A Tale of Grief and Relief


I can´t describe what it feels like to finally be approved for top surgery. Previously, I was told that it could not be done, that I needed this permission and such approval, but I did it. I hung on like a desperate pit-bull and would not let go, even nearing utter emotional exhaustion. My stubbornness serves me well.

I fought for testosterone and I fought for this, every step of the way a battle between personal freedoms and institutional restrictions. I´m not done, considering that getting a hysterectomy is the next step in my endeavor, and considering that I have medical conditions which potentially make me a candidate for earlier hysterectomy.

The emotional roller-coasters and unrelenting perseverance that I needed to accomplish top surgery, however, have left me exhausted. The whole experience, coupled with two years of bad gender therapy experience, messed with me quite a bit. Thankfully, I now seem to have a “normal” gender therapist, who respects my boundaries.

Things are looking up and I have renewed hope that this thing might turn out okay after all. I can make it through this. At the same time, there is so much grief about the fact that I harmed myself, about nearing suicide several times, about the fact that the process was so devastating in its ability to make me re-live the powerlessness I did as a kid.

It´s become blindingly clear to me that this entire ordeal was about coming clean with my own past and learning to cast aside destructive dependencies on other people. Learning that I am my own man, that I need to go my own way, and forget about people who bring up the worst in me, no matter what the cost.

I was scared that going my own way would alienate me, and I was scared that I would end up losing, but here I am. The abused self that I carried around, along with many destructive habits, disintegrates with every victory – making way for a compassionate man, one who understands the sacrifices that she made for me.



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