Trans Joy After 40

I’ve talked some about the pain I felt as a closeted trans guy in the 90s and early aughts, so I figured I should share some of the joy too.

One thing I hated about myself in my previous life was how easily I cried. A sunset, a car commercial, a country song: I was a fountain. I had a lot of inner wounds that leaked constantly — grief, rejection, dysphoria, depression — and they’d come out of my eyes at the slightest provocation. Even worse, I’d cry when I was angry. (Really, what I hated was the immediate dismissal of my feelings once tears kicked in, but that’s another essay.)

After testosterone, the inner wound of dysphoria finally sealed over. I felt calm and steady. I had a couple of blissful years of emotional flatness before the tears came back — a beautiful flower, a majestic scene, a kind word, a smiling face. Now, I still cry at the sunset, but because of its beauty.

Now, I cry tears of joy.

The Joy of ‘Yes’

My early life was hard; it was a struggle and a half, but I didn’t start my transition at 47 because of pain. I did it because of the overwhelming joy I felt when I finally told myself: “yes, you are a man.”