11:02 pm - When I should be studying, but lets face it, I'm trash.
I suppose, if I were a smart person, I'd start out with a background of who I am. Make myself more real to you, but there's a 100 part (highly embarrassing) pile of background info that you can dive into. I'm terrible at describing myself beyond short Tumblr blog summaries.
Jordan. 26. He/him/his. King trash mouth. Ready for a vegetative state.
You know the kind. All of that is true, though, but it doesn't really tell you much. But that was always my goal - keep people the fuck away from me and all my soft, sensitive bits. The feelings, not the others. I read something in a Stranger Things fan fiction, written from Johnathon's point of view and it said something about how it was easier to pretend that you didn't want anything to do with other people, then take a chance getting rejected. Rarely in my life have I ever felt so called out than I did that day.
(Unrelated note: Charlie Heaton makes my heart go thump-a-thump)
Reading my old journal, I was appalled by my frankness, but then that horror melted away into some strange brand of respect. I told everyone everything. It was so easy for me to just lay it all bare and I miss being that person who could do that online, if not in person. That's not what this is about, the journal, but that's my way of saying 'be patient'.
It's gonna take me a while to get comfortable with giving you the gritty things. I mean, lets face it, I very rarely give classmates my real phone number.
Contact, ugh.
But now onto the shit you came for:
So, on the 24th of April, I started HRT. It finally happened - my turn finally came. I think it'll be one of those days I remember with clarity for the rest of my life. Stripping off of my clothes for the exams (get checked, guys, take care of your body, even it has the wrong parts) and then watching the nurse get the IM injection started.
My new life, in a tiny needle.
One way I've dealt with dysphoria and my life until now is by almost splitting myself into two people. There's the real me, the male me and her. The person who everyone thinks I am, who I'm supposed to be. He got his first breath of air when the needle went into my muscle.
Pieces of her are starting to come loose, like crumbling brink. Give it a few months and he'll have his hand bare in the sunlight.
I don't hate her anymore, not like I used to. It wasn't her fault that she existed, just a freak accident of nature. X instead of a Y, hole instead of a pole, whatever. But she was never very strong; I didn't understand why for the longest time, but it turned out that that was because she never really existed.
It's like building something out of paper and expecting it to be solid and not rip. No dice, it just shreds. Well, the world shredded her, spit her back out.
He's different. Calm where she was jittery, brave where she was afraid. He's lived his life in the dark, that requires bravery. I don't know what he looks or sounds like yet. It's only been two weeks - my next shot is in two days - and the only effects so far have been some mood swings and increased energy the day after the shot.
It's a weird feeling, almost like I want to climb a mountain and punch a bear at once.
There is a part of my that's sad to see this face go - it looks like my mother. I'm terrified I'll see my father staring back at me after a few years, but there's no way to know for sure or to control how I change.
Oh, one super not fun twist is that it started shark week a solid two weeks early and that's terrible because it's finals week. Bury me alive. I'm ready to go. I'm a university student, by the way. Nearly a senior (oh god gross) and plotting to get into grad school. I'm majoring in German, which I like to joke is like studying suffering, but I do love it.
A lot of my issues will be college related, especially since I'll be doing most of my major transition changes while finishing as an undergrad. That's gonna be a hoot. Run into classmates with a beard and new voice, face whatever. Oh yeah I forgot to tell you, I'm trans, I'm shooting up T every week surprise, now if you excuse me I need to go jump in the river.
Not looking forward to it. That also means I have to ask my adviser to please, please, stop using female pronouns, I'm begging. I like her, she's tiny and bounces around a lot. She believes in me and we have plots for my future career, none of which you all care about terribly, I realize.
I'm on the lookout for other changes, but my appetite is still the same level of insane as always and my sex drive has always been this bananas - I'm 26, fight me about it, okay. But you'll hear about it when it happens.
I should wrap this up. I have three finals and a project meeting tomorrow and I am looking forward to none of those things. Gonna need a giant white chocolate mocha.....
With love and dramatics,
Jordan
YOU ARE READING
Light In The Tunnel: Diary of a Transman
Non-Fiction"When you get married, are you gonna wear a dress? I can't see you wearing a dress." "Funny thing about that, I'm actually Transgender. I'm a transman. Started testosterone therapy a week ago." The silence is resounding, my words smash against the g...
