My whole journey with transition and detransition has been long, confusing, and really painful. I started when I was very young, and I’m now dealing with the permanent consequences of decisions I made as a teenager.

It all began with a deep discomfort with my body. I hated how I looked. I felt fat, ugly, and disgusting. I couldn't figure out if I was too feminine or too masculine; I just knew I hated it. My chest was a huge source of that pain. I had very large breasts, a DDD cup, and they caused me a lot of physical back problems. I bound my chest constantly and rarely took breaks, which just made the pain worse. I think a lot of this came from having incredibly low self-esteem and depression. I just wanted relief from the constant feeling of wrongness.

I started medically transitioning right around my 15th birthday. I began taking testosterone. I was on it for almost five years. My voice dropped, my shoulders got broader, and I grew facial hair. Not long after, when I was 16, I got top surgery. I had a double incision mastectomy to remove my breasts. At the time, I felt like I couldn't pass as male without it and I was desperate to stop binding. Right after the surgery, I was glad my back didn't hurt anymore, but I also remember looking in the mirror and immediately feeling ugly. I didn't look like myself.

Even with all of that—years on testosterone and a flat chest—I still got misgendered. It showed me that boobs or not, people are going to call you what they want. I never fully embraced being a man. I usually identified as nonbinary or transmasc. I just let people refer to me however they wanted.

A big turning point for me was when I was sent to an all-men's rehab facility for a dual diagnosis treatment for my mental health and addiction issues. Being in that environment, surrounded only by men, made me start questioning everything. I didn't feel like I fit in there at all. I also had to stop my testosterone injections while I was there because the method was too similar to how some people shoot up drugs, and it could have been triggering for others. That break from hormones started a shift in my thinking.

I began to slowly dress more femininely, almost without realizing I was doing it. It gave me more confidence. I stopped taking my testosterone and eventually realized I might have made a huge mistake. I started to mourn the girl I was before any of this. I look at old pictures of her and I can’t even see myself in her anymore. She was beautiful, and I grieve for her every day. I wish so badly that I hadn’t been so quick to make those life-altering decisions. I thought I was going to die without transitioning; I just wanted relief from the pain.

Now, I identify as a detransitioned female. I don’t really identify as male or female, but if I have to pick a box, I’m a woman. I’ve been off hormones for a few years now. My voice is permanently deeper; it’s a feminine voice but deep, like a woman who smoked for years. I’d kill to have my old voice back. I still have people asking me “what I am,” which is exhausting. Dating is really hard because if someone finds out about my past or sees a facial hair, they often freak out and reject me without even asking questions.

My biggest regret is my top surgery. I feel horrible about having gotten rid of my breasts as a minor. My family shouldn’t have let me make such a permanent decision at 16. While it solved my back pain, it destroyed my self-esteem. I became a suicidal hermit because I can’t find clothes that make me feel nice. It complicated my relationship with my entire body, making it worse than it was before. I’m now looking into breast reconstruction with implants for next summer, hopefully when I’m 22. Some tissue was left, so I’m barely an A cup now. It’s a long process trying to find a surgeon who will help; the one who did my mastectomy won't even return my calls.

I’m also dealing with the hormonal aftermath. My ovaries started working again about a year after stopping testosterone, but my cycle is still messed up. I jumped on birth control which made my periods really painful and irregular when I did get them. The female reproductive system is a powerful and complicated thing.

I don’t know if my story has a clear lesson for others. I believe that for a select few people, transition is the right thing and makes them happier. But for me, it wasn't. It came from a place of deep mental anguish, and I wasn't in a good place to make those choices. I’m now focusing on my mental and physical health, trying to learn to love my body as it is, even with all the scars and changes.