On Transition and Fear of Regret

I recently hit 1 year of being on testosterone. It's a big milestone, one which countless trans people have documented in various ways on the internet (and for good reason, it's extremely exciting.) What I feel more compelled to talk about, however, is the flip side of this excitement: the accompanying paranoia that one will later regret their transition. I have experienced this fear every step of the way. Even now, almost a decade since the start of my social transition and 4 years into my medical one, I still have it. 

There is so much shame imbedded into the experience of being transgender. We are constantly inundated with the message that  trans and gender diverse people are immoral, deranged, disgusting, or at the very least, inconvenient. These voices are so egregiously hateful that they are easier to shut out, eventually. 

The far more insidious (and often even well-meaning) voices insist that they are fine with trans people, but that you just aren't one of them. They will find any other explanation for your desire to transition other than it being a necessity and true part of your identity. 

Some variations of what I have heard, over the years, either directly or indirectly:

You’re just jealous of your brothers

You must have been sexually assaulted

You didn't seem trans as a kid

You're perverted

You're just clinging to youth

You're ashamed of being a masculine woman

You're ashamed of being a lesbian

You're attention-seeking

If you were really trans, you would be more certain

This is from people who, in many cases, are woefully under-educated about the trans community. Their confusion, though extremely detrimental, is also to some degree understandable. 

The same questioning also comes, however, from the "experts." When doing my mandated sessions with the psychologist at the VU in order to be approved to start testosterone, she asked:

Are you sure you aren't just autistic?

Why are you only just realizing this so late?

Why did you grow your hair long as a teenager? Why did you wear dresses?

You sound confused, why did you go from identifying as nonbinary to male?

Are you sure you aren't attracted to women? Why not?

Why don't you want bottom surgery? Why don't you experience more dysphoria?

What will your family think of your transition? Your friends?

Why aren't you more certain?

It was clear that her job was not to support and validate (and sure, to gently push back and explore as needed,) but rather to grill and exploit any possible alternative explanation. 

Under these circumstances, doubt festers, unexpressed. If it is eventually spoken aloud, there are consequences. Trans people are repeatedly questioned, poked, and prodded for any crack in their conviction, then punished in a "gotcha!" moment the second they waver. (Incidentally, the same people will then tell you how amazing it is to "finally see the person emerging who was always there" once you actually start transitioning.) The same environment that sews doubt, subsequently punishes it. 

The effects of this are massive - it kept me living unhappily for far longer than I needed to. If your identity and sense of self are constantly up for public debate, it becomes nearly impossible to keep those voices external. They take root in your own subconscious, demanding attention. Throughout my teens and early 20's, I compulsively questioned and re-questioned my identity. I pored over accounts of de-transitioners, trying to find any warning signs I could possibly identify with. I went to many different therapists. I tortured myself through every single possibility other than the simplest: that I was trans. Even after coming to that conclusion, I still debated having top surgery for 5 years before finally going through with it. I debated testosterone for 8.

To be clear: I have never, for a second, actually regretted any part of transitioning. But I've had, at many times, a paralyzing obsession that I will regret it, in spite of the fact that fear has never come to fruition. 

Ultimately, the only way to move forward was to slowly build up more evidence in my favor. I have been correct about every step of my transition, from the very beginning. This gives me the self-assurance that is lacking from others.

I have also come to terms with the "worst case scenario:" that everyone was right, and I've truly made a mistake. If that turns out to be the case, so be it.  And then there is the more nuanced, middle-ground option: even if, somehow, my being trans was "caused" by some event or circumstance external to myself - does it really matter? I was completely non-functional pre-transition; the difference now is night and day. I am able to have a life that I absolutely would not have otherwise, no questions asked. I am positive of this. So, if transitioning is what gave me that, does it matter how I got to that place?

Transition is a story, and a method for self-actualization and understanding. That process is messy, and scary, even more so with the intense social and political climate currently surrounding trans people. In this kind of environment, doubt is inevitable. Once this is accepted, the fear is neutralized.