made me feel a little less alone.
There are many unknowns that remain in me. My head is a mess of strong emotions and anecdotes, wishes and pains. I’ve nonetheless decided to go ahead with the process of acquiring hormone replacement therapy. To make that call, book the appointments. First out of fear of deep regret if I waited while my body further masculinized, and then out of a nascent sense of confidence.
The more time passes, the more I’m sure that that was the right thing to do. Having a future where my body becomes a part of me that helps me find joy, as opposed to being an impediment to that, is becoming viable. I don’t want to give the impression that everything is certain. It isn’t. But stories from those around me has given me strength to find myself, and I know that I won’t regret anything as I move forward.
So where does that leave you and me.
At this time, if I’m asked for my preferred pronouns, I answer they/them. I don’t correct people that use ‘he’. I don’t feel like either the trans or cis label fit me, jokingly referring to myself as gender fucked. You can use genderqueer. I would also caution against the erroneous assumption that my choice of labels diminishes the importance of transitioning for myself.
Finally, I want to thank everyone that’s shown me kindness and acceptance.