It still breaks my heart that I grew up in a world in which being me was so inconceivable that I missed any chance of living the life I should have had for FORTY-SIX YEARS. I was robbed and it’s a hurt I’ll carry with me forever. Sometimes I don’t know how to countenance that.

There is some part of me that was broken somewhere along that way. Not all of me, and not enough to keep me from ever being happy. But something crucial. It broke and it doesn’t get fixed and that’s just how it is.

I mostly try to focus on the joys of being trans, but it’s important to focus on the grief sometimes as well. That pain is real and significant, and ignoring it won’t make it go away. It can define me, maybe make me stronger or more empathetic in some ways, but mostly it just is.

I do believe in silver linings and looking on the bright side. But I also think it’s ok for some things to just be bad and unfair. Not everything can be leavened and not everything needs to be. Sadness, grief, aching loss—they all have their place and don’t need to be redeemed.

Sometimes it’s enough to simply say “This is hard. This hurts.” And perhaps have someone near you to say, “I know. I understand.”