Exactly 3 years ago today, I came home from a friend’s thanksgiving party. We had a bunch of fun, good food, wine & some weed. An overall very pleasant evening. Except for the moment when we were getting ready to leave around midnight and our hostess proposed a “ladies’ night”.

I asked her if I could come as well but she just replied “it’s ladies' night!”. So I asked again and got the same answer. And again.

After the third time, I gave up, got dressed and left for home. It was late, I was sad and I was oh so tired.

By the time my partner and I got home, I was still feeling sad and frustrated. Not quite sure why, but bad enough to talk to her about it. So around 1 am we sat down on our bed and talked about why I felt like crying. Why I felt so horrible. Why I was so frustrated.

What followed were 4 hours of me crying, her crying, us desperately trying to figure out what the hell was going on & what we could do.

The end result was that I was finally able to give myself permission to think & even say something, that had been festering in me for decades.

That I DESPISED being a guy, that it made me sick to my stomach when people treated me in a gendered way, that I had always been jealous of girls and women, that I had always wished I hadn’t been born the way I was. That I was incredibly dysphoric and depressed.

These thoughts had always been there. I remember being jealous, I remember hating being a boy, I remember dressing up "as a girl" when I was 12 and being overcome by happiness. The desperate tears I cried every time my dad cut my hair back to 1/4".

The role playing games I played as a child, always focused on playing women, to the point where my friends got annoyed and stopped playing with me. Where I lost friends because they found me weird and I was making them uncomfortable.

That decision I made exactly three years ago, was the bravest, most life-affirming and most difficult thing I have ever done. What followed were months and months of being scared, anxious and full of doubt. Every step I took towards the real me, was so incredibly terrifying.

But I always knew what the right direction was. I never really felt disoriented. I had finally found a direction that made sense to me. Now I just had to learn how to progress, how to get to where I knew I needed to be. I didn't know where I would end up, but I knew where to go.

Looking back, I have no idea how I managed it. But I am infinitely thankful, that I had the chance to become myself and that I took it and held on to it for dear life. The person I have become feels so much more real than any sorry attempt at being a dude I had ever launched.

I cannot believe that I get to be myself now. Every fucking day. Just like that. How wild is that? How incredibly lucky am I?

I am genuinely happy in my body. It's not perfect, but it is pretty close and it is enough. I would have been non-binary no matter what, anyways.

I have learned so much about myself. And I have had the incredible opportunity to meet and befriend so many amazing, beautiful, inspiring people.

They helped me become who I am today and I will be forever grateful to them for it.

I love you

There is more, if you have the time. It's not quite as simple as it sounds above. I took some detours to get to that night and I would like to expand on those below:

That evening was the last drop in the bucket. I had felt like that every time there were gender segregated events for 25 years. But I never did anything about it. I just accepted it. I just nodded and left. I had just accepted that I was always going to be uncomfortable.

I had tried to come out once before. I knew what was happening, I knew I was trans. I even got so far as to tell two of the people I was closest to. "I think I am a trans woman". I will never forget the moment I said those words. But they got scared and I got scared.

I didn't have the support I needed, I felt like this was not something I could handle, this was not something I was strong enough for. So I took that knowledge and those feelings and I stuck them in a box, sealed it and buried it as deep as I possibly could.

I buried it so deeply, I completely *forgot* about it all. So deeply, I only remembered that moment when weeks after I had come out for the second time, one of the two people I had told, reminded me of that conversation that had happened almost two years earlier.

If you are anywhere along this journey, if you feel like some of what I wrote in the initial thread or in this one speaks to you, I want you to know that you are not alone. I want you to know that there is nothing wrong or weak about not being out, about not being loud and proud.

Give yourself the time you need. Be kind to yourself. This is incredibly hard and scary and we can't always face these things. Sometimes we first need to grow stronger.

If you want to come out, see how you can create a situation that will allow you to do so.

I used to be so incredibly disappointed in that old me who didn't come out when they could have. Who didn't make it happen earlier. Who just repressed & became even more depressed. Who stole years of me being myself from me.

I had to learn to be kind & understanding with them.

To forgive them for what they didn't do, for how they didn't take on things they weren't ready for. I had to accept that, just like I would never blame anyone else for not coming out when they weren't ready, I couldn't blame myself either.

My old self did everything they could to get me here. They are the one who got me to the point where I could come out and take over. It was incredibly hard to get there and they did their absolute best and I am grateful to them.