A time for firsts
The first time I put on a dress I was too young to really remember it, just that it felt like something I did as a normal thing. The first time I shaved my legs, cuts and grazes all, took forever, not realising that the shower was the best place to do it, but it felt right. First time kissing a girl, loving a woman, moving in with someone, breaking up, crying over my gender, waking up from surgery, feeling the back of my head knowing my hair was falling out… so many firsts each adding to my lived experience. It is hard to count all the first in my life, all those steps along my rainbow road, yet when you transition each first is something both savoured and yet forgotten in the flow of life. What is novel and scary often becomes mundane and workaday.
Out of all the personal milestones I cherish, my transition ones seem to have folded the most into the normality of it all. My personal experiences seem to flow from one into another, affirming that my innate understanding of myself was on point, and that my womanhood was something that just makes sense. I am a woman, no hesitation, no doubt, and each first I took built on that. The first time I used my name was something special, the first time someone said it without all my past baggage struck a resonance that is so very hard to convey, yet I have no idea where or when either of them occurred. Such is the way of life, that the most special affirming things become mundane and just part of who we are.
Fear is something that holds us all back, afraid that a mistake might ruin everything or end up disappointing. Yes, fear can be healthy when twinned with respect, but it also bottles up so much potential that could lead us in awesome directions. I had this last year when I applied for my PhD, this notion that somehow I would fall short of the mark, left adrift and uncertain. So, in typical me fashion I overcompensated by applying to six schools, two internships, and three jobs — I landed the last one I applied for, a contingency of a multitude of contingencies. Such is life, and for the first time in my life I got accepted onto a PhD programme that will stand in in good stead. My identity, my central perception of myself, has been humbled through the process, that no matter what vision I may have pivoting is always a good skill to learn and utilise.
This flows into my newfound sense of my womanhood in 2020, having to adjust to loosing all my hair and gaining a refreshed sense of who I am externally. Up until now my womanhood came easy, as natural as breathing. Now, I feel that I must forge myself anew, pivoting my sense of self in new directions that 18 months ago were mere thought exercises. The first time I shaved my head to expose the bald patches, the first time I stepped outside without a hat, the first time I sobbed uncontrollably over the thought of loosing my hair, the first time I looked hard in the mirror at this new me. All unexpected firsts, yet now it is beginning to feel like the new normal. A new me.
I think this is the crucial thing about life in that you will always be thrown curve balls. Being trans is no different, in that you will end up in a completely different place than when you started. My journey at its most personal and raw has taken me through so many dizzying firsts that were completely serendipitous that if I were to go back and tell 18-year-old me this is what you would achieve I would be in awe. Not that things have been perfect, and there are plenty of firsts I really wish I could have as zeros on life’s tally, but non-the-less, that callow youth would be in for many wonderful firsts that make the red marks all the better for having learned from.
If I could pick one first to experience over and over again, I would struggle to define one, for there are so many that I wish I stop and linger on. A sunrise over San Francisco bay, a sunset on Rochester Bridge, completing all the Witcher 3 and DLC, reading the last chapter of certain books, rewatching certain films, meeting a friend of the first time knowing our awesome history, I have led a rich and textured life. Yet, I think the first I would possibly go back and savour the most was waking up from my surgery in Thailand knowing for the first time that I was complete in every sense. It is impossible to convey the sense of serenity and euphoria I felt, possibly because I was still experiencing the epidural and morphine, but that first is one that has not faded or become mundane. Before was one version of me, and after are 12 years and counting of this woman who I have grown into.
There are so many firsts I wish I could share and talk about, so many moments that I wish I could linger in and fully appreciate. Yet, part of the bitter joy of life is that our paths are ever onwards. New firsts and lasts come our way, and it up to us to fully embrace each and every one. Nothing is ever set, there are always points which can switch in new and interesting directions. Such is both the joy and sadness of life.
