Honestly I thought this would stop hurting at some point

I picked up Becoming a Visible Man again this evening. I got about halfway through before putting it down last time, but it’s been perhaps a year, so I thought I’d begin at the beginning.

It hurts. The beginning of BAVM, like many trans books, talks about the author’s childhood experiences, and how they slowly come to terms with their identity.

But when I try to reach back to my childhood, there are few clues. I remember a couple – like being so happy every time I got to play a ‘male’ role, both in ballet and in theatre. But mostly it was heavy suppression of who I am.

I tried so hard not to be trans. I tried so hard. And the memory of that still festers in me. It’s like an old wound that is still rotting below the surface, never properly healing.

When I really want to hurt, to press the wound so the pain flares up, I try to think how I would have been if I’d transitioned earlier, even as a teenager.

I don’t know what to do to ease this visceral pain. I feel like beginning my transition should’ve helped, but it only helps with my discomfort with how I present now, not with my discomfort with my past.

It’s a hell of a time for my psych to be on holiday, I guess.