My whole journey with transition started from a place of deep unhappiness and confusion. I felt completely lost and uncomfortable in my own skin, especially when I started going through puberty. I hated the changes happening to my body; developing breasts was incredibly distressing for me. I didn't feel like other girls and I desperately wanted to escape my own body and my life. I now realize a lot of this was tied to a low self-esteem and depression that I didn't know how to handle.

Looking back, I can see I was heavily influenced by what I saw online. I found communities that offered an explanation for my discomfort: that I was born in the wrong body and was actually a man. It felt like an answer, a way to fix everything that was wrong. I latched onto that identity and started socially transitioning. It felt good at first, like I had finally found a solution. I started asking people to use a new name and male pronouns. Eventually, I pursued medical transition. I took testosterone for several years and had top surgery to remove my breasts.

For a while, I thought this was the right path. I was trying so hard to fit in and be a man, to live up to that role. But the underlying problems—the depression, the anxiety, the feeling of not being good enough—never really went away. I was just masking them with a new identity.

The biggest turning point was having my daughter. Becoming a parent changed everything. I looked at her and realized the enormity of the path I was on. I was so focused on myself and my own identity crisis that I wasn't considering how my constant changing would affect her. She knows me as her daddy. The thought of confusing her, of changing again and not knowing what she should call me, filled me with a new kind of dread. It forced me to look at my choices from outside of myself.

I started to realize that my reasons for transitioning weren't what I thought they were. It wasn't some innate gender identity; it was a way to cope with trauma, discomfort with puberty, and deep-seated issues I had never properly addressed. I feel like it should have been obvious to me and to everyone else why I was really doing this, but no one questioned it. I was just affirmed at every step.

I decided to detransition. I stopped taking testosterone. It’s been a difficult and tiring process, both emotionally and physically. My body is changing back and it's hard to face that. I have a lot of regrets about the permanent changes, like my surgery and my voice being permanently deeper. I worry about being infertile. I regret not dealing with my root problems first instead of changing my body.

I don't really know what I think about gender now. I think a lot of it is pushed by an ideology that doesn't make sense in the real world. I just know that for me, it was an escape that ended up causing more problems than it solved. I'm trying to just be myself now, without any labels. I'm focusing on being a parent, working my part-time job, and going to college online. My brother has been a huge help. It's still hard, but I'm in a much better situation now than I was when I was transitioning. I'm finally dealing with my real issues, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm moving toward who I'm actually supposed to be.