Writing yesterday's post “Am I transgender?” left me feeling incredibly confused and - to my great surprise - profoundly happy. Then I started reading: I read a few fellow bear blogs, especially lili's blog spoke to me, then I explored egg_irl on Reddit¹, and discovered Natalie Reed's essay “The Null HypotheCis”. I now realize I should have done much more reading much earlier - but I was afraid of myself, and some things just take their time².

When I woke up this morning, I felt all warm and fuzzy, and then I remembered that I was a woman in my dream. It felt so right! I can't remember the last time I had a similar experience. Today, I decided to go one step further. I want to say it out loud:

I am a woman.

It feels so good, it feels so warm, and it feels so... relieving? Yes, that is me! I am incredibly afraid of acting on it in the real world, though. I am barely able to get through the day without having depressive breakdowns, and I often lack energy to even brush my teeth. How could I ever be able to... grow?

But then it struck me: I am stressing about this way too much. I am who I am, and the only important thing is that I find a way of expressing myself that is comfortable for me. But how do I find that way, and how do I find it fast?

When I look in the mirror, I often see a stranger's face. I see a man with unpleasant facial hair and a shabby expression. I see someone who is unhappy, lonely, and exhausted. He is slim, almost skinny, and has a bad posture, as if he was carrying a heavy weight. I don't know this man and I feel no connection to him. I want him out of my sight. Then there's the issue of depression. When my depression is at its worst, I sometimes get so dissociated from myself that it triggers a panic attack when I see that stranger in the mirror, or when I feel an arm that is apparently mine but doesn't feel like it belongs to my body.

When I look in the mirror, I want to see a woman with beautiful dark hair, tucked neatly behind her ears. One strand of hair is braided, and hairpins hold some other unruly strands in their place. She is wearing earrings with tiny beads of clear glass, nothing extraordinary or flashy. She has a smile on her face, and you can see the little wrinkles it made. She is wearing a long dress with bright colors that fits tight and reveals a slender figure. On her hands she is wearing a single silver ring that clacks nicely on the handle when she opens a door. When she moves, it looks as if she was dancing, and her feet almost don't touch the ground. She is happy!

Why can't this be? Right now, I feel energetic, hopeful, and full of ideas. I could start dressing up in private, maybe find a way to get my hands on some properly “female” clothes. Why shouldn't I start sticking something in my hair? And who keeps me from wearing bright colors?

My realistic side tells me that I will neither have the energy nor the courage to do any of this at all. But that is a short-term assessment. I remember Chelsea Manning's ordeal when I was still in school, and how she carried on despite everything. She did the right thing, and she fought against everything to be herself.

In the long term, why shouldn't I also be able to be myself?

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1. Sadly, Reddit has become yet another toxic pile of hyper-capitalized compost. That is why I am not linking to the egg_irl forum, even though it turned out to be an extremely neat place for people like me. I am an egg, apparently, and my shell is seriously crumbling.↩

2. Reading also takes a lot of energy, and for me that is often too much - especially if I am afraid of upsetting my own little status quo by broadening my horizon.↩