I’ve been wanting to post a new blog entry for the past several days, but have found it to be very difficult to write this one. Describing the catharsis of cutting my hair had such a natural flow and rhythm that my previous post took zero effort. This is proving to be the opposite type of process. Some very powerful, dualistic emotions have emerged in the days since my last entry. First, I feel it’s important to provide some context.

This past spring, I hadn’t been working with my therapist for very long before it became obvious to both of us that taking testosterone was going to be the best course of action for me. They referred me to a practice that is known to be safe and reputable for AFAB people to seek gender-affirming care with HRT. Additionally, this practice would be able to address my physical ailments that have manifested from being postmenopausal. My dysphoria and health issues were already beginning to heighten, and I was becoming impatient for the relief that I knew hormones would provide. Unfortunately, the backlog of patients meant that there wasn’t an opening for many months. They scheduled an appointment for me in early September, and the summer seemed to crawl by as I anxiously counted down the days. Finally, the day arrived and I could feel the positive shift in my energy and a lightness in my step as I got ready for the appointment. To my distress, I ended up leaving the office full of disappointment and a sense of defeat. There had been a communication failure at the time of scheduling, and I had been sent to a provider who had zero knowledge of how to prescribe T. They told me I would need to be seen by the only MD in their office who possesses this knowledge. The only thing they could offer me in the interim was estrogen therapy to help alleviate my physical symptoms. As miserable as my body had felt for so many months, I was adamant that I wanted nothing to do with that hormone. So I headed home that day completely disheartened. The office had assured me that they would reach out as soon as possible to get me rescheduled. One week went by, and then another. I called and emailed and sent messages in my patient portal, feeling more and more hopeless as I kept receiving the response of, “we’ll call you when we have a response from the MD about getting you on their schedule.” (It’s been almost two months and I still have not heard from them.) The thought of potentially being forced to wait another five or six months to be seen was eating away at me and causing some significant depression. Desperate at this point, I sent an email to my naturopath to inquire if they knew of any other places to refer me to. Within the hour, I was thrilled to receive a response back stating that my naturopath knows how to prescribe HRT and would be happy to support me on my journey! The sense of relief and ease was immediate, but I also wished I had asked this question sooner! *sigh*

A week and a half later, my wife and I were sitting in my doctor’s office talking with them about my need for testosterone for the combined goal of post menopausal symptom relief and gender affirmation. The level of disappointment and difficulty I had previously experienced at the specialist’s office was a stark contrast to how easy and straightforward the process was with my naturopath. I had already completed the necessary blood tests to arm them with an accurate health profile, so they discussed the dosage with me and immediately called the prescription into the pharmacy. The only hiccup was going to be the bureaucracy of the insurance coverage game, but as we left the office, I was assured that I would have the vial of T in hand within the week. I felt the burden of the past six months (also years) of struggle begin to ease with the recognition of how much closer I was to beginning my medical transition. 

Fast-forward to six days later and I was getting ready to inject my first dose of T. I had imagined that this would feel jubilant and ceremonious after such a long wait, but instead, a sense of heaviness had settled on me that I couldn’t shake off. For me, the reality of the moment was that my wife and I had gone through a rather difficult week between the time of my doctor’s appointment and picking up the prescription from the pharmacy on injection day. During this stretch, the actuality of my transition suddenly became very absolute and real. Immediately following my naturopath visit, I could feel my wife’s energy shift drastically in a way that felt very uncomfortable for me. I knew something was “off,” and worried that the appointment had freaked her out. As much as I tried not to, I read into the timing of this energy shift and couldn’t help but panic at the possibility that she was having second thoughts about being with me if I transitioned. Over the course of the next few days, we left space to have some open, honest, and hard conversations. Thankfully, this is a relationship strength of ours. She acknowledged that she is experiencing a lot of difficulty that she didn’t anticipate. For me, this felt surprising and confusing since it was in contrast with how we’ve both been relating to my transness since I came out to her last February: I know in my soul that I am trans, and I’m full of excitement, optimism, relief, and joy that I’m choosing to transition. I have a loving, supportive, encouraging, open-minded partner who has been solidly behind me from the very beginning. We love each other fiercely and want to grow old together. But this doesn’t make us immune to challenges. Just because there’s an abundance of love, kindness, and support doesn’t mean it’s all sunshine and rainbows for us. It was very naive of me to not consider and predict the both/and of the situation: she loves me and supports my transition, and this is really, really hard for her. My choice to take T means enormous change in our lives. I’ve been very hyperfocused on all of the positive elements that it will bring into my life, so it’s been easy to overlook some of the hardships it will pose for both of us.   

Another issue I hadn’t previously considered and would like to fully acknowledge is the lack of supportive resources for the partners of people who are transitioning. (If anyone knows of any, please leave a comment or use the contact form!)  It’s very easy to overlook a partner’s role in the transition since the focus and fascination fall upon the person doing the transitioning. However, when there is commitment and a desire to remain together, the trans person’s journey is inevitably the journey of the partner as well – only the partner has no real control over any of it. As my wife has described it, she feels as though she’s a passenger along for the ride who doesn’t know what the final destination is. This analogy really struck me and helped me to better understand how challenging it can be to have your life entwined with someone who’s transitioning, no matter how much you may love them. 

All of these considerations and feelings were colliding around in my head as I sat at the kitchen table preparing the syringe. I stared at the miniscule 0.25mL of fluid that was about to begin determining my future in ways both known and unknown. It was extremely conflicting to be aware of all the implications of what I was about to do while also feeling settled and clear in myself that the decision to medically transition is a necessary one for me. I was ready to be proactive in determining my future while also noticing a bit of guilt creeping into my periphery for the ways my decision will be impacting my loved ones, most importantly my wife. This weightiness was evident as I swabbed my thigh with alcohol prep, uncapped the injection needle, and hovered over my leg (for quite a long time) while I worked up the gumption to execute the needle stick. My wife had offered to perform it for me, but I felt it was important for me to start getting used to it. She tried to be right there with me for moral support, but I had to ask her to go in the other room since it was making me more nervous to have her watching. After the T was injected, she came back, took my face in her hands, and gave me a reassuring kiss. We’re going to have ups and downs every step of the way, but I know in my heart that we’re going to be okay as long as we lean into that vulnerable communication space consistently.

As of writing this, I’ve had the T in my system for 5 days. Energetically, I do feel a bit less tired, but so far that’s the only difference I’ve observed. Still, I’m happy to be able to notice this very subtle shift as a way of knowing that the hormone is already starting to do its job microcosmically. It will take many weeks for the physical changes to begin appearing, and many years for those changes to plateau. I’m really not looking forward to going through puberty again, but I’m so excited and hopeful for what lies beyond that blip of time.