My whole journey with transition started when I was really young, around 12 or 13. I was a girl who felt incredibly uncomfortable with my body when puberty began. I hated developing breasts; it felt like my body was betraying me. I spent a lot of time online, and the algorithms kept showing me more and more content about being trans. It felt like a community that finally understood my discomfort. I started to believe that all my problems—my depression, my anxiety, my low self-esteem—were because I was born in the wrong body and that I was actually a boy.

I came out as trans at 14 and started socially transitioning. I cut my hair, bought a binder, and insisted everyone use a new name and he/him pronouns. By the time I was 16, I was convinced I needed testosterone to truly be myself. I started taking hormones, and for a little while, I felt a sense of relief. My voice dropped, and I grew some facial hair, and I thought this was the solution.

But the underlying issues never went away. My depression and anxiety were still there, just masked by the excitement of change. I realize now that a lot of my desire to transition was a form of escapism. I thought I could become a completely different person and leave all my problems behind. I also struggled with internalized homophobia; I think part of me was uncomfortable with the idea of being a lesbian and saw becoming a man as a way out of that.

I started to notice a pattern online, especially in ftm spaces. There were so many people like me, and so many of them also seemed to have deep-seated issues that weren't really about gender. I saw a lot of fetish content where ftms talked about wanting to be "fucked like the women they are." It was confusing and made me question everything. Why did so many of us, who said we wanted to be men, have this deep desire to still be seen as women in intimate settings? It felt like a massive contradiction and it really started to unsettle me.

By the time I was 18, the initial high had worn off completely. I was still deeply unhappy. I began to understand that my discomfort with puberty wasn't necessarily a sign of being trans, but a more general body dysmorphia that was tangled up with my low self-esteem. I had been influenced so heavily by online communities and friends that it was hard to see where their experiences ended and mine began.

I made the decision to stop testosterone when I was 19. Detransitioning has been hard. I have regrets about the permanent changes, like my voice and the facial hair. I worry about my long-term health and whether I’ve made myself infertile. I’m trying to accept my body as it is now, which is a difficult process. I don't think gender is as simple as I was led to believe. For me, it was never about having a male soul in a female body; it was about trying to escape from myself and my problems.

Looking back, I think what I needed wasn't transition, but therapy that addressed my root issues—my trauma, my depression, and my self-hatred. I was a vulnerable young girl who found what felt like an answer online, and I ran with it without fully understanding the consequences.