Dear diary, I love being trans. This is part of my experience. ❤️
I accept this since this is where the truth constantly keeps going back to.
I didn't make the choice to be trans or not. The whole journey before this current moment made it so that the choice was natural, and obvious.
I am a trans woman. I am Alicia. And I take pride in it. This is actually me.
How is it possible for me to have a male body, but when I imagine myself in a place with zero judgment from others I always gravitate to a feminine body, that's how I see myself? With all of the body parts and traits associated with the feminine sex. Even if I imagine myself as male, I just feel tension, like my gut is closing, I stop feeling peaceful and start feeling some vigilance. And when this perception naturally somehow flows out to become female, it's like a burden has been lifted, my heart is opening, my gut is in line and agreeing.
It's just so obvious how all the signs interconnect.
Additional doubts are just so pointless.
I'm starting to realize just how much I like identifying with the feminine as of lately. I like having that long hair down to the chest. I like walking with my hips swaying. I just don't know why I wanted to get away so hard from this all in my past. Well, obviously it was some kind of self-denial.
But now, it feels like an avalanche that is starting to make a serious impact on my life. A thread has started to unroll and it is the culmination of many previous, recurring attempts in my life to explore the feminine. I kept being pulled towards it and, well, at this moment, it has reached the point of triggering body dysphoria that has replaced previous body ambivalence or a sense of alienation. No, now I can't look at myself and smile, seeing my flat chest and hairy legs and whatnot. I have gone to the feminine over and over again, because that's where my home is. I cannot be Alan anymore. I am not male anymore and I cannot return there. When I put on makeshift breasts onto my chest and looked at the mirror - I saw a happy, joyful woman, who I identified as myself. Not as Alicia, as in not as an abstract concept. It was not through the filter of a name, or a built identity. I saw myself in "breasts", and it clicked so well. The clothing wasn't even that feminine, but I had a female chest. And all hell broke loose. It just "clicked" somehow and the longer I stared at myself, the happier the got and the harder it was to keep my happiness. I couldn't stop my mouth from simply smiling. I never felt like this when I was just plain old male. This feminine self felt like me, shaped in a way that's deeply resonant.
Resonant in a very clear way - resonant with my self-image as a woman, as my intuition and imagination show me inexcusably and consistently.
Everything in my past led me to taking on more and more of an interest in the feminine, with every year going deeper and deeper. And the last 3 weeks made me feel so warm inside, so authentically fulfilled that save to say this is a historic moment in my life. I am no longer a man and I don't care about being one and looking as one, and presenting as one. I don't care what others will think - unlike last year when I was much more eager to self-doubt. Then I saw the light, but was overwhelmed. This year I saw the light and stayed there. I cannot go back. Like my intuition told me, I am to be stay by my feminine side - or rather, feminine self.
It can't get any more obvious than when I spontaneously imagine myself in a place where I can be authentically myself, and the body isn't male at all. My imagination automatically goes away from it. It isn't agender either. It is, in fact, female, with breasts, wider hips, vagina. That's me.
I really like to experiment with myself now, go all out into the feminine side of the world. I feel there are no barriers and it feels like my life is actually starting for good. Before there was a constant dissociation - the longer I stared at myself in the mirror, the much more I noticed how I don't see myself there exactly. Certainly not 100%. And not even 50%. Something was constantly off. It was like, well, going somewhere, but not quite; the melody was out of harmony and it was going full out, but somewhere I did not exactly relate to. I thought I wasn't masculine enough so I tried to 'Goggins' my way up to being a muscular man. Maybe I was too thin? But no, it was not a low self-esteem. It was something different. The male body was just the wrong fucking shape. I had no breasts, no nothing - and I felt the lack, even if I couldn't really identify it as a woman who was only going back to her home over time. And now it is when I realize just how hard this actually was, to stare at myself in the mirror. Because I just couldn't see myself. In retrospect it's so obvious how I was not comfortable with my male body - I didn't hate it, but I was dissociated from it. I may have admired the muscle, but only because others may have pointed it out. I didn't see myself authentically reflected in what being a male biologically means. Now after these wonderful experiences with my femininity am I starting to feel acute dysphoria, a concrete sense of how my body is actually off and both has things I don't like and doesn't have things I like. It was hard to go back after feeling how happy I was in my makeshift breasts - and how I felt I was returning to that "shithole" when I made my chest flat again. Once again I was back to the demons of my past because I was male, and not female. I felt that exact same tension over me, my face was getting tense again, I couldn't smile spontaneously at myself, unlike when I presented as a feminine self. Shit.
No wonder I felt so depressed in my last years, the tension in my face visible perhaps in every photo. Perhaps the reason I took so many selfies of myself repeatedly in one session was because I couldn't find the right person, the right presentation. Maybe it was the mimicry? Maybe the jawline? Maybe... no, you just couldn't connect that masculine self to your real, deeply held by the intuition, authentic self.
Today in the mirror, I saw myself as myself. The world literally became more colorful. Unlike the past years when I saw what others expected to see in me, without really seeing myself there, or seeing Alan as some alien, distant, abstract entity that aimed towards the masculine ideal, today I saw myself. No, it wasn't forced, or a facade, or a mask, or an approximation. It was my self that is congruent with a feminine gender expression. It was actually me! It took me maybe a minute to really take it in, but yesterday was the first session of presenting as feminine. Today was the second - and the euphoria properly hit this time. I was just so joyful, the longer I looked at myself, the more I smiled, the more I loved being the woman I presented myself as. It just all clicked so well.
I even felt sexy, I struck up a pose being confident in my body, even though I hadn't transitioned at all, I just put on tight jeans, a blue collared shirt and a makeshift female chest. I imagined I was exposing my feminine traits like hips, vagina, breasts, it was in line with me on a level I can't really describe at this moment, but it felt... resonant. Like home. I didn't get sexy over myself, not in a fetishitic way. I felt sexy rather just on my own: it was a matter of confidence and recognition of my female body. A female body of my own, not of anybody else's or of some secret woman inside of me. No, this was me, a woman, and God am I sexy as I am! This experience just felt so good that for the next 2 hours I couldn't get over the ecstasy I felt, seeing myself as female. The grief I felt when I had to take off those makeshift breasts... When I came back to the mirror, I saw the same shit, the same tension that has always been underlying me presentation for the last years. "I came back to this shithole again." And, yeah, it is a shithole. A cave. The light is the feminine.
And I love being a woman. ❤️ Even if it's not quite there yet physically. Internally, I just feel like it. My intution affirms it. My imagination affirms it. My heart and gut line up when I see myself as a woman; start to feel friction again when back to a man. Even my rationality notices how this is inevitably going in one direction, to one end.
I have regained the sense of my self. And I'm going to push it. It started awkwardly, as a supposedly 'alter ego' character on chat apps, talking as a woman. Then I presented as a woman on Roblox and concerned myself with clothing there. I felt oddly... comfortable, walking around as a woman figure. Last year I imagined what it was for me to be a woman. This year it has reached to my body and me wanting to have a vagina. Even in my darkest of phases I had the urge to imagine myself as a woman during sex, and I envied the opposite sex so hard I mistaked it for love. I didn't want to have her - I wanted to be her. The progress is clear, and the ending - inevitably wonderful.
So be it.
🏳️⚧️