This story is from the comments listed below, summarised by AI.
Authenticity Assessment: Not Suspicious
Based on the provided comments, this account appears to be authentic. There are no serious red flags suggesting it is a bot or a bad-faith actor.
The user provides a highly detailed, nuanced, and emotionally complex account of their long-term medical detransition, including specific timelines, health complications (PCOS, endometriosis, surgery sepsis), and the psychological process of regret and acceptance. The narrative is consistent across many comments over a long period and reflects the deep, personal trauma and passion common in this community. The mention of a personal blog and music album further supports a real, multifaceted person behind the account.
About me
I started identifying as trans at 12, heavily influenced by online friends who told me I had to transition to survive. I was a traumatized teenager who saw becoming a man as an escape, and I was on testosterone for five years and had top surgery. My underlying pain never went away, and I realized I was chasing something impossible. I stopped hormones and now live as a woman again, though I deal with the permanent changes and chronic pain from my surgery. Through therapy, I've addressed my trauma and learned that my true self was here all along, even though I grieve what I lost.
My detransition story
My whole journey with transition and detransition is complicated and rooted in a lot of pain. I started identifying as trans around 12 years old. I was deeply influenced by the people I met online, who told me that if I didn't transition, I would eventually kill myself. I was a teenager dealing with trauma from childhood sexual abuse, and I didn't have the tools to process any of it. Becoming a man felt like a form of self-preservation; it was a way to escape my body and my past.
I spent years, from 12 to 17, going from doctor to doctor, trying to get on hormones. I was told to lie and threaten suicide to get what I wanted. I built my entire life and identity around being trans, and most of my friends were trans too. It gave me a sense of community and meaning that I desperately needed at the time. When I was finally prescribed testosterone at 17, I was happy for a while. I was on T for almost five years and I had top surgery.
But my underlying depression never went away. I was on a carousel of different SSRIs and benzos that would stop working, and I was living a self-destructive life of hypersexuality and substance abuse, which I now understand was me dealing with my unresolved trauma. I was committing to the bit, living a life that felt like it belonged to someone else. A deep, nagging feeling started to grow: no matter how much surgery I had or how long I was on hormones, I would never actually be a man. I would never have a Y chromosome, I would never have experienced a male childhood. I was chasing something completely impossible, an elusive dragon.
I spent about two years with these doubts eating me alive. I was terrified that it was too late to go back and that I had ruined my body forever. I felt guilty for not figuring it out sooner. Finally, I started to experiment. I changed my style of clothing to what I really wanted to wear. I spent a couple of months in a new city where no one knew me and I presented as female again. It felt awkward at first, but then it started to feel right, like everything was finally clicking into place in my head.
Stopping testosterone was rough. I had mood swings, brain fog, and felt very emotional for the first few months. My period came back about five months after my last shot, and they've gotten progressively more painful; I've since been diagnosed with endometriosis and likely PCOS. My voice is permanently changed, which is hard for me as a singer. The body hair that grew in still grows, though it might be a bit slower. I have to shave and pluck every day, and I spent a lot of money on painful laser hair removal for my face.
My biggest regret, by far, is my top surgery. The surgery itself was extremely invasive and I had severe complications that left me hours from death from sepsis. My chest is now deformed, I have no sensation in my nipples, and I live with chronic pain from it every day. Clothes don't fit right and I feel misshapen. I thought I hated my breasts, but I would do anything to have my body back. I grieve the fact that I will never be able to breastfeed.
I don't really identify as cis or trans anymore. My experience is too complicated for a simple label. My feelings of dysphoria are still there, but I've learned to manage them. Through a lot of therapy, I've addressed the root cause of my dysphoria—my childhood trauma. I realized that my desire to become a man was mixed up with my attraction to men and a reaction to being made to feel like an outcast among women. I’ve also gone to an addiction clinic to deal with my need for escapism, which medical transition was just one part of.
I’ve found my own style within womanhood, incorporating elements that feel masculine, and that has helped soothe my dysphoria a lot. I’ve learned that confidence is everything. I date and have found that most men don’t care about my flat chest; a good partner likes you for you, not in spite of your body. My life is much better now. My physical health has improved, my self-confidence is higher, and I've regained a social and love life. I still have bad days where I feel sad about what I’ve lost, but I’ve learned to live with it. The grief doesn't get smaller, but you grow around it.
I don't blame my parents; they only wanted my happiness. I blame the doctors who approved a traumatized teenager for irreversible treatments and the surgeon who botched my operation. I have serious medical trauma from the entire experience. My warning to anyone, especially young people, is that permanent means forever. You are not the same person at 13, 15, 17, or 21. Making irreversible decisions during that time is incredibly dangerous. I would strongly advise anyone questioning to just wait, get off social media, and focus on therapy to deal with the underlying issues.
| Age | Event |
|---|---|
| 12 | Started identifying as trans, heavily influenced by online communities. |
| 12-17 | Spent years seeking medical transition, told by online peers to lie to doctors. |
| 17 | Was finally prescribed testosterone. |
| ~21 | Had top surgery. Suffered severe complications and nearly died from sepsis. |
| ~22 | First seeds of doubt about transition began. Felt I was chasing an impossible goal. |
| ~24 | Officially stopped testosterone after nearly 5 years of use. Began social detransition. |
| 26 (Now) | Have been living as a detransitioned female for over 2 years. |
Top Comments by /u/isteponmushrooms:
I got it around the same age a few years ago too. Often I echo everything you say here but this was the worst the first 2-3 years after it, I could've hurt myself over how devastated I was. It's a lot like grief, it doesn't start weighing any less or taking up less space but you grow around it. I could continue to be sad, or start living. Now I don't think about it most days. I don't like seeing it, but it is what it is. Reconstruction is an option and I will probably go that way eventually. In the meantime, I can't lie to you and say there's anything magical to help but time does. So does getting really into a hobby or job, I did so until I didn't have the space in my head to start spiraling about my grief. When you start feeling like this, also let yourself feel like this. Really if you look up anything about grief, you'll see you do have to get it out of your system first. Keep on going.
This is particularly sad and worrying given the context and your situation. I don't like using the term "cult" as I feel it's disrespectful towards survivors of cult abuse, but there are cultish tendencies to the movement I sometimes see now that I stopped engaging with it 2 1/2 years ago. This is typically very unhealthy as a response, fosters echo chambers, suppresses individual thinking... The very reasons I was scared to say I didn't think transition was right for me anymore, and took 2+ years to gather up the courage to come out again. I'm worried because there are much younger people on reddit - I know I came here a lot as a young teenager when I wondered if transitioning was gonna be the only thing to possibly save me and was very easily influenced.
There is no convincing certain people. I was in the same mindset as this person for 8+ years, now I suffer the lifelong, daily consequences; every day is a reminder there's no going back and this is my body now. And when I do express my pain, these same types who go on and on about bodily autonomy make fun of me or say it was my choice, I was an adult (spoiler: I wasn't), I deserve how I feel.
I just don't think they're thinking beyond echo chambers nor dare to touch any idea that makes them uncomfortable, in case they'd find out why it does.
It's been 4 and a half years. Some days are worse than others, but I've learnt to grieve and accept my flat chest. Having a partner that absolutely loves my body and that treats my chest like any other woman's helps a lot, but even on my own I had to learn to cope. I feel sometimes misshapen and mutilated, but this isn't a way of speaking I'd ever use with a friend- why speak to myself like that? I'll just copy and paste some of what I wrote about my surgery experience before on this account;
"It was extremely invasive, complications had me hours from death. 3+ years later it's the main reason my body feels so grotesque to me- clothes look awkward and are difficult to fit. If you're not super thin (= making a flat chest pretty much unnoticeable), it's near impossible to wear anything that opens up on the chest. I still don't have sensation in my nipples. They look bad, flat and it was supposed to be one of the top private surgeons in this country. To be completely honest, in terms of comfort, my chest causes me trouble and pain every day. I hated wearing bras too, I thought I hated my bigger breasts, but I'd do anything to have my body back.
Edit- I saw someone mention chronic pain. My chronic back pain worsened heavily following my recovery from this surgery. Specialists have suggested my back, suffering from slight scoliosis, has lost the balance that kept most of the pain away; now it's another of my big physical issues."
I also struggled a lot this year coming to terms with the fact I'll never be able to breastfeed. Of course compared to almost 5 years ago I've changed my mind and I'm considering kids in my future. Overall, most days I manage to ignore it and feel indifferent, but the rest of the days I'm sad. I still don't know how to feel about reconstruction, and breast forms are a little awkward. Part of me likes keeping my chest like this, because I'm still very much a woman. I kinda like showing other detrans women, or any other women who'd have lost their breasts, that they can still completely be women, and beautiful, awesome ones at that.
Spent 6+ hours in the ER because of unexplained godawful uterine cramping eventually due to the atrophy, sent home with acetaminophen. Now I know I have PCOS and endometriosis- I don't know how fertile I am but I know I'm in excruciating pain every month that I wasn't in before. Lost how thick and shiny my hair was. Worst acne in my life- extremely insecure while it was going on. So much body hair "reversing" it also means renouncing your natural hair, as it'll keep growing in male patterns and thickness. Either I shave and pluck my stomach, legs, arms and feet every day, either they grow dark, extremely noticeable and thick hair everyone stares at. And facial hair laser removal was so painful even on a high dose of codeine that I was writhing on the table. (For $500 over a year.) My voice is never coming back. I'm a singer and everything makes me feel insecure. I stick out when singing along with friends. I get looks. People ask what happened or say I should stop smoking. People constantly think I'm a trans woman. More looks. Constantly feeling alienated from other women. Feeling deformed and stupid. Being told everywhere it was your fault and you did this to yourself without any regard for your circumstances; when you stop, most people drop you and you're left to fend for yourself at your most vulnerable and confused. The nail in the coffin was how even with a full beard, I knew all those changes would never be enough because it wouldn't give me a Y chromosome, and that realization I was chasing the dragon was extremely painful and lonely.
No. It was extremely invasive, complications had me hours from death. 3+ years later it's the main reason my body feels so grotesque to me- clothes look awkward and are difficult to fit. If you're not super thin (= making a flat chest pretty much unnoticeable), it's near impossible to wear anything that opens up on the chest. I still don't have sensation in my nipples. They look bad, flat and it was supposed to be one of the top private surgeons in this country. To be completely honest, in terms of comfort, my chest causes me trouble and pain every day. I hated wearing bras too, I thought I hated my bigger breasts, but I'd do anything to have my body back.
I worry less about a lot of things. My physical health is much better and my self-confidence is much, much higher. I've regained a social and love life. I still feel dysphoric, but I don't really feel it hinders my mood, mental health or functioning, it just is a side of me I accept as the masculine part of the woman I am. I feel that now my life was able to find direction because I was able to become a full-fledged person without clinging to one aspect of my personality.
If it is for sexual reasons, think about how you are going to be changing every single aspect of your life and every interaction you have. The insane amount of money, time and energy you'll be putting into chasing the elusive dragon. If it all still seems worth the effort for the orgasm, you might have a sex/porn addiction and need to see a therapist.
My mother was and still is the most understanding, present, hardworking, wonderful and loving person I know. Nothing was afoot when I was little. My father, though emotionally absent, was here physically and doing the minimum. I don't think parents are the problem for everyone. If anything, mine wanted my happiness so much they didn't know if affirming me was going to be right or not, and I don't blame them. I'd say SA and other adverse childhood experiences play a bigger role, not necessarily parents.
That statistic was from a very flawed and skewed study many like to repeat without actually listening to us; the responses IIRC were from a small sample in one clinic who followed through after detransitioning and pretty much all still identified as trans in some way, when most if not all of us otherwise are never contacted again or ghost our doctors.
I don't identify as cis or trans because I find my experience to be too complicated to label in one box or in the other. I detransitioned because I realized the reasons behind it could be dealt with as a woman. At that point in my transition, I was stealth enough not to have to face transphobia anymore and I never had any issues with healthcare.