Eventually, once I got myself away from some of my old life and my old hometown, it was rather easy and a no-brainer to start HRT. DIY, obviously. Medical gatekeeping is insane here. I’m certainly not a young risky confused person to them, I’m old and decrepit but having 25 years of mental health struggles on record didn’t help my chances. They won’t be diagnosing me for a while, maybe they never do.
DIY HRT. The best thing I’ve ever done. It has changed me so much. Things are clear now. But they are painful as well. I kinda backed myself into a corner, experimenting with honmoding lately and so on. I don’t pass. At all. Not even at a glance but now with spring coming, it gets harder and harder to manmode either and I’m also correcting my legal name and gender market soon, because the gender clinic seems to kinda demand that and this double life is exhausting.
Social transition is NOT a no-brainer. It’s a horrifying prospect of subjecting myself to insane amounts of discrimination, ridicule and even threats. So HOW DO MY FRIENDS DO IT? I mean, I hang out with visible trannies so I’m getting found out by association too and my manmode is androgynous at best anyway because full manmoding makes me incredibly dysphoric.
But they just do it. Easily. They talk about how relieved they are. They’re actually happier now. Yet I suffer. Why do I have to suffer like this when it’s so easy for them?
And tomorrow I’m going to this trans/queer event and I can’t manmode. Because I’m seeing him. I can’t manmode in front of him, I won’t allow myself to do it. He’d never see me the same way again. Yet because it takes a considerable effort to travel to the other side of the city, I’ll have to subject myself to the eyes of fucking cissoids the entire way.