Zach: "It’s never too late to find out who you are."
It’s a common assumption that transgender people (regardless of how late in life they might decide to transition), know from an early age that they were “different” from their peers and recall instances in childhood where they expressed a gender identity contrasting their birth sex.
Girls who cut their hair short, boys who preferred to wear dresses. Of course, gender identity doesn’t always fit into such neat little binary boxes, but for a lot of trans folk, the signs were there from the very start. But, that’s not always the case.
I was eighteen years old when I realised that my life up till that point, to be a bit dramatic, was a lie. I remember being at a very stressful point in my life, having just overcome intense A-Level exams, left an unsatisfying relationship, and was trying to help my sister deal with depression. I sat down on the arm of the sofa, head feeling like it was about to explode, when it hit me.
A strong, resonate thought that shook me to the core: I don’t want to be a girl anymore.
Needless to say, I was freaked out. Where had that thought come from? I had never considered that I was unhappy being a girl before. I was always a bit of a “tomboy”, but the same could be said of a lot of my female friends. I had quite a sheltered upbringing, having spent my teen years living with my grandparents. So I had no idea it was even possible to change gender - until I turned to the internet for advice.
I struggled for a good year with who or what I was. My body became unfamiliar to me. I can’t express how terrifying it is to look in the mirror and see a stranger staring back, or how often I felt the burning need to claw off my skin in frustration. I’d never paid much attention to my body before – it just was what it was – but the signifiers of femininity became alien to me.
Hearing my name, one that I’d been addressed as thousands of times before, made me shudder. Being referred to as “she” or “her” would make me feel sick. I’d look at guys on the street and constantly compare myself to them. Did I want to look like them, be with them, or both? Why was I happy to have thick leg hair, for my voice to be lower than other girls, for my heart to skip a beat with joy if someone was to accidentally call me “sir”?
The stress of it overwhelmed me to develop anxiety and depression. I was often too afraid to walk in the classroom at university if I was late for class, instead running home and hiding under the duvet. I struggled with socialising as I felt like I had to put on a persona, wear a mask, around my friends; it hurt to be with them when I couldn’t be truly happy in their company. I either ate too much or not enough, and I’d sleep for 12 hours a day.
There were happy moments, of course, but I was constantly worrying if I was “man enough”, examining every aspect of my personality and appearance for signs that evidenced I really was trans. I was emotionally and mentally drained 24/7.
I think the turning point was finding an amazing counsellor. I’d seen a few others who had been very unhelpful – one even said I wanted to be a man as I didn’t have a father figure in my life because my parents were divorced! But this counsellor was a godsend. Laid-back, open-minded, a friend I could depend on. When I started desperately trying to convince him I really was trans, as I had done with previous counsellors, he just nodded and was like, "Sure; if you say you’re a guy, then you’re a guy."
That’s when I had another revelation: I was overthinking everything. I couldn’t help how I felt. I am who I am, and that’s that, no matter what anyone else tells me to think or feel or be. Even if I wasn’t 100% masculine in terms of my personality and interests, it felt more right to me than it was to identify as female.
Things started to get better from then. My self-esteem slowly crept back up and I took baby steps towards growing more comfortable with myself as a man: I cut my hair shorter, bought men’s jeans and spread my legs when I sat down.
I was fortunate enough to have a mother and sister who were more understanding than I could have dreamt. Even though it upset them that they were losing a daughter and sister, they were happy to see the confident, care-free young man I was becoming. My sister actually helped me pick a name that better suited me – picked from a video game, of course, what else would a nerd choose?
I told my friends one by one, taking them aside in private and blurting out that I was actually a guy, terrified of their reactions. I was bewildered that none of them were surprised and adjusted within seconds after the initial shock. I was expecting angry backlash, tears, questions, but they all just hugged me and said they were happy for me. With every person who accepted me, it was like a weight being lifted off my shoulders until I could hold my head up high and breathe easier.
It was another year before I could start to transition medically, partly due to my own anxiety and partially with delays in the system. It was incredibly frustrating. Every day seemed to crawl by agonisingly slowly. I managed to hang in there, supported and encouraged by my friends and family, until the day I was prescribed testosterone - aka, a miracle in a sachet.
Within a fortnight, my body had started to change. It was exhilarating, seeing my body change before my very eyes to something much more beautiful and familiar-feeling to me. I could finally see me in the mirror, not some girl I didn’t know. With the physical changes came emotional ones too – it became increasingly easier for strangers to read me as male, until it got to a stage where I could pass as cisgender male.
The goal I’d been striving towards for so long was now a reality, my normal. The life I lead now is drastically different to six years ago. I’ve got a full-time job, just finished a Masters in Creative Writing, have more friends that I can count, a boyfriend who accepts me for me, and top surgery just around the corner. I sometimes wonder how I managed to get so far, something I’m now working on in therapy. I wish I had started the therapy earlier. I kind of realise now what it’s all about.
My advice to anyone going through the same thing is don’t lose heart – If you don’t have the support around you, get yourself support and a good therapist!
If you resonate with Zach's story and are looking for support, know that help is out there. If you’re ready, you can start your therapy journey by simply contacting progressiveprocess@live.com.au or by clicking here.
Juno: "This is me"
For a long time, Juno has known that the gender she was assigned at birth, wasn’t the right one. She describes her childhood, where she would tell anyone who would listen: “When I grow up, I’m going to be a girl.” But despite knowing that she wasn’t in the body she was meant to be, she didn’t know about transgender people - she had no idea there was a way to express these feelings. “All I wanted was to hang around with girls and I was told that wasn't right, so I never formed good friendships”.
The teenage years are a difficult time for most of us, but puberty for someone who feels their gender isn’t right is even more difficult. Juno started her adolescence struggling with friendships, but eventually found an incredible support network in three girls at sixth form. Juno says, “I realised the power of friendship when they’re the right friends. Up until that point, I’d had quite toxic friendships with people who’d teased me. But now, I was accepted as one of the girls.”
It was these close friends who supported Juno with her gender identity. It was 2013 when Juno first properly started talking to them about how she was feeling. While incredibly supportive, they realised they had no experience of it and so, they encouraged her to speak to a professional. Initially sceptical about counselling, Juno had to try a few counsellors before finding one that fit.
“The first two were lovely, but I felt like they didn’t get it,” she explains. “And I’d say to anybody considering therapy that it’s about the dynamic and the relationship. I finally choose one, and specifically went to her about my gender transition. She quickly realised there were a lot of things that needed talking about - my sense of identity, my anxiety issues, existential confusion with where I’m going... There was a lot to unravel.”
If you resonate with Juno's story and are wanting to unravel any of these issues, know that help is out there. If you’re ready, you can start your therapy journey by simply contacting progressiveprocess@live.com.au or by clicking here.