The truth is, I was terrified.

One step closer.

To happiness.
To self respect.
To passing.
To becoming a man.

Yesterday was my first shot of testosterone. I cannot believe it. Not in the "oh it all happened so fast I can't believe it" kind of way, I mean actually cannot believe it. Three years of looking forward to this experience. Three years of waiting, wishing, hoping, anxiousness, self-hatred, nervousness, and then in less than 2 minutes it's done. And afterwards, my fear and doubt starting to run wild. What if this isn't what I want? What if my parents never understand? What if Sarah changes her mind about supporting me when I start going through puberty all over again?

Fear.

Of rejection.
Of not following through.
Of losing what I love.
Of being a burden to others.

No matter that 99% of my insides have been telling me for years that this is what I want, and to be excited, and I can do this, I let the 1% of me take over. I let it run me for almost a quarter of an hour. I think it's healthy that I still have that doubt. And I'm going to take some time getting past that 1%, but I can do it. I will do it.

Anyone who says they're not scared before their first treatment of hormones, is full of shit. It doesn't make you any less of a "man" to be afraid. It makes you human. It's going to be okay. Talk about your fear. Whether it's with a therapist, a good friend, or anonymous in a forum online. If you don't talk about it, and figure out where it is stemming from, you will NEVER get past it. This isn't a fear of spiders that can be overcome by just facing it and getting past it. This is a process that will take time, tears, and serious self reflection. But it's worth it.

Some people have asked me how I know that I'm trans, or what makes me want to go through with hormone therapy, or am I sure this is what I want. So I'm going to explain through the story of someone I met in Albany. Though her name escapes me now, her story will stay with me forever. We'll call her Jill.

Jill was born a man, and knew since she was very little that her sex was incorrect to her gender. Jill is (at the time I met her) in her mid 40s. She has never, never, told her family about being trans. She has lived two lives for her entire existence. During the week she is Jack, and works at an accounting office from 9-5, like an average man. On weeknights and weekends, however, she becomes Jill. She puts on a wig, fake nails, a dress, some heels, some makeup, and heads out as what feels more real to her than a check from her job in her hand. She explained this to me, and what I remember most was her eyes as she told me. They were not only filled with fear that her parents would find out, but with sadness. Sadness that she could never be herself full time. Sadness that she may never find a partner who understands her, and will support her in her life. She feared that her job would fire her, that her family would not accept her, and she would completely alone in the universe.

I never want to do that to myself. I never want to hide who I am. And hearing her story made me realize that that was exactly what I was doing. I was lying not only to myself, but to everyone I loved. So now I have vowed to change that. So I am ready to venture into the unknown, to do something I have never done (and that list is pretty short), and to take it in stride.

It's time to discover the diamond in the rough.