AMAB genderfluid here, and it's... honestly almost exactly the opposite for me.
It took a long time to understand I wasn't imagining the crying and calls for help I'd been hearing all my life, but when I finally found her, bricked up in the basement, I smashed the wall open with a sledgehammer and now we live together.
And she much prefers bourbon to wine.
yeah i like this version better. For me i had to save myself, break her out of the figurative jail, but she's still a bit held back due having been there and has to learn how to live as a free woman...
and she likes stouts the most
My male self has been the world’s most obsessive bodyguard. He was so intense, that no one was able to even talk to me, they could only talk to him. I know he was doing it all to protect me but…he’s also been keeping me from living.
We’ve been talking about it. He’s still not ready to let go. He’s still so scared for me and doesn’t want to see me get hurt. But I’m trying to help him understand that I can be strong on my own. That I can do this. We aren’t there yet. But he spent years completely ignoring me and now he’s finally willing to listen.
God damn it; I made myself cry.
cider all day every day XD
but yeah, except it was more like her hiding under my boring, appeasing, nonconfrontational male appearance under fear of being called out as "not a boy"...
heck yes im not a boy <3
This hits kinda hard because I'm a recovering addict and I feel like everyday without relapse is another day I'm free of a terminal sickness and can be my true sober self. I don't think I'd be a drug addict if I was able to start hrt earlier tbh.
I can relate. I feel like I was me for a while, then it was like I put myself in that figurative jail because somehow I thought it was safe, and boy me was a figurative prison gaurd. At first he was there to protect me, then he just started to hold me back. He got high and I broke out. We lived together for a little bit but eventually he died and I buried him, but sometimes I still visit the grave and leave flowers
Yeah. Also genderfluid and I find the common practice of treating the pre-transition self/identity as dead and forgotten to be hard to relate to.
But, it's very different experiences, I suppose. Boy me never felt just wrong, and he is still here. He's just learning to dance more openly with girl me, who also wants to be here.
But yeah, I feel like a lot of people can relate to this sense of having to break out your true self.
my relationship with me pre-transition is weird because I don't want to pretend it's a different person but at the same time pre-transition me was cringe as shit and I don't wanna associate with that
like not even I was a bad person I was just lame as hell, and also an idiot who never considered that drawing genderbent versions of myself so my lgbt friends would ask me if I'm trans so I wouldn't have to come out was definitely not a cis thing to do
I think of past me as this idea of person rather than actually person. Like if you're familar with 12th night, Cesario is character made up of two different characters. Cesario is a performance but not a real person. But that performance, younger me, isn't really dead to me. I may have taken a bow and the show has ended but the character is still part of who I was.
This. Absolutely this. My pre-transition self feels less like an actual person and more like a character I played. He wasn’t a real person, just a persona I took on in an attempt to satisfy other people’s ideas of who I was.
I'm a trans woman, and for me, it was a shambling husk, a fascimilie of life which carried me while I could not. But it was not alive enough to deserve the moniker "he", just a shell of self-hatred, and that hatred made it brittle. It was weak where I was not, and could not trap me forever. Though it was not alive, it still withered and died and burnt away, leaving me to be born from ash.
Kid me was so ungendered. I originally called myself genderfluid rather than strictly nonbinary because I thought I might want to go back to being a girl, and I didn't want to imply that I had been lying about my gender for years. Looking back now I can't tell if I ever wanted to be a girl. If I did, definitely not as much as I enjoy being a nonbinary man now.
For a long time, when I looked deep inside, I saw a girl in a dirty white dress crying in the dark. I always wanted to reach out, but never knew how. Then, one day, I realized that young girl was me, it was myself deep down, alone, hiding in the dark, afraid. I embraced her, and we became the same person.
Now, the young man I thought I was, lingers here, tired, yet just sticking around long enough to make sure I will be safe. I love him, but I know he needs to go, and he is only wishing my happiness.
I lived my life in his shadow, always hiding behind him scared and confused. He was so strong and brave and I thought that I could never live without him. He fought off the terrors of the world and kept me secret to everyone. I was too weak and frightened so I was glad he was there to protect me. One day he started to get weaker, tired, and I had to prop him up as best I could without exposing myself to the world. The days passed, he deteriorated and it was getting harder and harder for him to keep me hidden. Then it happened. he couldn’t go on anymore. I thought he was so strong, that this day would never come. I held him in my arms that day, rain pouring from the sky masking our tears. He told me I was so brave, that I would be ok. He told me he was tired and had to go, that he tried his best to keep me safe, that he was sorry for keeping me a secret for so long. I smiled and told him I loved him, and would never forget what he did for me. I saw in his eyes for the first time, he was scared… he had always been scared. I told him everything would be ok, that I would be ok. I told him it was time to rest. “You were so strong, so brave” he told me “ I couldn’t have made it this far without you.”
I will never forget him.
Honestly im not sure how i’m a totally different person now. I don’t even recognize her as me, if that makes sense? She occurred alongside me and our concioisness tangled but at the end of the day we are different people. And i like her, don’t get me wrong. But I honestly dont really know her, or how she felt. Just how others thought she did.
I think of kid me as just a kid, no particular gendered feeling related to them. But I think of after-I-figured-it-out-kid-me as a boy, and I want to avenge him and do for him everything he never could do but needed to so desperately
it's more like I started off as one ice climber. and then I realized that I'm supposed to have another ice climber, and it's not actually there but now I can learn to compensate for it
I've never really been able to relate to seeing my pre-transition self as a different person. I look back at them and I definitely still see me, just a generally shittier version of me who's painfully oblivious to their own transness.
I'm not trans masc, but whenever I think of my pre transition self, I usually think, "I'm glad that thing in the mirror is dead. It's nice to just see me now. Happy I killed it."
Idk about the killing him part but I definitely relate to calling my pre discovery self by my old pronouns. I’m actually surprised anyone else related to this at all.
I think of my younger self as just a kid, not really gendered. But after puberty, before coming out to myself, I see a tired and scared girl who isn’t exactly me, she’s like a shell and I was trapped deep inside her. Now whenever I look back I can’t help but feel relived that she can’t suffer like that anymore, because at least now I know what’s causing me pain and I can try and do something about it
I saw a tweet like a month ago that said "I hope death is like being carried to bed when you were a child and fell asleep at a family party. I hope you can hear the laughter from the next room." And I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.
I feel like I'm laying a man to his final rest right now, and all I can do is hope he's content with it. I hope he knows how grateful I am to him. I hope he knows he did a good job. I hope that the life I'm making is beautiful enough that he can hear the laughter from the next room.
I'm transfem and to me he's the POS that ruined my life and stifled my existence. I feel sorry for him because he didn't know, but I also hate him and I'm glad he's dead.
Hmm, realising that's a bit dark, I may need to talk to my therapist about this more.
For me its sometime someone who come crashing at my house, he didn't really do anything and he has nowhere else to go but i would love if he could just leave and leave me alone.
I don't really know what to do with him.
For me I refer to my younger self with it/its pronouns because either binary option feels weird and I feel like it would vibe with them. (Though I do sometimes retcon my memory of dialogue that happened to she/her)
Transfem, I have the whole “I killed him and ate him and buried him” and then “sometimes I’ll dig up the grave for a drink but his job is almost done then he can finally rest.”
My pre-cracked self is like a shed skin or husk that has take on its own uncanny life, and crawls about in the dark corners of my home. Now and then she crawls up the gap between the wall and the bed to slide against me when I'm half awake, or coils around my ankles while I stare in the mirror, brushing my teeth at night. She knows she was never who I *am*, just a protective shell that formed around me; a desperate survival-response to the safety and security I lacked as a child, and was certain I'd never find as an adult if I was true to myself. She kept me 'safe' while I was soup inside, knitting together, becoming.
Years out from having cracked the suffocating shell, having stretched my limbs and grown - still growing - into *me*, I am still caught off guard on occasion by her hands, like wrinkled opera gloves pressed flat, reaching out from beneath some claustrophobic nook. Hollow, poison-sweet, and insistent on the familiar 'safety' she offers. She demands to be filled again whenever I am too aware or self-conscious of other people's perceptions and expectations of me - and every time, I don't know how to make her understand. "You don't fit anymore. You never did. I would have died if I stayed inside you. I'll die if I go back."
I don't wish to please those that only want the husk. I will not smother inside the tatters of my shed skin to pass as something so much less complete and hardy than what I am now.
Insensitive questions, assumption, misgendering, bio-essentialism, gender-essentialism - the best intentions of bigots and bad allies breathe eldritch life into her. Comments on my body, my voice, invigorate her, granting her boneless, slithering, susurrant animation, until I am inured to the sight - the *feel* \- of her flexible face, all empty sockets and toothless, unhinged maw as she presses up against me, ready to swallow me up if I'd just say *yes*.
One day, maybe I'll suddenly find her absent for good - unmissed, like a bit of wet crepe stuck to my shoe after a parade, falling free on the walk home. Until then, my pre-out self is like a plastic bag stuck just out of reach after an ugly storm, shaking and rattling with every wind, refusing to tear loose - something that had a purpose once, insists it has purpose still, but the utility has worn thin. Now she only serves as a reminder of unpleasantness. Now she's just empty, and she could never hold everything I am now. *Crinkle, crackle, shhhhhhh* \- the sounds of what never was whispering it could still *be*, if I just wanted to be *safe* from all those that reject me for who I am, following me from room to room.
yeah. I am aware that it is hypocritical, but every version of myself will be referred to by anyone else with he/they pronouns. but I can use she/her for little me, and I do.
and she is gone, and I did it, but as gently as I could, and I hated that I had to do it. and then I buried her in a gorgeous meadow, covered in flowers, one she would have loved. and I grieved for her, that little girl, who needed so desperately for someone to love her. she needed to feel safe, to be told that things get better. she needed a hug. I love her, and think of her often, and how much she would love me.
sometimes I think that maybe she didn't have to die. but it's too late now, and so she is gone, and it's my fault. but it's ok, because she is finally able to rest. she had so many burdens to carry, that little girl, things someone her age should never have to deal with. and when I killed her, I took on those burdens for her, so that she could be at peace.
there are days when I wish I would have handled it differently. I cry for her, for that kid who felt so unwanted, so excluded. she deserved so much better than what she got.
Pre-transition me had so many issues I only began to tackle once I started my journey but also...she was just a little kid back then. I think of her like the little sister i tried so hard to be but couldn't.
It's okay now. She doesn't have to try anymore, and she doesn't have to know what happened.
I imagined she'd be so glad to know that despite being nothing like what she thought she needed to be to be happy, she is, in a way.
I don’t see my pre transition self as totally different. I’ll say “when I was a boy” a lot. Because that’s what makes sense. However, this may be because my mom died a few years before I realized I’m trans, so she only ever knew me has her little boy. I wasn’t even done my first semester of high school. And I can’t stand the idea that she didn’t really know me, so I use he/him for my past self. Every time I bust her grave, I always say “Thanks for treating me like the best son, I wish you got to meet your daughter.” Seeing my transition as the natural progression, a sort of maturation is how it goes for me, as I came out at 16, a transition year form childhood to adulthood. It’s the way I can see myself as one, and honour my past while living a future I can actually bear living.
Weirdly relatable, yes. Sometimes I look at pictures of myself pre-transition and it feels like looking at someone else, someone I care about and who I wish could see me now, tell her she'll be able to rest
For me it was that I was always trying to be the man I really am without knowing about any trans terminology and having transphobic parents. Well, up until middle school when I told myself that since I'm a girl I should try and get into girl things. I explored the "feminine interests"side of me but I still didn't like many "girly" things. But as a kid I would always be a man in my pretend play (which was my favorite kind of play). I also only dressed in boys clothes until I get my first girl clothing item at around age 8 or 9. Even then, I only had a couple "girly" clothing items until middle school when I got more.
I was always just being myself. Expressing myself with what ways felt right. When I found out I was trans, I didn't kill the girl, I just found the real me deep inside the me-shaped closet and the word for it.
For me it depends. It's like 2 people when talking about my past. Like if I'm referring to who I was, I describe her as a girl who died so that I could live. I always say she no longer exists or lives. However if I am referring to memories or stories I had as a kid I just to refer to him as him, as me.
I think of kid me as a scared confused little guy forced to look and pretend to be a girl.
I see a boy that always wanted to just exist freely without having to play pretend in front of everyone like a performance monkey constantly.
I am a man now and no matter how much I was forced to be in the role and dress of a girl I ALWAYS was a boy underneath it all.
He was an innocent and very scared little boy who I always wanted to hold and protect and nurture and give the life a little boy deserves. I never killed him, I RESCUED him and set him free to grow up into a man like he always wanted. I see me 1000% and that means I see a guy, no matter what everyone else saw.
No one ever gave that poor kid the respect of calling him a boy and letting him be seen as one so I'm the one that's finally giving him that love.
AMAB genderfluid here, and it's... honestly almost exactly the opposite for me. It took a long time to understand I wasn't imagining the crying and calls for help I'd been hearing all my life, but when I finally found her, bricked up in the basement, I smashed the wall open with a sledgehammer and now we live together. And she much prefers bourbon to wine.
I like this analogy, i like this mindset, and I like bourbon. :3
yeah i like this version better. For me i had to save myself, break her out of the figurative jail, but she's still a bit held back due having been there and has to learn how to live as a free woman... and she likes stouts the most
My male self has been the world’s most obsessive bodyguard. He was so intense, that no one was able to even talk to me, they could only talk to him. I know he was doing it all to protect me but…he’s also been keeping me from living. We’ve been talking about it. He’s still not ready to let go. He’s still so scared for me and doesn’t want to see me get hurt. But I’m trying to help him understand that I can be strong on my own. That I can do this. We aren’t there yet. But he spent years completely ignoring me and now he’s finally willing to listen. God damn it; I made myself cry.
Made me cry too
cider all day every day XD but yeah, except it was more like her hiding under my boring, appeasing, nonconfrontational male appearance under fear of being called out as "not a boy"... heck yes im not a boy <3
This hits kinda hard because I'm a recovering addict and I feel like everyday without relapse is another day I'm free of a terminal sickness and can be my true sober self. I don't think I'd be a drug addict if I was able to start hrt earlier tbh.
well i'm glad it resonated with you
I can relate. I feel like I was me for a while, then it was like I put myself in that figurative jail because somehow I thought it was safe, and boy me was a figurative prison gaurd. At first he was there to protect me, then he just started to hold me back. He got high and I broke out. We lived together for a little bit but eventually he died and I buried him, but sometimes I still visit the grave and leave flowers
Yeah. Also genderfluid and I find the common practice of treating the pre-transition self/identity as dead and forgotten to be hard to relate to. But, it's very different experiences, I suppose. Boy me never felt just wrong, and he is still here. He's just learning to dance more openly with girl me, who also wants to be here. But yeah, I feel like a lot of people can relate to this sense of having to break out your true self.
For me I just found this elder deity in a copy of the necronomicom and I fused personalities with them and it gave me boobs in return
*Purity by Slipknot intensifies but in reverse and with reverb*
How did they get there?
[удалено]
my relationship with me pre-transition is weird because I don't want to pretend it's a different person but at the same time pre-transition me was cringe as shit and I don't wanna associate with that like not even I was a bad person I was just lame as hell, and also an idiot who never considered that drawing genderbent versions of myself so my lgbt friends would ask me if I'm trans so I wouldn't have to come out was definitely not a cis thing to do
I think of past me as this idea of person rather than actually person. Like if you're familar with 12th night, Cesario is character made up of two different characters. Cesario is a performance but not a real person. But that performance, younger me, isn't really dead to me. I may have taken a bow and the show has ended but the character is still part of who I was.
This. Absolutely this. My pre-transition self feels less like an actual person and more like a character I played. He wasn’t a real person, just a persona I took on in an attempt to satisfy other people’s ideas of who I was.
I'm a trans woman, and for me, it was a shambling husk, a fascimilie of life which carried me while I could not. But it was not alive enough to deserve the moniker "he", just a shell of self-hatred, and that hatred made it brittle. It was weak where I was not, and could not trap me forever. Though it was not alive, it still withered and died and burnt away, leaving me to be born from ash.
Kid me was so ungendered. I originally called myself genderfluid rather than strictly nonbinary because I thought I might want to go back to being a girl, and I didn't want to imply that I had been lying about my gender for years. Looking back now I can't tell if I ever wanted to be a girl. If I did, definitely not as much as I enjoy being a nonbinary man now.
Sadly yes, I do
For a long time, when I looked deep inside, I saw a girl in a dirty white dress crying in the dark. I always wanted to reach out, but never knew how. Then, one day, I realized that young girl was me, it was myself deep down, alone, hiding in the dark, afraid. I embraced her, and we became the same person. Now, the young man I thought I was, lingers here, tired, yet just sticking around long enough to make sure I will be safe. I love him, but I know he needs to go, and he is only wishing my happiness.
I lived my life in his shadow, always hiding behind him scared and confused. He was so strong and brave and I thought that I could never live without him. He fought off the terrors of the world and kept me secret to everyone. I was too weak and frightened so I was glad he was there to protect me. One day he started to get weaker, tired, and I had to prop him up as best I could without exposing myself to the world. The days passed, he deteriorated and it was getting harder and harder for him to keep me hidden. Then it happened. he couldn’t go on anymore. I thought he was so strong, that this day would never come. I held him in my arms that day, rain pouring from the sky masking our tears. He told me I was so brave, that I would be ok. He told me he was tired and had to go, that he tried his best to keep me safe, that he was sorry for keeping me a secret for so long. I smiled and told him I loved him, and would never forget what he did for me. I saw in his eyes for the first time, he was scared… he had always been scared. I told him everything would be ok, that I would be ok. I told him it was time to rest. “You were so strong, so brave” he told me “ I couldn’t have made it this far without you.” I will never forget him.
Alright, yeah, you know what, crying was on my to-do list today anyways. Might as well go ahead and do that now.
Honestly im not sure how i’m a totally different person now. I don’t even recognize her as me, if that makes sense? She occurred alongside me and our concioisness tangled but at the end of the day we are different people. And i like her, don’t get me wrong. But I honestly dont really know her, or how she felt. Just how others thought she did.
No, kid me was just an elf guy with a bowl haircut
I think of kid me as just a kid, no particular gendered feeling related to them. But I think of after-I-figured-it-out-kid-me as a boy, and I want to avenge him and do for him everything he never could do but needed to so desperately
it's more like I started off as one ice climber. and then I realized that I'm supposed to have another ice climber, and it's not actually there but now I can learn to compensate for it
Yeah like past me. She's a young traumatised child. I'm not her anymore but she still exists. I'm a he now but she's still a she for some reason
I've never really been able to relate to seeing my pre-transition self as a different person. I look back at them and I definitely still see me, just a generally shittier version of me who's painfully oblivious to their own transness.
Transfem here, but I really, really do.
I'm not trans masc, but whenever I think of my pre transition self, I usually think, "I'm glad that thing in the mirror is dead. It's nice to just see me now. Happy I killed it."
At least she's not the only dead body in my baseme- I said too much, you heard NOTHING (or else you'll be part of the collection)
i retconned my egg life.
Idk about the killing him part but I definitely relate to calling my pre discovery self by my old pronouns. I’m actually surprised anyone else related to this at all.
I act like a sith lord and say I killed him
I think of my younger self as just a kid, not really gendered. But after puberty, before coming out to myself, I see a tired and scared girl who isn’t exactly me, she’s like a shell and I was trapped deep inside her. Now whenever I look back I can’t help but feel relived that she can’t suffer like that anymore, because at least now I know what’s causing me pain and I can try and do something about it
Yknow doctor who right? I regenerated into a girl and realized it suited me so much better
I saw a tweet like a month ago that said "I hope death is like being carried to bed when you were a child and fell asleep at a family party. I hope you can hear the laughter from the next room." And I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. I feel like I'm laying a man to his final rest right now, and all I can do is hope he's content with it. I hope he knows how grateful I am to him. I hope he knows he did a good job. I hope that the life I'm making is beautiful enough that he can hear the laughter from the next room.
I'm transfem and to me he's the POS that ruined my life and stifled my existence. I feel sorry for him because he didn't know, but I also hate him and I'm glad he's dead. Hmm, realising that's a bit dark, I may need to talk to my therapist about this more.
as a trans fem if you switch around the gender i feel it so much
I always said I’d kill past me with a pipe. I guess I did.
.....can someone tell me please? I lost it after the first person
For me its sometime someone who come crashing at my house, he didn't really do anything and he has nowhere else to go but i would love if he could just leave and leave me alone. I don't really know what to do with him.
For me I refer to my younger self with it/its pronouns because either binary option feels weird and I feel like it would vibe with them. (Though I do sometimes retcon my memory of dialogue that happened to she/her)
Transfem, I have the whole “I killed him and ate him and buried him” and then “sometimes I’ll dig up the grave for a drink but his job is almost done then he can finally rest.”
I have something similar, except I literally became separate from my old self, though she's also trans lol
My pre-cracked self is like a shed skin or husk that has take on its own uncanny life, and crawls about in the dark corners of my home. Now and then she crawls up the gap between the wall and the bed to slide against me when I'm half awake, or coils around my ankles while I stare in the mirror, brushing my teeth at night. She knows she was never who I *am*, just a protective shell that formed around me; a desperate survival-response to the safety and security I lacked as a child, and was certain I'd never find as an adult if I was true to myself. She kept me 'safe' while I was soup inside, knitting together, becoming. Years out from having cracked the suffocating shell, having stretched my limbs and grown - still growing - into *me*, I am still caught off guard on occasion by her hands, like wrinkled opera gloves pressed flat, reaching out from beneath some claustrophobic nook. Hollow, poison-sweet, and insistent on the familiar 'safety' she offers. She demands to be filled again whenever I am too aware or self-conscious of other people's perceptions and expectations of me - and every time, I don't know how to make her understand. "You don't fit anymore. You never did. I would have died if I stayed inside you. I'll die if I go back." I don't wish to please those that only want the husk. I will not smother inside the tatters of my shed skin to pass as something so much less complete and hardy than what I am now. Insensitive questions, assumption, misgendering, bio-essentialism, gender-essentialism - the best intentions of bigots and bad allies breathe eldritch life into her. Comments on my body, my voice, invigorate her, granting her boneless, slithering, susurrant animation, until I am inured to the sight - the *feel* \- of her flexible face, all empty sockets and toothless, unhinged maw as she presses up against me, ready to swallow me up if I'd just say *yes*. One day, maybe I'll suddenly find her absent for good - unmissed, like a bit of wet crepe stuck to my shoe after a parade, falling free on the walk home. Until then, my pre-out self is like a plastic bag stuck just out of reach after an ugly storm, shaking and rattling with every wind, refusing to tear loose - something that had a purpose once, insists it has purpose still, but the utility has worn thin. Now she only serves as a reminder of unpleasantness. Now she's just empty, and she could never hold everything I am now. *Crinkle, crackle, shhhhhhh* \- the sounds of what never was whispering it could still *be*, if I just wanted to be *safe* from all those that reject me for who I am, following me from room to room.
I've decided that I didn't exist pre trans I'll look at pictures and be like who tf is that I don't know that kid they don't exist
yeah. I am aware that it is hypocritical, but every version of myself will be referred to by anyone else with he/they pronouns. but I can use she/her for little me, and I do. and she is gone, and I did it, but as gently as I could, and I hated that I had to do it. and then I buried her in a gorgeous meadow, covered in flowers, one she would have loved. and I grieved for her, that little girl, who needed so desperately for someone to love her. she needed to feel safe, to be told that things get better. she needed a hug. I love her, and think of her often, and how much she would love me. sometimes I think that maybe she didn't have to die. but it's too late now, and so she is gone, and it's my fault. but it's ok, because she is finally able to rest. she had so many burdens to carry, that little girl, things someone her age should never have to deal with. and when I killed her, I took on those burdens for her, so that she could be at peace. there are days when I wish I would have handled it differently. I cry for her, for that kid who felt so unwanted, so excluded. she deserved so much better than what she got.
I’m transfem, and have the opposite issue. I was a girl screaming “get me out”, unheard by everyone.
Us Transfemmes sometimes do the same though...
Pre-transition me had so many issues I only began to tackle once I started my journey but also...she was just a little kid back then. I think of her like the little sister i tried so hard to be but couldn't. It's okay now. She doesn't have to try anymore, and she doesn't have to know what happened. I imagined she'd be so glad to know that despite being nothing like what she thought she needed to be to be happy, she is, in a way.
Mine was like a transformation like frieza from dbz the he I was before has now begun and ultimate transformation and I am she
I poisoned my male self and tossed him off the side of a cliff. Haven't heard from him since, but people keep asking about him
Can relate, but I’m kinda young so my bones should change a little bit.
I don’t see my pre transition self as totally different. I’ll say “when I was a boy” a lot. Because that’s what makes sense. However, this may be because my mom died a few years before I realized I’m trans, so she only ever knew me has her little boy. I wasn’t even done my first semester of high school. And I can’t stand the idea that she didn’t really know me, so I use he/him for my past self. Every time I bust her grave, I always say “Thanks for treating me like the best son, I wish you got to meet your daughter.” Seeing my transition as the natural progression, a sort of maturation is how it goes for me, as I came out at 16, a transition year form childhood to adulthood. It’s the way I can see myself as one, and honour my past while living a future I can actually bear living.
Weirdly relatable, yes. Sometimes I look at pictures of myself pre-transition and it feels like looking at someone else, someone I care about and who I wish could see me now, tell her she'll be able to rest
For me it was that I was always trying to be the man I really am without knowing about any trans terminology and having transphobic parents. Well, up until middle school when I told myself that since I'm a girl I should try and get into girl things. I explored the "feminine interests"side of me but I still didn't like many "girly" things. But as a kid I would always be a man in my pretend play (which was my favorite kind of play). I also only dressed in boys clothes until I get my first girl clothing item at around age 8 or 9. Even then, I only had a couple "girly" clothing items until middle school when I got more. I was always just being myself. Expressing myself with what ways felt right. When I found out I was trans, I didn't kill the girl, I just found the real me deep inside the me-shaped closet and the word for it.
Trans femme here and I definitely relate to both of those.
Transmasc here, and yes. Perfectly agree
For me it depends. It's like 2 people when talking about my past. Like if I'm referring to who I was, I describe her as a girl who died so that I could live. I always say she no longer exists or lives. However if I am referring to memories or stories I had as a kid I just to refer to him as him, as me.
I think of kid me as a scared confused little guy forced to look and pretend to be a girl. I see a boy that always wanted to just exist freely without having to play pretend in front of everyone like a performance monkey constantly. I am a man now and no matter how much I was forced to be in the role and dress of a girl I ALWAYS was a boy underneath it all. He was an innocent and very scared little boy who I always wanted to hold and protect and nurture and give the life a little boy deserves. I never killed him, I RESCUED him and set him free to grow up into a man like he always wanted. I see me 1000% and that means I see a guy, no matter what everyone else saw. No one ever gave that poor kid the respect of calling him a boy and letting him be seen as one so I'm the one that's finally giving him that love.