4 years ago, I was not out
4 years ago, I didn’t want to wake up everyday from bed
4 years ago, I hated myself relentlessly and I was naive enough to trust people who would hurt me in more ways than I could imagine.
4 years ago, I had the wardrobe of a typical girl. Containing bras, shirts sized for female bodies, and tight jeans on my hips to express my curves with the whole world.
4 years ago, I slept in a cramped room that only led to cramped thoughts. I slept in a twin sized bed and shared that room.
4 years ago, I was rude to everyone I came into contact with unless I was familiar with them.
4 years ago, if you would’ve told me I looked gross I would have believed you and allowed it to ruin my day.
4 years ago, I was engulfed in self hatred, trying to find my identity, I was chronically depressed and needed help, I was a danger to myself and those around me. But those who were supposed to do a job of protecting me did not do so successfully.
4 years later, I am out as trans ftm and I have the most utmost and supportive people I wouldn’t have thought in a million years I could have had. I have people who are on my team, who are with me with every struggle and journey I go through. I have people who simply accept me and don’t treat me differently. I have people who have allowed me to become their family and treat me as their own regardless of my identity.
4 years later, I wake up from my bed motivated to be a better me than the day before. I still have ups and downs but I wake up now, wanting more out of life than I ever had because I can be thankful for everything life has taught me.
4 years later, I don’t hate myself and when I look in the mirror I’m staring to see what I always wanted. I can say confidently I know who I am and my pride doesn’t allow me to put negative people into my life. I am learning to keep bad people away and I will always come in contact with them; but I know myself to stay away and not let myself be affected by their misery.
4 years later, I look into my closet and all I see is gender reaffirming clothing. I see dress shirts and dress shoes of a business man. I see shorts that lay comfortably below my waist and jeans that are fitted, but not atrociously showing off my body.
4 years later, I have my own room. I sleep in my own bed. And I even have a pet cat named Presley who sleeps with me from time to time. My room is decorated with art and accompanied with things that make me happy. I can express my thoughts with a therapist or through my art, comfortably.
4 years later, I like to think of myself as a person who treats you with respect if it has been given in return. I like to think my attitude is better towards people I’m not familiar with and treat them with kindness.
4 years later, if you would’ve told me something insulting about my appearance or who I am, I would shrug it off and tell myself I’m handsome and worth it. I don’t let people’s inner feelings about themselves bounce off onto me.
4 years later, when I tell myself something not very emotionally uplifting I cringe because I’m not like that anymore. I can look at my body and finally be satisfied because this is my temple and it’s not going anywhere. I can accept myself for what I am and the changes I want to go through as a part of my transition and I’m totally okay with that. I’m not as chronically depressed because I take antidepressants and it makes me feel so much more in tune with life and those around me. I’m not a danger to myself anymore. And I don’t plan to change that. Some people have come around in terms of acceptance, and loving me but some have not. And I truly cherish and adore the one parent that has done his best until this very point in owning up to the title of a parent.
4 years of therapy, 4 years of pain, 4 years of trials and tribulations, and 4 years of growth. Never give up. The universe has a plan for you.