When you’re trans and haven’t transitioned yet, much of your time is spent trying to shield that fact.

I felt the need to hide my testosterone vials. I went home two to three times throughout the day, every day; I’d always find a way my clothes sat too “effeminately” on my body, and in turn, thought it was necessary to change yet again. I bound my chest anytime I was outside for seven years with the exception of two occasions. If my chest hurt too much to be flattened to my liking, I’d stay in, and if anyone was close to me in public, I’d hold my breath and hope they hadn’t noticed me. I lived my life like I was something to hide.

I say none of this to raise concern or elicit pity but rather understanding. Everyone who hasn’t undergone transition believes it will save you. It won’t. It can awaken you, like cold water or the snap of thick fingers. But it won’t save you.

It will set you closer to the baseline others live by.

I visited my pharmacy on four separate occasions before picking up my first hormone prescription. I spent that week calling my pharmacy, my clinic, and my health insurance interchangeably, and with each visit to the pharmacy, the same people behind the counter would watch me leave empty-handed and increasingly discouraged each time I came. I couldn't help but think that I wanted to transition for the wrong reasons if I wanted it that badly. 

I wasn’t wrong to want it. I delayed my transition for years as if it was optional or too selfish a decision, and unfortunately, many other trans people are discouraged towards transitioning. I can say now that it feels like finally being a part of the world.