Depression and taking testosterone

Posted: December 8, 2014 | Author: | Filed under: Testosterone | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

A reader asked me,

I have been researching going on T and got approved for top surgery this past summer. I too struggle with depression and am on medication for it. I have been trying to find information on it but, were you on antidepressants when you started T and if so, did it affect how the T was processed? I am curious if the T counteracts negatively in any way with depression meds. Thank you for your posts and i look forward to hearing from you!

And since I don’t have any direct experience with this, I thought I’d post here and see if others might have some helpful thoughts / advice.

I was on antidepressants for around 6 years, from 2000-2006.  I didn’t start testosterone till 2013, so I’m very far from there having been any overlap.  I haven’t heard of someone having an adverse reaction to being on both at the same time, or there being any issue with how the T is being processed by the body.  Everything is an adjustment though, and T is a potent hormone to throw into the mix.

For me, T has acted as a pretty effective anti-anxiety substance and antidepressant.  I would recommend it to anyone who is depressed or anxious (That’s a joke.  Kinda, haha.)

I don’t know whether I would ever take a synthesized antidepressant medication again.  I’ve been on quite a few, and they were all either not really doing much of anything, or they were flattening me out into a walking zombie.  They definitely do work wonders for some people though.  Testosterone has been much more effective, for me, and I don’t just mean in terms of addressing body dysphoria.  I mean that it has lifted me into a new level of living, basically.  I wanna say that it’s been taking testosterone + being in therapy simultaneously that’s gotten me here (a powerful combination.)

I definitely am prone to low moods still.  Just this past week / weekend is a very clear, recent example.  I wasn’t sleeping well, my appetite was poor, I was obsessing about things I can’t change, I had little motivation for anything beyond basic functioning level.  But something is very different about these dips than where I used to be at:  I know they are not going to last.  I know I’ll be naturally coming out of it at any point, and once I do, I don’t need to live in constant fear of the next time I start to feel low.  Because, that’s all it is – feeling low.  It’s no longer body + soul crushing depression, which I’ve been all too familiar with for most of my teenaged years and young adulthood…

Has anyone been on antidepressants when they started testosterone?  Did you notice anything about how the two substances might have possibly interacted with each other?  What has been your experience with antidepressants?

That specific trauma is still there

Posted: November 13, 2014 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Around this time (middle of the night), fifteen years ago, I started a game changing series of events by getting my mom to bring me to the hospital, from which I was admitted (voluntarily) to an adolescent psychiatric unit.  Once I was actually there, I didn’t want to be there anymore, but a lot of things were changing, and I ended up having to stay for 19 days.  I left with a misdiagnosis of bipolar disorder and prescriptions for Depakote (mood stabilizer), Risperdol (antipsychotic), and Wellbutrin (antidepressant).  The medications changed a lot over the years…  I’m happy to report I’ve been med-free for about 9 years at this point.

Last year, I wrote about how I came to finally acquire my medical records from my hospital stay, and how I started to process things differently with the help of my therapist:
Continuing to work through a specific trauma

This year, I finally brought this massive document in to therapy with me, despite the fact that I was pretty unsure, er maybe more like totally ambivalent, about what I wanted to get out of talking about it (yet again) exactly.

My therapist started reading through the pages out loud, and simultaneously made comments and processed it in her own way.  At first this felt tedious (the thing is 210 pages long!)  But I also felt intrigued.  It was much more helpful for her to tell me about the content than for me to try to go through it myself (which I hadn’t done since first receiving it, last year).  I also started to feel yucky and shut-downy.  I finally verbalized, “Let’s take a break.”  I was worried this therapy session was really going to have a negative lasting impact on me, but, in fact, I felt fine afterward.  Maybe I’m more resilient these days than I think.

I used to always think that if I do this one thing, or if I find out these missing pieces, or if I reflect back in a different way, the pain of that experience will be lifted.  If I just keep grinding into it and picking away at it, I’ll one day be free.  Now I know that this can’t really happen.  And I can accept that it was a shitty thing that probably didn’t actually need to happen.  It was traumatic.  It was so long ago.  I can look at it with a completely different perspective by now, but not because of anything I did – that perspective shift happened naturally, over time and with personal growth.

There is so much I could write about.  But I actually really only want to write about one thing right now, as it relates to my hospital experience:  while I was there, I wore this one particular hoodie constantly.  And once I was released, I never wore it again.  But there seems to be no way I can get rid of it.  I brought the hoodie in to therapy, along with the document, and told her all about it.  When the document felt too overwhelming to keep delving into, I told her she should just hold onto it and go through it on her own time.  She asked if she could hold on to the hoodie too.  I said, “yeah sure.”

Los-Angeles-Rams-return-to-Los-Angeles-FOOTBALLPHDS

My hoodie sported this sports logo.

The reason I loved the hoodie so much was because the LA Rams were not a team.  (I just looked it up, and they were a team from 1946-1994).  I worked at a thrift store and picked up this gem at some point.  I liked the incongruousness of it.  I do not like football.

Hey Halloween! (how costumes fit into our lives)

Posted: October 29, 2014 | Author: | Filed under: Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Happy almost Halloween!  I thought I’d celebrate by digging deep into my writing archives to see if I could find something festive.  It may not be all that festive, but it does seem apt – I found something I wrote 12 years ago, on Halloween day, that touches on gender identity, costumes, and anxiety.

A little back story for what is to follow:  I was a Junior in college, and I was taking an awesome class called Imagining Herself, a cross-class between Women’s Studies and English Literature.  The book list was from  some Gender Studies Dream Team (for 2002, at least):
Leslie Feinberg – Stone Butch Blues
Riki Anne Wilchins – Read My Lips
Zora Neale Hurston – Dust Tracks on a Road
Kate Bornstein – Gender Outlaw
Audre Lorde – Zami: A New Spelling of My Name

And others that I can’t remember anymore.  Unfortunately, I didn’t read these books (well, I’d already read Stone Butch Blues on my own).  I couldn’t.  I was having some major depressive issues, which really put a damper on what I was capable of doing.  I hadn’t told any professors I needed help yet, but I would be doing so in the very near future.  The professor’s name was Katrina (not her real name).  I sort of had a girlfriend at the time, whom I’ll refer to as “girlfriend?”  Question mark, because I was never clear on whether we were actually together.  Girlfriend? had been in this class the semester before me, so the professor had a clear memory of her.

Here’s what I wrote on Halloween, 12 years ago:
_________________________________
More than ever, I became terribly anxious in Imagining Herself today. I think because we were discussing Stone Butch Blues, and I felt like I was supposed to be adding to the discussion, yet I couldn’t say anything. I’m one of five people in class who are potentially VERY focused on issues raised in that book. These other classmates all contributed a lot. I contributed nothing. I just couldn’t. Katrina even brought attention to me because of the zines I’ve been handing in for my project. She wanted me to talk about some of the stuff.

“[Janitorqueer’s] been doing these amazing zines,” she told the class. I felt like I was in elementary school again, simultaneously hoping for and fearing any kind of attention. “Can you share with us your thoughts about what you’ve been writing about, after reading through Stone Butch Blues again?” I hadn’t read through Stone Butch Blues again. I hadn’t yet read ANY of the books for class. I feel guilty and like a fraud. I stared straight ahead. Said, ” … um … ” in almost a whisper. My mind was totally blank. Why does this happen? She acknowledged my discomfort by asking me if we should just move on. I said, “yeah.”

I thought I might cry. How awful would that have been. I tuned out completely to avoid that scene, and that worked really well. I came back to reality within a few minutes. But for the rest of class, all I wanted to do was grab all of my stuff and run out of the room … go and hide. I have this urge often in class, but it’s never been THIS intense. Sometimes I want to slip through the edge of the floor, but not today. I just wanted to explode out, to escape.

Girlfriend? was brought up during the discussion! We were talking about clothing and performance, and Katrina asked me, “You know [your girlfriend?], right?” I nodded. Because I referred to girlfriend? a few times in my zines, she must have made the connection. Then she addressed the class. “Girlfriend? uses clothes as a performance all the time. She is always playing … she’ll wear goth, hello kitty, Ragedy Ann (girlfriend? prefers to call this one “Bag Lady”) … and when she came into class the day people were instructed to wear particularly masculine or feminine clothing, something different than normal, she said that this isn’t any different for her than any other day because she’s always playing. She feels comfortable dressing extremely masculine and/or feminine.”

A classmate asked, “Did she have pink hair for a while last year?” and I nodded, yes. “Oh, ok, I had a class with her. She is really interesting.” Katrina: “Yeah, she’s very bright.” Classmate: “Political Science major?” I nodded again.

I don’t think I’ve ever thought of girlfriend?’s incredible attention to clothing as “playing.” I thought of it as this valley girl thing she does. This thing which is sometimes tedious and sometimes fun and goofy. (She is really excited about creating me as a goth girl for Halloween.) To look at it as a carefully planned out form of play makes me respect it much more. I feel proud that I “know” her. I feel especially tender toward her, or something, ah, I don’t know! Anyway …”

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
________________________________________

I remember that Halloween.  She dressed me up in her clothing and did my hair and make-up.  I liked it.  She was dressed as a school-girl gone wrong, or something to that effect.  It was a really warm night, and we kind of just walked around a lot, stopping in at this party and that party, maybe acquaintances of hers.  (I had no idea.  As per usual, I was out of it, dissociating.)

It makes me think about all the things we can be expressing with our clothing choices, gender-wise and otherwise.  And although Halloween costumes are extremes, all sorts of outfits can be seen as “costumes.”  Getting dressed up in formal wear?  Costume.  Even business casual?  Still, costume.  Work out clothes?  Total costume.  If it’s not a t-shirt, hoodie, button-up shirt (mostly flannel), jeans, corduroys (or gym shorts, sweat pants for lounging around), hiking boots, or skater shoes, to me, it feels like a costume.  Which isn’t a bad thing at all!  Costumes have their times and places – I love costumes!  But I will not compromise and wear clothing that does not allow me to feel like myself, when that’s all I wanna be.

Another blog writer covers some similar concepts, here – Becoming Hope:  Masks

Oh, and completely coincidentally, this year I’m going as a goth boy for Halloween.
What’s your take on costumes?

Getting slammed by visions of violence

Posted: July 16, 2014 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Trigger warning:  violent imagery (as the title suggests).

Last week, I was in high stress mode.  It’s due to an annual drastic change in my work schedule (and really no other reasons, as far as I know about.  I mean, I have other stressors going on, but nothing I can’t usually handle.)  This happens every single year, and it really affects how I engage with summer.  I can always predict it; simultaneously, I always conveniently forget how extreme it gets.

I wrote what follows last week, when I was in the thick of it.  And then I just sat on it, because I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to post it.  Partially because it’s a departure from what I usually write about.  Now that I’m feeling better, I find that, yes, I’ll post it.  So, here’s what I wrote, only slightly edited:

My mind’s reaction to long-term stress is terrifying to me.  I continue to wonder if this is really just how it is. (Why can’t I just grow out of this???).  Some people get stress-induced migraines or upset stomachs or struggle with insomnia.  Anything like that is, without a doubt, difficult to deal with.  In a big way, I am glad I am not afflicted with those stress-responses.  In some way though, a part of me wishes for something like that instead,  but only because it’s relate-able and I’d probably feel like I could talk about it with others.  “My stomach is in knots thinking about what I have to do.”  Or, “I’m losing sleep over this.”  These phrases are super common.

When I get stressed out for long enough, it feels like my brain is rotting away.  I lose brain functioning (not a figure of speech – my cognitive abilities actually suffer in some big ways.)  But more than this:  It feels as if my brain has turned against me; I am bombarded by visions – images of violence being inflicted upon me.  I do not know what I can do.  I can distract myself.  I can try stress reduction techniques.  I can (and do) follow through with inflicting pain on myself in an attempt to stop the visions.  None of these things have ever worked too well when I’m actually in it.  When I was younger, I was “in it” on-and-off for years and years and years.  It would become intolerable.  It’d be beyond intolerable, but, of course, I had to keep waking up and living it, over and over again because there’s no getting away from your own mind.

Often, my brain would feel so rotten that I couldn’t read, I couldn’t make sense of things on TV or in movies.  I couldn’t talk to people or follow a conversation.  Eventually I couldn’t do any schoolwork at all.  (And it wasn’t about concentration, which is a common issue with people who are depressed.  It was specifically that synapses seemingly disintegrated.)  I made it through because luckily I had a therapist at home and a therapist at school, and they helped advocate for me to get accommodations I needed to not flunk or drop out of college.  I felt like dropping out.  I “got by” with very high grades, because I couldn’t have lived with myself with anything less.  ???  Does this make any sense at all?  I was barely functioning, yet I somehow ended up with very high marks.  If my grades had ended up slipping, I would have been even more abusive to myself.  Maybe the people around me could sense that.

Somehow, I could still write, surprisingly eloquently.  Although, it was limited to journal-style writing, not academic-style writing.  Like what I’m doing right now.  When I can’t seem to do anything else.

I get barraged with images spanning from mild (such as my face being slapped or my skin being cut) to morbid (such as being hacked away at with an axe.  Or my head being whacked repeatedly with a 2×4.  Or falling and hitting my head so hard that I pass out.  Or my neck being held down as I am whipped over and over and over again.)  These images are never sexual.  They are disturbing and unwanted.  I seem to have no control over them.

I have heard of some people struggling with urges to actively do something they do not actually want to do.  Like inflicting pain onto someone else.  Or stepping off the subway platform in front of a subway.  Or driving their car off the road and down a steep ravine.  There is an excellent graphic novel I would highly recommend that is largely about this compulsion.  It’s called The Nao of Brown.  What I’m talking about is so similar, yet strikingly different.  I am never the one in control.  I’m not harming anyone else or actively harming myself.  It is always an anonymous person outside the visual frame, inflicting violence on me.  I’m the object; I’m looking at myself.

Last week I told my therapist, “whoever made brains needs to try again.”

 

School is out for the summer

Posted: June 25, 2014 | Author: | Filed under: Janitorial work | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Monday was the last day of school over here.  Such an exciting time for students and teachers!!!  A time of adjustment for parents, I imagine.  For janitors, it doesn’t mean much.  We’re still working, we’ll just be doing different (but just as physical, if not more so) tasks.  And, it means we’ll be switching from working nights, to working early.

A lot of times, people (outside of work) ask me if I work during the summer.  They assume that I don’t.  For the record:  school janitors work all summer long.  How else would the school look all shiny and new on the first day of school????  Little tiny elves?!!

schools_out1-300x214This has historically been the hardest time of year for me.  Everyone is so excited about the nice weather and their upcoming freedom.  Teachers are clearing out their rooms in anticipation of new stuff they ordered for next year.  I start getting really emotional about everyone leaving.  I start trying to save as much of the stuff they are throwing out.  I start fretting about being ripped away from my routine, and having to work closely with my co-workers all day, every day.  I start isolating as much as I can get away with.  I know this is some strong language for what seems like no big deal, but it really has felt this extreme for me.

It’s been getting better the past two years.  Like everything else in my life, I’m starting to be able to handle it easier.  I feel more at ease with my co-workers, and the idea that I will actually be working with them.  I chat with teachers about their summer plans.  I don’t try to save everything they throw away; I’m becoming more selective.  As a side note, anything I do get out of the trash, I immediately create a strong bond with it, for some reason.  Stuff from trash is much more valuable, often, than stuff I choose to buy.  Not sure why.

Last-Day-of-School-Bus-278x300But I still can’t let myself get swept up in the energy of the last day of school.  I don’t make an effort to say good-bye to all the kids or anything.  What they do at our school is, Kindergarten through 4th grade students all go out early and position themselves out on the bus loop, so that when 5th graders head out to get on their buses, they get a big send-off.  Then everyone boards their bus, and all the buses take two laps around the bus loop as all the staff cheer and wish them farewell.  And kids are allowed to hang out the windows, just this one time, and everyone is yelling and cheering and crying.  I cannot be there for that.  Maybe one day.  I just stay in the building and dump garbages, because it is too intense to be a part of that.

So far this year, I have found in the garbage:

  • dozens of envelopes, in different bright colors
  • two coffee mugs, one which says, “I ❤ Tea, I ❤ Teaching”
  • a plastic travel cup with straw
  • a bunch of tracing paper
  • some books, one which is called, “Subway Art”
  • a bunch of Teddy Grahams and string cheeses
  • A North Face jacket, which will actually fit me
  • silly bandz!!!!!

And really that’s it so far, which is a very good thing!  The past few years, there have been times of huge upheaval.  Asbestos removal about 6 years ago, massive room changes about 3 years ago, new carpet installation 2 years ago.  Anything like this, and teachers toss out soooooo much.  And I respond in a frenzied fashion.  I cannot see useful things go into the dumpster.  This year feels so smooth and relaxed, in comparison.  I am glad.

A partial list of some stuff I’ve found in the past:

  • an iPod shuffle
  • another iPod shuffle
  • Nintendo DS games
  • lunch boxes, so many lunch boxes.  I’m always in the market to upgrade, haha.
  • a long-arm stapler
  • a long long list of art supplies and books, calculators, cameras, just… stuff.
  • silly bandz!!!!!

This time around, I am ready to try and enjoy the summer.

While I was “out,” Part 2 – partly out of the closet, fully out of the loop

Posted: April 17, 2014 | Author: | Filed under: coming out | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

For roughly 6 years, I was living sort of as the person I envisioned myself to be.  Prior to that, I’d gone through a bunch of intense periods of introspection (or maybe one really long period of continuous introspection is more like it), trying to find myself and how I identify.

By my mid-twenties, I had just kind of given up and said, “Good enough.”  Tried to move on and live my life as best I could.  (That doesn’t mean I stopped being introspective.  It just means I tried to have a life despite that.)  That life involved disconnecting from most things that were causing me too much stress and anxiety.  The LGBT community was definitely on that list, but at the time, I would have shrugged it off and told you, “it’s not that important to me.”

The LGBT community kept sending me this, and I just kept ignoring them.

The LGBT community kept sending me this, and I just kept ignoring them, because the details were always left blank.

The break-up was never about interpersonal drama or ideological disagreements.  (Although, I did feel some of that.  I strongly feel that a facilitator / leader can really make or break a group.)  I broke away because it felt too sensitive to be in touch with what was going on, and to connect with others on this identity-based level

I didn’t stop being an activist / contributor, but I did stop focusing on things that hit too close to home.  I immersed myself in endeavors such as Food Not Bombs, our local Free School, and benefits to raise money for a particular community space, Indymedia, etc.  I overextended myself way past the point of burn-out.  I’ve taken huge steps back.  I’m currently at a precipice, figuring out what to throw my energies into next, and how to do it differently.

I was not very happy, but I had resigned myself to thinking that this is just how things are for me.  I was so uncomfortable in my own skin.  My anxiety levels were so high, on a normal day, on every normal day.  I self-injured and shut-down (dissociated) regularly, just to cope with daily life.  I forced myself to do so many things, all the time, out of fear of sinking into yet another depression.  I was hyper-vigilant of my internal states and tried to regulate all my emotions – squish and squelch them, twist them into something else and rationalize them away.  I was aware that I was capable of having a sex drive, but it was so far gone I didn’t have the slightest idea of how to coax it back.  (And I really wanted it back.)

It’s not like my life was super stressful!  I work as a janitor.  I don’t have any dependents.  I don’t have money concerns, health concerns, family drama, nothing!  Haha.

I just did not want to worry any more about gender!  I had a huge amount of body dysphoria.  I felt totally lost a lot of the time.  But it wasn’t going to be about gender.  It was going to be about any number of other things.  Because, bottom-line, trying to figure out if I should transition or not was stressing the hell out of me, for years and years and years.  I did go through a (fortunately unsuccessful) time period where I said, OK, this is about gender.  And I found a therapist to talk about that, specifically.  (I was probably 28 at this point.)  I thought I was headed on a neat and tidy (and difficult) path to finally sort this all out and probably start testosterone and transition into a visible man.  Except, I never wanted to be a man.  It’s just that I had backed myself into a corner, and this was my escape plan.  But there was no way that could have worked; I knew myself too well.  I never ended up connecting with the therapist, I never even convinced myself to begin with, and the whole plan just stalled out.

(This kinda ends abruptly, but part 3 will be coming soon.  If you’re interested, here is part 1.)

 

This year felt different… in a good way

Posted: December 31, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

It’s really hard to quantify these things, but I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that this past year was the best year of my life.  A lot of great things happened, I got to travel a lot, I got married (as I’ve been mentioning in every single recent post, haha)!  And all those things are awesome.  But the reason this year was so good was because I felt so different.  I’d been struggling with some pretty crippling anxiety for like, forever.  And I’d made quite a bit of progress over the past 2 years in therapy, but basically, I had constructed much of my life in ways to insulate myself from the things that were anxiety provoking.  And no amount of therapy was going to help me strip that all away if I was still experiencing such unpleasant physiological reactions.  Then I started taking a low dose of testosterone on March 18th and POOF!  Anxiety dissipated into thin air, and I’ve just kinda been reveling in how good everything feels for the rest of this year.  I hope I get to keep reveling for years to come… We’ll see.  Here’s a couple of other things that were awesome:

– C and I went on vacation to Asheville, NC.  It was our first grown-up vacation ever, by which I mean we flew there, rented a car (I’d never done this before), used Airbnb to find lodging (we always go somewhere on vacation where we can stay with friends – don’t get me wrong, I love seeing friends, but this just felt so different.), and just did a lot of local things – restaurants, microbreweries, hiking, cultural arts center, etc.

– We went on a bunch of other smaller trips: to Toronto twice (we went to the Toronto Comics Arts Festival and to the Sister Spit Tour), to Philadelphia (Trans Health Conference!), to NYC (Brothers Quay exhibit at MOMA!), and I went on a solo trip to Worcester and Boston.

Ulli Lust

(Here I am at the Toronto Comics Arts Festival, making a ridiculous face – I’m in line, in the middle, the short guy.  I found this pic on the Fantagraphics website – er rather, a friend came across it and sent it to me, and Fantagraphics captioned it: “Then the magical Ulli Lust made her appearance. Leon Avelino of Secret Acres and The Beguiling’s Peter Birkmoe showed up but were sadly outdone by the BEST CON FACE EVER. Thank you, Toronto.”  I’m highly amused by this, haha.)

– Like I mentioned, I started using a low dose of testosterone in March.   Best.  Thing.  Ever.

– My supervisor and I started to actually get along at work.  We now work really well together (so far), whereas in the past, we have had some pretty major clashes.

– I read 26 books.  This number is way down from the past few years, but for prior to a few years ago, I wasn’t reading anything at all, so it’s still kinda a big deal for me!

– C and I got married and went on a fun weekend getaway!

– I met a new friend, a really introspective, really effeminate and handsome queer guy.

– I got a new bike, but did not really ride it nearly enough.

– I was in a really fun play and did a couple of drag shows.

– I started this blog!

There’s probably more, but that was pretty much what 2013 looked like for me.

From whimsical musings to invasive ruminations on transitioning

Posted: September 17, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: Testosterone | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

For over a decade, I had been going back and forth hundreds (thousands?) of times in my head about whether transitioning was right for me or not.  Or if not every aspect of it, what about this but not that?  Will I ever move forward with some aspect maybe?  At some point not that long ago, I seemed to come to the conclusion that no, I wasn’t going to move forward because if I were, I would have done something about it by now.  And I haven’t, so I’m not.  I must be lacking some internal drive, so it must not be something that I need to do.  I settled on identifying as genderqueer and trans* but not planning on medically transitioning in any way.  And I seemed satisfied with that.  (?)  But not quite, or, no, not at all actually.  Because it was still on my mind.  Sometimes just as whimsical musings in the back of my brain.  Other times as pervasive/invasive body-dysphoric consistent ruminations.

I guess I always thought that if I did move forward with something, it would be top surgery, and not HRT.  Because I never want to consistently pass as male.  I want to continue looking androgynous forever.  Top surgery could help with that (although I’m fortunate in that I can get away without surgery, and without binding, in hiding what I have).  Taking testosterone would be going further than I want to go.  So I thought.

I thought it had to be all or nothing.  I thought I had to have a case ready about how I need to transition, in order to access testosterone.  And I don’t need to transiton, and I really don’t like to lie.  I thought I would need a letter from a therapist, and to jump through all these hoops, to access testosterone.  And I wasn’t even sure I wanted it!  Eventually I reached a point where I just knew that I needed to try it, at some point, just so that I could know.  So that at the very least, I could think about it differently or think about it less often, as it relates to a decision about something I should or should not do.

I have this awesome therapist.  She doesn’t know much about trans* identities.  I’m fairly certain she had not previously had a trans* client before, although I could be wrong.  I’d been talking to her about this stuff, and she’d been following along, more or less, in stride.  When I would say I need to try this out, she would say, “then why not!”  I asked her if she’d write me a letter if need be, and she said she wouldn’t be comfortable doing that; she doesn’t have enough knowledge about it.  Still operating under the assumption that I would need a letter, I started also seeing another therapist, basically for the purpose of getting a letter.

This second therapist gave me the name of a doctor during our first session.  Turns out that, apparently, I didn’t need a letter!  Turns out I didn’t need to convince anyone at any point that I wanted to transition medically.  I never once had to lie to get my hands on testosterone.  And once I did get my hands on it, I was given the freedom to experiment with the dosing, basically use as much or as little as I wanted.  Turns out I want to use as little as possible.  Turns out I might be able to stay on it for the rest of my life without looking any more masculine than I currently do (this has yet to be proven, but it’s been 6 months now, and so far, so good).  And the internal effects, with this super low dose, are significant and pretty much better than I could have even hoped for.

Basically, for all those years of wondering and second-guessing and processing and feeling anxious and obsessing and daydreaming and doubting myself and ultimately sort of concluding by default that I wouldn’t take any steps forward, actually doing something about it has been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

And in retrospect, it isn’t like there’s no turning back, to some extent.  Testosterone is a slow-moving substance in terms of long-term changes… I’m really enjoying the internal forward momentum though.

Newer Entries →