This story is from the comments listed below, summarised by AI.
Authenticity Assessment: Not Suspicious
Based on the provided comments, this account appears authentic. There are no red flags suggesting it is a bot or an inauthentic detransitioner/desister.
The user's story is highly detailed, internally consistent, and emotionally nuanced. They describe a specific personal timeline (starting transition at 11, HRT at 17, surgery, then desisting), complex motivations (linking neurodivergence to gender identity), and the ongoing process of coping with surgical and social consequences. The language is natural, varied, and includes personal reflections and advice that read as genuine lived experience, not a script. The passion and perspective align with the expected viewpoints of someone who has undergone this specific, difficult experience.
About me
I was born female and started my social transition at 11, believing it was the answer to never fitting in. I later took testosterone and had surgery, but severe complications from my mastectomy made me question everything. I now see my autism was a huge factor, as I mistook my social alienation for a need to change my body. I've stopped all medical interventions and call it desisting, as I've accepted that my female sex is simply a fact, not a feeling to be fixed. I'm now learning to manage my discomfort like any other difficult emotion and am finally working on self-acceptance.
My detransition story
My whole journey with transition and detransition is something I’ve been piecing together for a long time. I was born female, and from a young age, I never felt like I fit in. I started my social transition when I was 11 years old. It felt like a switch had flipped for me. I began taking hormones when I was 17, and last year, I had a double mastectomy. About six months after that surgery, I stopped everything. I had some really bad complications from the surgery, and that was a big part of what made me start to question everything.
Looking back, I see now how my being autistic was a huge part of this. My neurodivergence and my feelings about my gender were completely linked. I always felt socially alienated, and I became completely obsessed with the idea of transition. For over a decade, I had blinders on. I came to understand that most people see gender the same way they see neurodiversity—there’s an accepted "right" way to be a man or a woman, just like there’s a "right" way to be a normal person. I was never good at that. I either tried way too hard to follow the rules or I completely diverged from them.
For me, identifying as trans felt like the perfect escape. It gave me a clear, step-by-step set of instructions on how to finally fit in. I was no longer just an awkward, hairy, loud, butch woman. My non-conformity was suddenly celebrated instead of looked down on. We neurodivergent people love labels because they make a confusing world easier to understand. So instead of just learning to accept myself as an unconventional woman, "change your behavior" quickly turned into "change your body" for me.
A lot of my feelings started during puberty. I really hated my breasts and the changes my body was going through. I felt miserable overall. I spent a lot of time online, isolated, and I saw all these happy FTM people and wished desperately that could be me. I was homeschooled and became obsessed with the internet, which definitely influenced me.
I did go through with top surgery, but the complications were severe. Right before I realized I needed to stop, I remember feeling super uncertain about whether I could ever be okay with being female. I had to ask myself how I could ever reconnect with that little girl I felt I had punished, the one whose body I thought was "wrong."
I don’t really use the word "detransition" for myself. To me, that implies I changed something back, but I can't undo my mastectomy. I call it "desisting" because I desisted from an ideology. The only thing I really changed was my perspective. I accepted that my sex is female, and that’s it. It’s not a feeling or a list of characteristics to meet; it’s just a fact about my body, like my height or my shoe size. I didn’t change my name back or my style of dressing. I just stopped trying to control how people see me. I don’t specify pronouns anymore because how someone perceives me has nothing to do with who I actually am.
I don’t have any serious regrets, but I do live with the permanent changes from my surgery. I am likely infertile now, which is a consequence I have to accept. My thoughts on gender now are that it’s not the most important thing about a person. I treat feelings of discomfort, what I used to call dysphoria, like I treat my anxiety or depression. I take a step back and ask myself why I’m feeling that way instead of letting the feeling control me.
I benefited a lot from therapy that wasn’t just about affirming my trans identity. It helped me learn to sit with my emotions and question them. My self-esteem was very low for a long time, and I now see that my transition was partly a result of that and my need to escape from myself.
Here is a timeline of my journey:
| Age | Event |
|---|---|
| 11 | Began social transition |
| 17 | Started hormone therapy (Testosterone) |
| 22 | Underwent double mastectomy (top surgery) |
| 22 | Stopped hormones and began to desist, due to surgical complications and a shift in perspective |
| 23 | Now, almost a year into desisting, living as a female and working on self-acceptance |
Top Comments by /u/vokacha:
I promise you, no matter how you feel right now, you're going to be just fine 🤍
All my friends knew me as trans from 7th grade through sophomore year of college. They watched me start T and get top surgery. My family even went through several waves of denial and fear before finally coming around... which I never thought would happen.
Still, in my almost year of detransition — which has mostly consisted of me owning up to my sex and sharing bits and pieces of my story — no one important has been phased, apart from a handful of trans people who silently unfollowed me on social media.
Sure, maybe there's an element of curiosity that some discuss behind my back... but is that really the worst thing ever? No one worth being around will treat you with anything short of kindness and respect. And, to be honest, discussion is okay. Let them figure it out for themselves, then apply that understanding to the bigger, societal picture.
It's all in how you frame it. You set the tone — so try to see desisting as empowering, not some silly little mistake. You don't have to change a single thing about yourself or your expression so long as it comes from the heart!
The only thing I changed was I accepted my sex as female. That's it. My name stayed the same, I kept dressing how I wanted to. I don't even specify pronouns anymore, because I just don't care to control how people view / talk about me.
TLDR - You got this! Awkwardness is just another part of life. You can't grow whilst staying comfortable, and you can't find comfort if you don't grow.
A lot of it is mindset. There's really nothing embarrassing about self-exploration! Even if you ARE embarrassed, remember that everyone does something embarrassing at some point. We're all human, after all.
Another thing... when you feel a negative emotion, like embarrassment, take a second to breathe and ask yourself why you feel that way.
Here's an affirmation I try to live by: "Control what you can and release what you can't."
You can't control how other people see you, and sometimes feelings just need to be felt, not acted upon. So take a deeeeeep breath, then let it out as softly and slowly as you can — I'm talking 15+ seconds.
Like water off a duck's back, release your embarrassment. If you can't stop thinking about the negative feelings after that, here's a strategy my therapist taught me:
- Look in front of you. What's the most interesting color you see?
- What is something you positively associate with that color? Does it have a smell? A taste? Is there a specific memory that comes to mind?
The goal is to redirect your thoughts away from the rumination by engaging you in your senses.
Please give yourself a chance to regulate your emotions and take this in stride. Time is healing, so try to focus on developing other parts of yourself right now, like a hobby 🤍
To me, detrans implies that I changed something about myself — when, in reality, it was just my perspective that changed.
I therefore call myself "desisted" because I desisted from an ideology. Stopping T, etc. came before, and I can't really undo my mastectomy lol
I felt a lot like a switch flipped for me, too.
I began social transition at 11, started HRT at 17, and underwent a double mastectomy last year. I desisted about a half a year later, following some pretty gnarly complications.
I just woke up, so my brain isn't all in one place, but feel free to PM with any questions — or if you'd like a more private ear.
You're absolutely not alone in how you feel. So much of what you describe resonates with me — feeling okay with your butchness but miserable overall, seeing happy FTMs online and wishing that was you, the homeschooling, the internet obsession, the isolation from community and self. It's like looking in a mirror.
As for me, I did go through with top — but faced massive post-op complications. And just before I peaked, I, too, remember feeling super uncertain about whether I'd ever actually be okay with being female.
How could I ever reconnect with that little girl I punished? With that little girl whose body was "wrong" and whose most formative years had been swept under the rug?
It's honestly a lot to process.
I think the best place to start, though, is with acceptance.
You don't have to change a single thing about yourself to "detransition" — in fact, I actually call myself "desisted" because I didn't do much other than desist from the idea that my sex automatically tells you who I am. It's not any more important than my height or my weight or my skin color or my shoe size. It's not a feeling, either, or some list of characteristics I can meet or fail to meet.
Truth be told, you don't even have to tell anybody about this shift if you don't want to, because how someone treats you shouldn't be based on how you identify, or what gender/sex you say you are. You can just stop caring — and that's okay.
(Side-note: If pronouns are a worry, I get that. For me, I just let people make whatever assumptions they want to, because how someone perceives me or talks about me has zero to do with who I actually am. That's not something I need to or have to or even want to control, y'know?)
I'm now almost a year out from this realization, and while I do have temporary moments of discomfort, I no longer second guess myself every single day. In a way, I treat dysphoria a lot like I do depression, or anxiety, or any other negative emotion — by taking a step back and asking myself why I'm feeling that emotion, instead of letting that emotion rule me.
So, if this helped you, or if you have any other questions, please don't hesitate to reach out. It's a lot easier for me to get my thoughts out conversationally, and I'm always happy to lend an ear or shoulder.
To answer OP:
My neurodivergence and gender identity are intrinsically linked. From feelings of social alienation to obsession over transition, I had blinders on for over a decade — until I came to understand that most people view sex/gender through the same lens as neurodiversity.
In other words, there's an accepted "right" way to be male/female just as there's an accepted "right" way to be human.
The thing is, is that I (along with most other ND people) have never been good at doing what's "right" — we either follow "rightness" to a stilted T, or we diverge from it to the point of dehumanization.
Transness therefore gives many of us the perfect escape from this limbo, a set of step-by-step instructions for how to fit in. In transition, I was no longer an awkward, hairy, loud, butch woman — in fact, my non-conformity was revered!
In a way, neurodivergent people tend to exist outside of labels... yet we love labels, because it makes an already-confusing world so much easier to comprehend.
So instead of being unconventionally "me" and accepting myself as-is, "change your behavior" quickly became "change your body" — and the reality of growing up gender non-conforming in a gender-conforming world came to parallel the reality of growing up neurodivergent in a neurotypical one.