Usually, I don´t post pictures of myself on here, but I will make an exception. You cannot tell that it is me anyway; I´ve changed so much since the above moment, that people would not recognize me. Anyway, yeah. The above was my first skydive jump. I went static line, which means my chute immediately deployed as I fell.
In my quest to find out who the (offensive swearing) I was, I tried a lot of things. Skydiving was one of those things; I wanted to overcome, explore my horizons, and figure out what lay beyond. I explored the new-age hippie movement (basically woodstock 2.0), took flying lessons, and you know the rest.
I eventually found out what was missing from my life. As you know it was my own, unexpressed – and to some extent repressed – gender identity. When I finally found out, I mistakenly thought that I had reached the ultimate goal. More accurately, I did not understand that my goal was not an end-destination, barely a new beginning.
While testosterone re-aligned me with my true self, now more than ever I wanted to be free, to liberate myself from the 27 years in which I lived as a mere shadow of my potential. Despite the personal growth and the physical and mental changes that testosterone handed to me, my body gradually became harder to tolerate.
It´s this fight that I´m dancing with now, the challenge of living in a body belonging to the past, to some extent even feeling trapped in the past. I want nothing more than to break the chains and jump. It´s been much more difficult than I ever could have imagined. Impossible to tolerate, even. And yet I am doing it.
I have a hardheaded, non-negotiable, and hard-line drive to survive. While paradoxically this is the same drive that often makes me hurt myself, and sometimes drives me to the very edge, it might just be the factor that ultimately enables me to endure. Rather than hope, it is the cynical nay-sayer in me, that helps me get through this.