HRT day 17.

I always wanted to be more social. I cared about people, wanted to know them more deeply, and wanted them to know me. I just never enjoyed the experience because I felt that the time people spent on me was an arduous act of charity that they endured for my sake, out of politeness and perhaps pity. I therefore kept to myself, unintentionally presented a pretty hard exterior that made me seem abrasive and antisocial, and spent nights wishing I could be closer to people around me. I was ashamed of who I was, and ultimately faded out of the lives of everyone I met sooner or later, once I felt I’d revealed too much of myself to put them through any more. It was lonely, and worst of all, many of these people continued trying to reach out while I sequestered myself and waited for the guilt to subside.

Short of growing breasts and marked shifts in fat distribution that I likely won’t see for many months, I can never be sure what’s an estrogen thing, what’s a placebo thing, and what’s just a good mood, but the last few days have been an unprecedented shift in my overall outlook. I talk honestly with people. I opened up to my mother about deeply personal things that I’ve kept guarded for decades. I message people just to ask if they’re doing okay and if they want to catch up over coffee some time, and without even cringing at myself for doing so.

Today I’ve been thinking a lot about how remarkable it is to simply feel like I’m allowed to exist in the world, and allowed to be part of other people’s lives. This isn’t me. Except it is, and I hope it stays this way forever.