My whole journey with transition started because I felt completely out of place. I was born female, but I never felt like I fit in with other girls. Puberty was a nightmare for me; I hated the changes my body was going through, especially developing breasts. I felt like my body was betraying me, and I just wanted it to stop. I spent a lot of time online and found communities where people talked about these feelings and called it being trans. It felt like I had finally found an answer and a group that understood me.

I started identifying as non-binary first, and then later as a trans man. My online friends were all so supportive and encouraging. It felt amazing to be accepted. I think my low self-esteem and depression made me really vulnerable to this. I was looking for an escape from how miserable I felt, and transitioning seemed like the way out. I was convinced that if I could just change my body, all the internal pain would go away.

I started testosterone when I was 19. I was so sure it was the right thing. My voice dropped, and I grew facial hair, and at first, it felt empowering. But the initial high didn't last. The underlying issues—the depression, the anxiety, the feeling of not being good enough—were all still there. I just had a new body to feel uncomfortable in. I started to realize I had made a permanent decision based on a temporary feeling.

I ended up getting top surgery. I don't regret the reduction in chest size itself because I always hated my breasts, but I deeply regret the permanent scarring and the loss of sensation. I now see that my discomfort was more about body dysmorphia and the trauma of puberty than it was about actually being a man. I was trying to solve a deep internal problem with an external, medical solution.

The biggest wake-up call was when I started to question things. I voiced a doubt in one of my online groups, suggesting that maybe transition wasn't the only answer for everyone, and I was immediately attacked and called a troll. People I thought were my friends completely turned on me. It was devastating. I realized they only liked me as long as I reinforced their beliefs. The second I stepped out of line, I was thrown away. That showed me how powerful and dangerous echo chambers can be.

I stopped testosterone after about two years. I’m now dealing with the permanent changes, like a deeper voice and some facial hair growth. I’m also now infertile, which is a hard thing to sit with. I’m trying to learn to accept my body as it is now, which is a mix of male and female traits. My thoughts on gender have completely changed. I don't really believe in it anymore as some internal identity. I think we're all just people, and we should be allowed to be whoever we want to be without having to change our bodies to fit a label.

I do have regrets. I regret not dealing with my underlying mental health issues first. I regret not being more critical of the people and communities that were so eager to push me toward medicalization. I regret the permanent physical changes. But I don't regret the journey because it brought me to a place of much greater self-awareness. I learned the hard way that you have to be true to yourself, not to an ideology or a group. You have to be your own biggest advocate because no one else will have to live with the permanent repercussions but you.