I came out as bisexual in 2009. It was hard, having been raised to believe that being queer was the worst thing you could be, worse than a murderer, a rapist or a pedophile, as gay people were automatically all 3. It was, I thought, the hardest thing I would ever have to do. Holy shit was I wrong.
In 2017 my husband came out to me as transgender, we had been together for 16 years at that point, and married for 11. During his transition we had a lot of struggles, arguments, deep talks etc and I eventually later that year came out as nonbinary myself. At the time it felt like a natural progression moving towards me coming out as a binary trans woman. Then 2020 happened.
The pandemic didn't push me back in the closet, but finding out after my work closed up shop due to it that every coworker I had save a few had been part of a Facebook group dedicated to making fun of me did. I stopped wearing makeup and feminine clothes, and confined being "nonbinary" to only my online persona. I sunk deeply back into denial and depression.
In 2023 I finally moved out of the state of Indiana and back to western NY, where I was born and had lived as a child. This took off a ton of pressure for being in a gay marriage and made me feel safer, something I hadn't felt in years. I still wasn't doing any makeup or dressing in anything but baggy t-shirts and jeans, and was going through life like a robot, unable to find joy in anything, and while not actively suicidal I had zero interest in continuing to live, and didn't bother taking care of myself or doing anything to keep myself from dying. I took unnecessary risks because I had no real concern about dying, it seemed like it would be a relief from the pain of waking up wrong every morning, of being unable to look in a mirror without revulsion, of being able to stand my own voice.
In October of this year I finally broke. I sat in my backyard alone by a bonfire at 2am crying while my entire existence collapsed. I simply could not do it any more. Either I changed something or I was going to die sooner than later through just not caring. I woke my husband up at 3:18am sobbing that I was a girl and had always been a girl, that I wasn't nonbinary, and that I needed to transition.
I'm furious with myself for wasting so much time because I was afraid. I promised myself that night I wouldn't back down from this as I had so many times before from fear of losing everything I had, because at the moment I didn't really have anything, I love my family but was unable to be present for them as I was so miserable I couldn't pull out of myself long enough to engage in any meaningful way.
This past Monday I had my first appointment with my primary physician, who also handles my husband's transition care. I signed the informed consent and had a prescription for HRT that day. I had to go back to Indiana for Thanksgiving, but picked up my scrip and took my first shot this past Friday.
I don't know what is going to happen in the future, I only know that 2025 is one of the most dangerous times to be a trans woman in US history, but I also know that doesn't matter. I had to transition or perish.
If you're on the fence about whether or not to begin transition, or if you're questioning your gender identity, please don't make my mistake, because the best time to transition is now, don't wait until it's the second best time and leave your best time to do so in the past.
