Of course. Here is a summary of my experiences based on my previous comments.

My journey with gender started from a place of deep discomfort, but I see now that I was looking for solutions in the wrong places. I was born female, and as I grew up, I felt a strong sense of unease with my body, especially during puberty. I hated developing breasts and felt like my body was betraying me. I now believe this was a mix of body dysmorphia and a general discomfort with the changes that come with growing up, rather than a true feeling of being male.

I was also struggling with my sexuality. I am attracted to men, but I had a lot of internalised homophobia. I didn't want to be seen as a lesbian or a straight woman; I think I wanted to escape the entire idea of being a woman altogether. I was drawn to the idea of maleness—the physical strength, the different socialisation, the body that was so different from my own. I think I romanticised it as a form of escapism from my own life and my own self.

I started to learn about transition online and became influenced by what I saw. It seemed like a clear path to fixing the unhappiness I felt. I thought that if I could just look like a man, everything else would fall into place. I started taking testosterone. I told myself it was what I needed, but part of me knew I was pumping my body with hormones that weren't meant for it. I knew some changes would be irreversible, and I did it anyway, thinking the trade-off would be worth it.

One of the first big signs that this was a mistake was my hair. I noticed it changing, reacting to the hormones, and I knew that the next step was it starting to fall out. That was a wake-up call. This was my healthy body, and I was actively damaging it. I realized I was trying to solve one problem by creating a bunch of new, permanent ones.

I also had a realisation about what actually attracted me to men. It was their maleness—their flat, hairy chests, their broad shoulders, their physical strength. A female taking testosterone could never truly have that; it’s an imitation. I didn't want to be with a transman because it felt like being with a version of myself, and that wasn't what I was attracted to. This clarified for me that my issues weren't about being a man, but about how I related to men and to myself as a woman.

I stopped the hormones before I did any permanent surgical damage. I know I am lucky in that regard. I never got top surgery or bottom surgery. I see now that those procedures are presented as a solution, but for someone like me, it would have just been moving the problem. I believe that if you have surgery without truly understanding the root of your discomfort, you'll just find a new thing to be unhappy with. You need to talk to a therapist, a good one who isn't just going to affirm everything you say, to really figure out what's going on.

I do have regrets. I regret not protecting my healthy body. I regret not dealing with my internalised homophobia and self-esteem issues directly, instead of trying to become someone else. I don't think I was truly transgender. I think I was a confused young woman who saw transition as an escape from herself and from the pressures of being a homosexual female.

My thoughts on gender now are that it's a very complex thing, but medical transition is a serious, permanent step that should be an absolute last resort after every other issue—like trauma, body dysmorphia, or internalised homophobia—has been thoroughly explored. It's not a casual thing to do. For me, it was the wrong path, and I'm glad I found my way back before causing more irreversible harm.

Here is a timeline of my journey: