My whole journey with gender has been a long and confusing one, and looking back, I can see how many different pieces of my life came together to push me towards transition. I was always a bit of a strange girl, and people around me noticed. I remember a coworker once told me she never really saw me as a "girl" because I was bad at details and being neat. I think I have some problems with executive dysfunction, and not being able to meet those expectations of how a woman should act really messed with how I saw myself. When I came out as trans, it was like a relief to a lot of people in my life because it finally explained why I was different. But now, that just makes me angry. Just because my brain works differently doesn't mean I needed to spend years letting doctors poke and prod at me.

I started identifying as trans and began taking testosterone. I was on T for about nine months. Before that, I identified as bisexual and dated men and women equally. But being on T changed my sexuality in a way I never expected. It made me intensely, almost surrealistically, attracted to men. I went from being a Kinsey 4 to a Kinsey 1. Before transition, I thought I'd end up with a woman, so this shift was really counterproductive and something I had to mourn. I'm still mourning it, to be honest. Adjusting to being a straight woman has been hard; it doesn't come naturally to me at all, and I feel like the most awkward straight woman in the world. Men can be really freaked out when I disclose my past; they think I'm a lesbian in denial or something else entirely.

During my time identifying as trans, I became psychologically dependent on binding. It was addictive. Putting on the binder felt like a relief, but taking it off at the end of the day was incredibly distressing. Avoiding the reality of my chest just made the eventual confrontation with it so much worse. I have intense feelings of disgust about my breasts, which I think are more typical of body dysmorphia than gender dysphoria. To cope, I do a lot of bra-less yoga at home. The stretching and exercises, without being constrained, help a lot. Yoga gives me a sense of self-efficacy that decreases those dysmorphic feelings.

Stopping testosterone was rough. I had a severe depressive episode for about six months after quitting, and I was still depressed for another year after that. The hormonal swings definitely made it worse. The whole experience of my trans identity collapsing was like a death. It was painful and scary, and it's the kind of thing other people often don't believe you about. I was a true believer when I was in it, with a whole story about how I'd always been a trans boy. When that belief crumbled, it was traumatic and changed me forever.

Even now, after detransitioning, I still have periods of gender dysphoria. It comes and goes, like a flu or a depressive episode. I've made a commitment to myself that my dysphoria doesn't get to ruin my health or my finances. I've learned to manage it. Getting a professional job with an office door I can close has helped immensely, as has daily yoga and working out. Giving myself permission to stand up to people who bother me is surprisingly effective. I see my life as one long experiment in how to live without being consumed by dysphoria.

I've also had to grapple with the physical effects. I suspect that my time on testosterone wasn't good for my body's inflammatory response. I have a detransitioned friend who has to center her whole life around controlling her inflammation, and I think there's a connection, even if the medical community is dismissive of it. I had laser hair removal on my face and lower body, and I still have to shave my face about once a month. My voice is permanently lower, though my range has broadened over time. Binding didn't do my breasts any favors, but it's damage I have to live with.

My thoughts on gender now are complicated. I think a lot of my struggle was related to the reality of being a woman in a patriarchy. It's scary, unfair, and denigrating. We're not allowed to acknowledge how bad it really is without being called insane or being isolated. Finding all-female, radical feminist spaces was crucial for me. It helped me see that the shame and fear aren't inherent to being alive. I've moved from feeling impotent rage to feeling a potent rage. I've accepted that I don't owe this society anything in terms of how I should be, and that has been incredibly freeing. I concentrate on growing my skills, accruing resources, and doing what I find fun.

Do I have regrets? Yes, I really wish I had never started testosterone. I'm glad I stopped when I did. My gender dysphoria has decreased since I stepped away from the trans scene and stopped putting myself in situations where strangers constantly comment on my body. I've started to see my appearance more pragmatically, as a tool for navigating the world, rather than as the primary way I express myself. It was a rough way to clarify my sexuality, and it was a scary experience overall.

In the end, I've found a good place. I have a boyfriend who is wonderful and brings me flowers, a job I like, and I feel like a hot badass at least three days a week. The first year of detransition was dark and heavy, but I moved towards good things. I learned that my value isn't dependent on a perfect body or fitting into a neat category. It comes from my intelligence, my commitment to truth, and my ability to navigate life's challenges.

Here is a timeline of my journey: