In my journey through the spectrum of gender, I have seen and experienced countless amazing things. The ability to feel multiple emotions all at once, something some might hint at as a mental defect, but that those on the feminine side of the spectrum just accept as having emotions. The ability to bark in a thick, powerful male voice to call the dog from the backyard. The things inherent to each gender I have lived my life in. However, the thing I have found most remarkable has nothing to do with my perceived physical attributes, rather than in my own brain. Note that I say brain and not mind here.

One of the things about being a trans person is that aside from your sense of self, there is no way to gauge how well you are “doing,” whether that be in simply expressing your gender or transition itself. There is no flag or finish line to mark the end of one’s journey and announce their victory over the masculine and/or feminine.

As previously outlined, my journey through gender has been a rocky, pothole-filled road with many cliffs to fall off. I transitioned twice and de-transitioned twice in an effort to “get it right.” I subjected my body to surgery my social life to the stick of dynamite called transition. All in the name of a nebulous idea of “me.”

It might sound as if I regret my journey and the choices within it, but that is not the case because it was that journey with all its pain and hardships that awarded me the life lessons I needed not only to find myself but also to talk about gender here.

There is one thing, however, that signals the “right” in what I have done.

As I mentioned in my previous articles, after my surgery, I had trouble finding proper medical care in the administration of hormone therapy, something that all people who have transitioned are required to keep up for the rest of their lives. The hormones control not only the secondary sexual attributes of the individual but, in truth, a whole myriad of things you would not think had anything to do with “sex hormones.” In my struggles to find medical care, my hormone regimen was interrupted and ultimately stopped altogether, which, in retrospect, turned out to be one of the worst things that could happen to me.

I got sick regularly, and my previously semi-controlled anxiety grew into a monster that took over my life completely. My muscles always hurt, and my nails and skin grew dry and brittle. My mind lived in a constant fog, unable to concentrate on anything nor care about the things I once had. I felt like I was dying.

After de-transitioning, I found a doctor and laid my cards on the table. My problem was now much less one of gender and was now about just not feeling ill and panicking all the time. I need to work to live, something I could not do. I needed an answer, any answer.

The doctor’s advice was simple. I was born biologically male, so therefore administering testosterone would fix all my problems!

Once upon a time, I would have balked at the idea and walked out of the office in a huff, but I was desperate. I walked out of the doctor’s office with a prescription for the thing I once considered poison to my body: testosterone.

I dutifully took my medicine for several months and noticed the expected changes. My skin went from paper to thicker and rougher, the tens of thousands of dollars of painful electrolysis I had was turned back, and an itchy, uncomfortable beard area began to develop. I became more aggressive and often just plain angry. I started headbutting the wall when I became frustrated, which was frequently. Some of my symptoms did subside a bit, but the anxiety monster was now not only stronger but struck with added venom, which I had no hope of “outtoughing.”

I knew this plan was not working; the new changes were working against me more than they could ever help. So, once again, I stopped.

I was soon sicker than ever, maybe even more so. My anxiety was arguably worse, and now my paper skin had hair on it, which just felt repulsive. My nails dried and broke, and my joints seized up for no reason. My hips were so bad that I could barely lean over to pick something up off the floor. I was back to dying.

“So this is it,” I thought to myself. I had traveled the road of gender and found a short time of peace and self-acceptance, only to burn out in the end literally. So be it. I had a good run. I am ready to die…

But I didn’t die. Every day became more of a struggle; every day, the symptoms got worse, but every day, I woke up and had to get through.

I did end up getting help again for the anxiety. Soon, medicine and the most fantastic therapist ever known to humanity helped me beat back one of the monsters that had ground me under their heel. I began to suffer less.

Then I was diagnosed with ADHD. New medicine was prescribed, which helped lift the fog that dominated my tired brain all day, every day.

Soon, I was very nearly a functioning human being!

Then, I started looking at hormones again. It had been years since the whole testosterone incident, and it was clear that my body was still not getting what it needed.

My excellent therapist recommended a group that specialized in hormone treatment for trans people. Oh, wonder of wonders! Someone who specialized in trans care? And who could help ME???? Oh, joy of joys! I would have handed over the $2000, which represented my life savings, right then and there for such help.

Soon, I had an appointment, and before I knew it, I was walking out of the local pharmacy with a new estradiol prescription. Now, mind you, I made it plain that my intention was NOT to transition yet again; I just wanted to feel better and feel healthy if possible.

It’s been a month now since I took my first magic pill. Within the first few days, my brain woke up, and within a week, my skin began to clear and soften, and now it feels normal. I see colors in the world again and feel multiple emotions at the same time again. And this is just the beginning!

It’s interesting to observe that the testosterone did nothing to make my brain “click,” for lack of a better word, but the estradiol did within a week or two. Maybe there is something to the idea of gender being at least partially a physiologically brain-based thing.

So that’s a month on the “magic pill”; all I can say is that I look forward to the second one!

I am back, baby!