Processing trans feelings

Before I started transitioning, before I even came out, I asked my husband “Would you still love me if I was a man?” and you know, I kinda expected a simple yes.

I’m pansexual. I’m not attracted to everyone, but any gender and body-part combination has the potential to get a big green tick from me. I fell in love with Dear Hart before I knew what he looked like, you know? He’s got a great body but it’s not what I’m here for. Anyway, I thought it was a super innocent question, the type of thing you ask your mates when playing truth or dare. Apparently not. He was very alarmed, and I didn’t get a straight answer.

Today, all discussions between us considered, I’m pretty sure the answer is no. Had I been born with a wang, I wouldn’t have got a look-in and if I was a trans man, I’d break his heart and my own.

And yet I still ache to hear him say he’d love me no matter what. I want to be loved not despite what I am, but because of it. That, however, is not the point of today’s blog.

I’m having a lot of transition feelings and I’ve got nowhere else to process them because my therapy is on pause. Besides, if you stick with me you might a) develop a better understanding of the trans experience or b) feel seen, so I may as well blog it out.

I’m struggling with my medical transition in that I don’t know how far I want to go. Or, more specifically, I am afraid that I DO know how far I want to go, and it’s a lot more than I originally intended. Ideally I’d go on this adventure, enjoy it, and see where it leads. But I have the constant fear that I will cross some invisible line one day and my husband will be repulsed.

Or worse, I will be.

One of the big changes with testosterone therapy is hair. Body hair, specifically. And that’s a change I don’t embrace. A change I am panicking about today. There are a couple of reasons for this:

1. Trauma. Between the ages 15-21 I was abused by a man 25 years my senior. This man was very round and very very hairy. Even the idea that I could one day look down at my body and she his hairy man tits on my chest is enough to make me lose sleep at night. This trauma is why I am so resistant to Dear Hart having a beard – because even after all these years, when I feel facial hair brush my skin, I expect my abuser to be there. I think of him Every. Single. Time.
   I never want to think of him again.
2. Body hair is one of the permanent changes from testosterone, which means if I hate it, that’s too bad. There’s nothing I can do. Going off T will not make that hair disappear. My hair will not reset to default. It’s a one-way street. How much time and money and pain would I be willing to commit to removing my body hair if I hated it? Considering that I didn’t even start shaving my legs til my 30s? Not bloody much mate.
3. Hair is considered manly by society. Whilst Dear Hart has never cared whether or not I shaved my legs, I don’t think that nonchalance would extend to back hair, tummy hair, boob hair or facial hair. For a man not interested in men, I feel like my becoming a bear would be a bridge too far, you know?
4. I don’t know if I’ll ever get top surgery. I have hated having breasts since the moment my mother forced me into my first training bra, but I did find them useful when my babies were small, and I might need them again sometime. Additionally, they’re pebbles on a runway. I can hide them easily enough. Surgery is painful and expensive. I’m not sure it’s worth it for taters this tiny. As much as I wish they would magically disappear, they won’t, and the idea of hairy boobs? HERK!
5. Did I mention I don’t like hair on anyone, and I don’t want to spend hours a week obsessing over shit I don’t like about myself?

But mostly, I wish I could just ask Deer Heart what kind of men he finds aesthetically pleasing. Like I get that sexuality and attraction aren’t a choice, but there are probably things I can do to be more tolerable as a trans masc person, just as there were things I did when I identified as a woman to move closer to his ‘type’. Because I know what kind of women he’s into and I have never come close to that, but he’s attracted to me anyway.

In this time of change and uncertainty, where luck plays a huge part, I wish I had something to aim for OR conversely, I wish I could relax into it and see where second puberty would take me, but neither of these are options.

The pressure is crushing me. I hate that I’m making people uncomfortable.

And I know I am. There are a million little signs. Or silences. For example, any time I see my GP the people closest to me ask how my appointment went. Same for other places I go, like the blood donor centre, gyno, or allergy specialist. But any time I see my gender specialist it’s crickets.

I can have conversations with people about pretty much anything, but if someone asks how I am and the answer has something to do with my transition I quite often won’t get a response. They will ignore that I spoke and move on to the next topic.

I feel like I have a big dirty secret, except it’s not a secret, everyone knows, and I’m ruining their suspension of disbelief any time I speak.

As I type I realise I just want reassurance. I don’t want my whole life to change just because my body is – in the same way I imagine people feel when they gain or lose a lot of weight, have cosmetic surgery, or have an accident/ illness that drastically changes their bodies.

At the same time, I recognise that people can’t control who or what they are attracted to, and just as no one can expect me to be someone I’m not, I can’t expect others to be who they’re not.

Ugh, my brain is going in circles today.

Update:

I had an appointment booked in with my gender specialist, but she went into labour early and so I ended up seeing a back-up doctor who’s not a gender specialist. I asked about DHT blockers (DHT is the expression of Testosterone responsible for body hair growth, bottom growth, and male pattern balding) but he said “It’s not that simple, Miriam,” and that he’d look into it. Whilst that’s not a hard no, his time is expensive. I’m not willing to pay the fee just to get a no. Especially when, now I’ve had a few days to calm down, I’m no-longer freaking about about this.

Why leave this blog up? Because it’s honest. Because if another trans masc find this when they are having similar worries, they’ll see that how they feel in the moment could very well be temporary. Also because social media makes it seem like getting a DHT blocker alongside T is easy – that you can just tell your doctor what meds they’re going to put you on – when it doesn’t work like that. Our doctors likely know more on these topics than we do, and we should be guided by them.

Miriam Cumming is a trans masculine enby living in Sydney, Australia. Ze uses both they/them and ze/hir pronouns. Ze has blogged out hir deepest fears and dirtiest thoughts, hoping to connect with others through the strength of integrity, for half hir life. When ze’s not spilling secrets online, Miriam practices witchcraft, hangs out in hir garden, and tries to raise hir children to be compassionate and polite.
You can find more trans content on Miriam’s TikTok, or more witchy content on IG.