Thoughts of a Trans-girl

She

It's absurd to ever think I'm the only person to have ever thought something. Even our most ingenious inventions are based off of too many other human influences to truly be called original in the strictest sense. The more isolated my life becomes, though, the more easy it becomes to think I'm the only one feeling, thinking, are behaving in certain ways. It's a delusion built from solitude.

For the sake of clarity, I should establish that I'm a transgender. I was born male, and spent the first 25 years of my life trying to figure out why it never felt right. Now I'm transitioning, albeit slowly, to female. I'd always hated my old name for quite a few reasons, but now my name is Ascera. That alone feels empowering after spending half a lifetime feeling misunderstood even to myself.

The other highly relevant fact anyone reading this should know is that one of my immediate family members has DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder). That's important to consider when finding the right perspective to my transition. I've spent years associating and communicating with different personalities through the same physical person, and it's brought a few things about my transition to attention.

I've noticed this among other transgender people in passing, but am curious as to how common it is. Early on, when I first "came out" about believing I was female, I noticed that I referred to my other self as she rather than I. Over the last two years, I've also noticed that this division doesn't always occur. Depending on my mindset at the time, as well as my mood and a number of other factors, I will refer to Ascera as I, or as she, or even as "we". The farther along I've gotten, the more often I is used in place of she, but none of it is ever directly conscious.

It would make sense that as a transgender a person might feel more or less connected to the outward representation of their opposite sex, but internally that distinction shouldn't exist. From what I've been able to observe in my own behaviors, it seems that other people in the vicinity have the largest impact on which pronoun I use at any given time. When I'm alone at home, however, it's almost always I.

That may or may not seem like a big deal, but it's an interesting psychological twitch. With my relative, her personalities are clearly distinct, from tone of voice to body language, every personality maintains consistent and unique traits. In most cases, each personality feels separated from the others and refers to them as "she" or "they". Whenever several personalities are present, the occasional "we" slips out with little notice.

So with a transgender (or at least me), some things are very clearly different than that of someone who is dissociative. The present "self" is more a reflection of how aligned I feel internally, and partially determined by the company present and their effect on my ability to be open. Certain aspects of feminine behaviors are completely natural, although they have been suppressed for years and are somewhat difficult to revive. Other aspects feel artificial, having never been female originally and therefore lacking significant cultural influence that is normally experienced earlier on in life (teenage years). The more artificial certain behaviors feel to me, the more dissonance I feel between who I was and who I am becoming.

Even stating it like that doesn't sound right, and that is part of the reason I'm writing this. I consider the old identity and the majority of my male behaviors to be artificial. I learned when I was younger to bury away any feminine tendencies I had in order to avoid getting bullied. I was often called gay when I was younger, but could never understand why anyone ever thought that. Of course, I was raised in a fairly strict religious home, so knowledge of transgenderism or anything related was taboo even to learn about. So throughout my teenage and young adult years, I buried more and more of who I was underneath what I was.

I don't view the male "me" as a real personality, but a construct designed to hide myself from anyone around me. Still, I've grown so accustomed to wearing this skin and keeping the mask on that it's proven challenging to let the real me out from under all the barriers. In a way, that leaves me feeling adrift between them. Both personas have "fake" and "real" aspects, and no matter how far I go I will never be able to undo the years I spent as a male. That makes me something different; I'm neither completely one gender nor the other. While I have no doubts about the transition, or that Ascera is who I am, it does mean that there will always be a difference between me and either distinct gender.

The gender transition involves a lot more than just physical change. It takes a lot of mental fortitude, especially if the people who have always been close to you can't understand. It takes courage beyond what everyone else can see, because it requires a constant internal evaluation of self both intellectually and emotionally. Every movement, every spoken word, and every single breath becomes a moment of scrutiny. It's a constant level of pressure and stress that lasts through the days and nights all along the journey.

Fortunately, some things come easier than others. With practice and a clear idea of a goal, the need for focus lessens over time. But it's no small amount of time; this journey takes years. It hasn't stopped feeling intimidating since I first started researching the gender change, and that was already two years ago. Searching for myself in all of this mess is still a lot of pressure, but there are more and more moments that let me feel like myself as I keep moving forward. Those moments, to me, are what all of this is for. They make everything a transgender endures feel worth it, if only ever for a moment at a time.