And the Door Opens

I should have seen it coming; on some level I knew this would happen.

The cracking of my trans “egg” two years ago rekindled desires of my youth and set a framework for me to embrace a vital and feminine part of me. But given my hesitant (and some would say skittish) nature, I remained mostly a voyeur in this realm, voraciously reading tales of my trans siblings and basking in how their stories intermingled with my own. Tales of sadness, loss, victory, fulfillment, and euphoria. I applauded the positive and teared at the negative.

Introspection abound, I would take small steps to embrace some of the euphoria. Clothing became more gender neutral. The beard was gone. Hair cuts were no more, and pony tails became the norm. Listening was in; tolerating intolerance was out.

I came to terms with Nova, the name I gave the creative, passionate, and feminine part of me. The energy she gave made me so much happier and helped me be a better person. I lost weight, exercised more, worked less, started drawing art and playing the guitar. I was more mentally present for my family and several people commented how I looked 10 to 15 years younger. Even amid Covid, I had a couple really nice years.

Through all of this, the door, the transition to fully embrace the feminine, remained fully closed. Unlike many trans people who become depressed or disparate with the closed door, I found solace in that I was able to temperate Nova through small changes and elations, comfortably keeping that door closed. Such middle ground gave my life stability and kept me happy. I could be a man on the outside while being feminine on the inside. Or so I thought.

Alas my dream of balance toppled. Nova’s ideas and desires increased. I became more disparate with my given name and more taken with my changing appearance. Thoughts of transition danced in my mind at a concerning rate. And I started dreaming in color, splendid color, each time waking up with overwhelming euphoria and an unmistakable feeling of femininity. After the third consecutive night I raised the white flag and called a gender therapist.

Fearing I have unleashed something I cannot contain and shaking to my core, I confessed to my partner. EVERYTHING bubbled out in one sopping mess. The most vulnerable I’ve ever been. I feared this conversation, knowing the life-changing consequences that could occur.

But she was calm — surprisingly calm — and supportive. As if she already knew what I was dealing with, and was prepared for what I was going to say (I’m obviously not as stealth as I thought). She knew I was wrestling with something very deep, and was patient for me to let it out. She said she will be there for me regardless of where this path may end up. What a beautiful person.

The relief was immense. No more hiding and no more secrets. She was not giddy with the very real prospect of me being transgender, but she wasn’t upset or running away either.

Anxiety soon took over. The proverbial door was now open. I long knew my employer was progressive and I’m part of a very liberal church; with a supportive partner I have no more roadblocks to offer; the cosmos has called my bluff.

I‘m trepidatious about meeting with a therapist. I should be excited, but fear and uncertainty persist. I still cannot see myself as a trans woman / trans femme, but I can’t see myself as a regular man either. I intend to try for the hallowed in-between ground, but once the door is opened, can it truly be shut again?

To be continued.

-nova ❤️