My Transition - Discovering Myself

Trivial Sexual Content!

I talk a little about when I began to explore my sexuality in this post. There's some minor sexual content in some of my descriptions, but nothing significantly graphic.

Trigger warning:

This post describes the hardships of rediscovering myself, and it describes the mental breakdown I had following it. Just be wary, and if you feel a PTSD reaction, please stop reading and practice self care.

Considering I'm now at the point where I've been on hormones for over a year, I think I should post a little something extra! The Month 12 post will be up after I finish experiencing it, but until then...

I'm going to talk about how I first came to question my gender identity, and how it affected my life. To the best of my memory, of course.

In the beginning...

I've always been a little "flowery," kind of like a fairy. As a small child of around 4 I remember bringing blankets out on the front lawn and having tea party picnics with my stuffed animals. I had pretty easily hurt feelings and, not knowing how to properly handle my emotions, I was like an extremely delicate flower that would fall apart if poked wrong. I would prance and hop when I ran, rather than a forceful run. I was very soft-spoken, I liked having longer hair, my voice was high (wish it stayed that way), I was quite short, and when I got older, I really did not like puberty... The body hair, the voice drop, the greasy skin, my adam's apple, none of it... I could list a good amount of qualities that could have been telling signs that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't a very masculine person.

But I wasn't exposed to anything trans-related growing up. The closest I had was Bugs Bunny's crossdressing and the movie Mrs. Doubtfire (which I absolutely loved). Neither of those examples put transgender people in the most positive light, since they were used as the butt of a joke. Laughing at someone because they're wearing a dress does not help a trans person come out. It builds up the idea that it's funny, and that you'll be laughed at and ridiculed if you do the same. Also, none of those examples were truly about trans people, because crossdressing does not make you trans. You can be a cisgender man dressed like a woman, but if he's still saying he's a man, then that's crossdressing, not transgender. Transgender is when you ARE a woman, not necessarily when you're DRESSED like a woman. Does that make sense? I hope so, because I never get any comments on this blog, so I can't hear your feedback.

My parents, when I was young, were Christian. My parents split up when I was around 5 resulting in a divorce, and my mom started to lean away from Christianity to figure out her own path. My dad stuck with Christianity for a long time, largely influenced by his second wife. But following his second divorce, and his heart surgery, I get the feeling something changed about that. I have yet to ask him if he still considers himself Christian, but he certainly doesn't act as much like a stereotypical one anymore. Especially considering he's accepted me as his daughter. 

I had a very conservative experience with Christianity, so pardon my bias. I understand that not all Christians are bigoted against the LGBTQ community. It's just that a large majority of the ones I've met in my life have been. For more on that, you can read my Thoughts About Christianity post.

So I had this negative image of crossdressing built up in my mind, from the media we're all exposed to, and from my Christian background. I knew nothing about anything with this stuff, so I thought crossdressing was just something all gay people do, and I categorized everything relating to LGBTQ stuff as "being gay." Cartoons showing male characters kissing other male characters as part of a punchline taught me that being gay is funny/wrong, reinforcing the teachings the church tried to drill into me about god hating gay people. Somehow, through all of that, it never made sense to me to hate someone for those reasons, so I never truly believed it. It just seemed like such a silly reason to hate someone.

This is why it took me so long to come out, or to even question it. I was called gay all the time in a derogatory way, but being called gay in that manner doesn't cause you to question it, it causes you to receive it as an insult, giving you the gut instinct to fight back and deny it. So here I was, constantly being called gay, and constantly denying it, never once truly questioning myself. Just reacting, not thinking.

I'll probably do a more in-depth post about this someday, but long story short I had to deal with anti-gay Christian teachings at my dad's, public/private school anti-gay bullies at school, and an abusive anti-gay asshole at my mom's. I lived at my mom's primarily, so that abusive asshole was the one who called me gay all the time as an insult and ridiculed me at every turn. Because of this, had I come out at an earlier age, I may not have survived. My mom said when I was around 10 I threatened to jump out the window of my room. I have no memory of that, but I do know that I had suicidal thoughts starting at the age of 7. At least, those are the earliest ones I remember. But that's another story...

My point is that between all this crap, and the stuff I haven't even written about, it was pushed pretty deep in my mind that because being gay was "wrong," there's no way I could be gay. Right? Right.

Hah! Wow, how cute. I was so wrong on so many levels...

Finding representation

So amidst all of this, how the heck did I ever discover myself? Well, I got to go to some parent-partnership homeschool centers where the teachers were nurturing to me. I considered school to be my home, and we lived a literal block away from one of them, so I went there often, even when I had no classes that day. My crush's mom was bisexual, which I thought was interesting, but didn't really give the idea any real thought. I was taught that being gay was controversial, so I figured,

"Well, she's bi, so obviously there's nothing controversial about that because she still likes men too, right?"

I guess I didn't categorize being bi as being gay, even though I recognized that it meant she likes women too. This is probably because I wasn't told how to think about that concept, so I made up my own idea of what to think about it:

"Cool. I've never heard of that. Interesting. What's for dinner?"

Then some years later, when I was 12, my mom and I moved to a wonderful co-housing community, and shortly afterward the asshole left us, leaving us in the hands of a supportive community.

If you don't know what co-housing means, please click here, because I don't want to explain it myself.

In this co-housing community I met and got to know a more diverse and accepting group of people. One of the families had two moms. When I found this out, I was nervous that I was going to hear more hate crap about gay people, but the community was supportive of this family, so I didn't feel like I'd be ridiculed for associating with them. Over the years more people came and went, and I made some real lasting friendships. Some of my closer friends started calling me part girl, and nicknamed me Josephia. At first I felt weird about it, but they explained that they didn't mean it in a negative way, so it grew on me, and I totally rolled with it as an excuse to hang out with the girls.

My first relationships

When I was around 18, my first actual girlfriend and I were playing around one night, and I put on one of her bras as a joke. When she got out her phone and took a picture of me, I became extremely self-conscious, took off the bra, made her delete it, and told her never to speak of this again. Not once did I question why I tried on the bra in the first place, and not once was it really questioned that I took up the feminine role in our relationship.

Years later, the family with two moms became like a second family to me after I started dating their daughter. And this is where I finally start to question myself... If you've read my "The Other Life I Lived" post, then you'll recognize this girlfriend's name. I'm calling her Rae.

An unexpected realization

One day, I believe it was 2011, Rae and I were casually hanging out in her room while she was going through clothes. I was sitting on the bed as she found an old bra she was going to throw out. Rae walks out of the room. Without questioning myself, I grab the bra and put it on, curious to see what it would look like under my shirt. For some reason I was curious what I would look like with boobs. I also thought it'd be funny to surprise her when she got back.

She got back, saw me, and a smile came over her face as she said, 

"Hang on, it doesn't look quite right. I'll find something to stuff it."

So I was sitting there in her bra, completely beet red, but actually a little excited to see what this is going to look like when we stuffed it.

Rae got back with some toilet paper and tiny socks and began stuffing my bra and adjusting the straps and stuff. We lowered my shirt down, pulled my shirt back to look tighter, and she positioned me in front of a mirror. I looked back at myself, uncontrollably smiling, laughing, and tears started to form in my eyes. When I saw myself, I thought, 

"You know, I... I don't hate this. I like this? What does that mean?"

I started to feel dizzy and out of breath, so I sat down on the bed. I don't remember anything that happened around me, I just remember being so overwhelmed with my own thoughts, having genuinely questioned my gender and my sexuality for the first time. I began to ask so many questions, realizing that I didn't have any answers:

"Am I gay? Am I bi? Am I male? Why have I never questioned this before? I'm definitely attracted to girls. Am I attracted to guys too? I've never actually given that a try. I've always just refused it and insisted I'm not gay... What if I am? How do I know unless I experience it for myself? How much else do I not know about myself? Do I even know myself? Who and what am I?"

It was overwhelming, but the dizziness started to fade after a bit and I was able to speak again. I kept the bra on. Rae said her mom needed to see, and she took me downstairs. Her mom smiled and said the size wasn't quite right for my frame, but otherwise I looked good. Rae wanted to get me to try on some other clothes, but I was very nervous and said no, intending to pace myself. Rae gave me the bra. I kept it on until I had to go home, and I folded it up and hid it in my shirt as I came inside. After hiding the bra in my room, I tried it on again in private and began finding ways to stuff in as efficient and economic a way as possible.

Exploring myself

This bra wearing became something I did in private, and other people didn't find out until about a month later, when my mom saw me. I slept in this stuffed bra with a tank top sometimes, and I left my room to use the bathroom without taking the bra off. My mom saw me as I left the bathroom. We had an exchange that ended with me in tears as I ran back to my room... Her initial reaction left a lot to be desired, and I had no idea how to answer her questions. All I wanted was support, without needing to explain myself. But that was 7 years ago. She's far more supportive now.

I didn't know what to call myself, and I didn't want to pick some label because I didn't want to conform myself to some label someone else has come up with. So I just said I was me, whatever that means. Not male, not female, not trans, not gay, just me. I finally asked myself legitimately and genuinely what I wanted, for possibly the first time in my life, and it opened up a whole new level of critical thinking for myself. I questioned everything about myself again, relearning who I was. I legitimately questioned whether I found men to be attractive, without insisting that I wouldn't know because I "wasn't gay." I refused to answer forms that asked for me to check an optional box for male or female...

Discovering my sexuality

Shortly after I started questioning my gender and sexuality, I became curious to experiment with a guy. While I was talking to a friend online, let's call him Jon, the subject of my sexuality questioning came up, and he mentioned that he was gay. I'd known him through another friend for over a year, and I had no idea. I never had a reason to ask before. This was after my relationship with Rae had changed from romantic to friends with benefits, so I was open to experimentation. He invited me to his place to watch Firefly, and during episode 2 he asked "Is this okay?" as his hand wound up on my leg. Very much appreciating that he asked, I nervously smiled and said yes. I had never had someone come onto me like this before and initiate something sexual in this way, putting me in the docile position. I really liked it, but I was very nervous, because I'd never been with a guy before. He started rubbing my leg, moving his hand up my thigh, and as he moved in closer he checked in again to make sure it was still okay. It certainly was. After my confirmation, his hand got up my shirt, and I ended up on my back. My shirt came off, and his hand moved up my leg, grazing past my loins to loosen my pants.

Wait, what am I doing? Writing a steamy sex novel? Suffice it to say, as nervous as I was, it was lots of fun, and I wish it wasn't cut short by his father coming home, or I might've had more opportunity to explore his body after he explored mine... Which is why we decided to do this again at my place, where we wouldn't be interrupted. I was so nervous and new to everything, very little really happened at my place, but it was a valuable life experience anyway. I left the situation wishing I did more, and had the guts to at least touch him. But he was very nice through everything, and said he didn't want to take anything any further than I'd feel comfortable going. 

See, guys, THIS is how to get in a girl's pants. Freaking respect and courtesy! Also Firefly... He knew that sci-fi would make me put out...

Anyway, thanks to this friend, I experienced my first threesome, and I got some very valuable experience that helped me figure myself out more. It's because of my experiences with him that I can safely say I'm pansexual. Pansexual meaning that it doesn't matter if you're male, female, non-binary, intersex, or whatever, as long as you're human, and I find you attractive, you are a viable candidate for sexy times. 

I had to break it off with Jon because I was worried he was falling in love with me, and I didn't want to pursue him only to realize later that I'm not gay, because I was still figuring myself out. I felt so bad for years, because I know I hurt him. I still feel kind of bad, but less bad now that we're friends again. 

Years later in 2017 we talked some more and had some fun again and I actually had the guts to dive in that time. That's when I found out I'm apparently quite a natural, and I'm happy to say I've tried all the stuff I had wanted to try. Unfortunately though, I became too feminine for him after undergoing hormone treatment, so we're friends without benefits now. And that's fine with me. :)

Now moving on to my mental breakdown...

Following the events from The Other Life I Lived, and following my breakups with Rae and Jon, I had a crisis. Some might call it a mid-life crisis, but I was 22, so that's hardly mid-life. Unless you add 7 years to my age, which would've put me at 29, which might be closer... Anyway, I call this my mental breakdown. 

I lost it. I felt like I couldn't be myself in my parents' house, feeling unaccepted and unknowing of what I was, I felt completely alone in my gender struggle, and I had a very intense desire to run away from everything and move out, often going out for drives in random directions just to see where I would end up.

I moved out to an apartment that a friend owned. After moving there, I had a lot of alone time, and I found myself isolated. I made up my own label for what I was: "gender transient," which is part of where the name of this blog came from. I stayed inside and rarely visited friends. At this point I had purchased some silicone breast attachments for my chest, and I had started experimenting with shaving body hair. I was pretty regularly wearing women's clothing, having gone out for the first time to buy some with my brother's girlfriend. She helped in that process immensely, and some of my favorite clothes came from that shopping spree. But wearing the breast attachments as often as I did was causing severe acne rashes to develop on my chest, and omg, the grease was so disgusting... I wished I could just have my own breasts.

My own breasts... And there's the thought train that got me looking at surgery information. I was coming to terms with the fact that I actually wanted breasts, and it was at this time that my answer was a confirmed yes, that I did. I began dressing as a girl at work, at the marketing company I worked at. My boss was accepting and supportive, and her only concern was for my own comfort and safety, which was nice. I was in no state of mind to care about my own safety, however...

I spent a lot of time in my own head asking myself more and more prying questions about my identity, repeatedly saying to myself that I had no idea who I was anymore. I was coming to terms with what it would mean if I was transgender, what it would mean to get reassignment and/or breast augmentation surgery, how society looks at me, everything. It was all so new and unknown, and terrifying. I was extremely suicidal. I lost my job and my apartment, dropped out of college, and fell into a severe depression. My mom came to my apartment and started packing up my things to bring me home. It's good she came when she did, because there were already a few instances in which I had nearly killed myself. I've never told anyone this, but I googled how to make cyanide, I googled where to buy helium, and I looked up various ways to quickly, effectively, and painlessly kill all brain activity. It was a scary time, and I'm so glad I didn't go through with any of it, because then I wouldn't be here typing this! With my own homegrown boobs. :)

When I was taken home I spent months in bed staring at the ceiling, occasionally looking at bras, silicone attachments, and googling gender stuff online with my laptop. I was so lost, and I had no idea what to do. I started seeing therapists again, and I was put on multiple medications in an attempt to find one that would just make everything better. Nothing seemed to do anything at all.

My manic comeback

One day in 2013, I woke up feeling well rested. I hadn't felt well rested in years. I needed to renew my driver's license, so I decided I was going to go do that after breakfast. I went down and cooked an actual breakfast, and as I did so, I thought I'd go pick up a few of the remaining things from my apartment that never got moved out. While I was in the area, I ended up applying for a job at Best Buy, and another job at Staples. I didn't just pick up the remaining stuff at my old apartment, I picked up everything, including the mattress, which I carried into the car myself. When I got home I carried everything into the house from the car's normal parking spot 4 houses down, including the mattress. Then I brought everything into my room and organized it all. Then I vacuumed and cleaned the whole house, kitchen, living room, upstairs bedrooms, downstairs apartment, everything. Then I cooked dinner for everyone and planned out a strategy to manipulate the managers of the Best Buy and Staples stores against one another to raise my starting wages.

Then, after I ate dinner, I collapsed on the living room couch, in awful pain, unable to move my muscles. But everything I did that day completely turned my life around. I got the job as a technician at Staples about two weeks later with a starting wage that was higher than my assistant managers. I never had a manic episode quite like that again, but the after effects of that helped keep me on my feet, and that job got me out of the house doing something that I enjoy. As I felt my self-esteem grow as I worked, I weened myself off of my medication.

Eventually I developed enough courage to wear my silicone attachments and bras as I went to work. I never said anything, I just did it. I think most people didn't notice, but those who did rarely said anything. I'd get a few dirty looks, and a few confused looks, but I did it for me, not for them. It made me feel more comfortable to have them on than to have them off. It never became a problem, and my co-workers didn't really care. Some of them were curious, but they left it alone unless I talked about it.

By now I had discovered that other people had come up with a label called "gender fluid." I thought gender transient sounded cooler, but I just used gender fluid since other people more widely accepted that as a thing. Deep down, I still recognized that I wasn't actually gender fluid, and that this was just a label I was utilizing to satisfy other people. We do so love to define things.

And thus began my next relationship! This time, it was constructed with a foundation of my being gender fluid. In the beginning it worked out, but by the end I felt too pressured into a masculine role. As with any relationship, the problems were contributed to by both sides, but that relationship was really the point at which I realized the impact other people had on the way I expressed my gender. During this relationship I quit my job at Staples and became a technology and digital arts teacher at a local school. After that relationship ended, I felt free to explore myself with a new level of dedication.

Discovering myself

I thought a good way to proceed with my personal growth was to stay unattached, so I attempted to be happy on my own, and to not pursue another relationship. I found myself wanting physical closeness, so I decided to try out some online dating apps in an attempt to find a "friends with benefits" situation. I was looking for someone to play around with to explore my sexuality, as well as my gender. I met quite a few people, some of whom were also gender fluid, and it was interesting to hear their perspectives on things. I gradually found myself choosing to dress feminine more often than not, and every time I got home from work it became a ritual to take off my boy clothes and put on my girl clothes. The boy clothes became referred to as my work clothes.

I began to split romance and sex into two different categories, because the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it made more sense for them not to be considered the same thing. I discovered that I am romantically monogamous, though I am sexually polyamorous. This means that, as long as it is okay with all of the parties involved, I will sleep with other people that I find attractive. But I only pour my heart and soul out to my romantic partner, and I still consider kissing to be a romantic act, so I never kiss sexual partners that I am not romantically involved with.

I wasn't looking for a romantic relationship, but I ended up meeting my boyfriend online in 2016 while looking for a friend with benefits. My boyfriend is non-binary, and was referring to themself as gender fluid at the time. They use neutral they/them pronouns, but they're okay with me calling them my boyfriend. It was nice to be with someone who understood me and saw me for who I was. After a couple of dates, one thing led to another and a deeper connection developed.

My boyfriend's connections in the LGBTQ community helped immensely with various questions I had. We were (and continue to be) supportive of each other, and I felt completely at ease to be myself. I began to realize how I was more often dressing as female, and how I wasn't really that interested in being masculine, so I started questioning if I was trans. My boyfriend asked me if I wanted them to use female pronouns. I decided to try it out, and Josie became my nickname, based on the Josephia that my friends used to call me. 

As I realized how much I liked my new pronoun and nickname, I began to process what it all actually meant again. It was a lot to take in, and the idea of changing my pronoun and name sounded very intimidating. I realized that I was avoiding the idea of changing all these aspects about my life not because I didn't identify with them, but rather because it was scary. Changing my identity was scary, and it meant exposing my real self to the world. But at this point, I felt like I had the support and the mental capacity to try it.

I remember one day in late 2016 I sat down to play Stardew Valley, a computer role-playing game in which you maintain a farm and meet friends in a local town. I made a female character named Josie and modeled her to look like a more feminine version of myself. When the characters in town used my name and pronoun, something clicked in my head and I said to myself: 

"I'm trans... I'm trans female, not gender fluid. I should just be honest with myself and admit it."

I came out to my dad after that, and after coming out to him I announced my name and pronoun change on Facebook. I started looking into hormone treatment, and shortly after I started the process to legally change my name and gender.

And that's how it all began!

I do hope you enjoyed this recap of how I began my gender journey, as long a read as it may be. Some more details will be written shortly in separate posts leading up to Month 12. :)

If this was the first post you've read and you want to see the beginning of my hormone therapy journey, click here.