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    When I was 15, I started testosterone blockers. It lasted about a year, and then, while moving in with my other set of parents, they were taken away. I didn’t feel much when I started them. It didn’t help the core issue that I was depressed, beyond the gender dysphoria. I didn’t feel much when they were taken. My new parents lied to me that I’d be back on them, and I think that false hope is the only thing that kept me going.
    I’m 17 now, I’ve been off any sort of HRT for a year. Their excuse every time I asked for it was that they were hesitant to give me something so permanent, they didn’t want me to regret changing my body. I’ve yearned for HRT for two years now, and one of those years was spent around family that was against it, so I think its safe to say those worries aren’t warrented. There is some sort of solace in that, knowing that the injustices that are done to me aren’t done because of me. That I’m an innocent victim, not deserving of this. But that’s only enough to take me out of the depressing dysphoria, and into the angry side, frustrated with this world.
    I’m using that energy to write this blog. It’s a little tragic, sitting here, frustrated, crying, typing away at this post. I didn’t expect this to be the context my first post would be born from. But I feel good about this. This blog, the website, my return to social media, and the evolution of how my dysphoria makes me feel, is all evident of the same thing, that I’m making some sort of tangible progress with this. These feelings aren’t keeping me down, I’m turning them into something productive, and I’m not keeping them down, I’m not ignoring them and staying stoic. I think there’s strength in letting emotions get to you. It’s not as strong, in my opinion, to keep this all down and ignore it, than it is to face the dysphoria head on, and to force your way through it. I’m writing this blog post to force my way through this. And hopefully, it’s conducive to helping any readers in need do the same.

    Dysphoria is a much more broad feeling than I used to think of it when I first realised I was trans. It’s more than just gender, it’s everything about the matches between your identity and your life, and it responds to your environment. When I’m talking to one of my girlfriends, who is also not on hrt, I feel fine. Very girly, infact! Same for when I’m coding, or for when I’m dancing around alone in my room with my skirt on. Because in those moments, I, outwardly, am exactly who I feel I am.
    It’s my adult friends who trigger the bad feelings. Yesterday one of them sent a picture of her and her two girlfriends holding hands. It emphasised to me the disconnect between my identity and my life. As much of a sapphic trans girl I am, I can’t just go see my partners. I can’t touch them yet. Today, it was my friends talking about the effects of HRT that got me, they’ve been on it for a little while. I, uh, did not take it well! Actually I just left the Discord server before I started writing this, but, um, I’ll deal with that after I finish it. It’s not just that this emphasises those disconnects, though. I think another side of dysphoria is feeling left out from the other queer people you believe should be similar to you. I abandoned my Fedi account, like, 10 times, because everyone else on there seems to be an independent adult! They can live exactly how they want, within the limits of society atleast, and I can’t.
    Nobody’s really figured out how to comfort me with those feelings. Pessimistically I could say it’s impossible. I promise this is going to get positive eventually! I think that this is a uniquely frustrating time for a transgender teenager to be living. There’s a terrible feeling that comes from suffering with dysphoria while you see the adults in your community so easily accessing a solution. And then, online, seeing stories of other children being provided HRT by their families. Wishing yours could have been that nice. It can feel very lonely.
    Not only this, but I’ve also worried about potentially having dysphoria I could never help. I’m an age regresser, and different ages have very different bodies. I won’t ever be able to match my identity physically if I feel younger. Or if I’m wanting to express my half-therian identity. I won’t be able to grow a tail to swish, or fox ears sprouting out of my hair.

    I’m still trying to fully heal from these feelings, but I’ve found some ways to help. I have a fictional foxgirl family that I think about for comfort when I feel sad that my true relatives haven’t been conducive to my identity. I’ve considered making comics about them, so I could think of it instead of remembering my real, unfortunate childhood. It would also allow me to imagine a reality where I was always the girl I wanted to be, not having to suffer dysphoria. The only problem, of course, is that these drawings wouldn’t be real. It seems obvious to me that reality should hold more weight than this ever would.
    I don’t think that’s necessarily true, though. To rephrase that thought, I could say that the drawn version of me wouldn’t be the real me. And that’s certainly not true! Who I am, and who any of us are, are our intents and thoughts. We are what we identify as. We are what would be the same about us, no matter the circumstances. I could be living with either of my pairs of parents, I could be living with my grandparents, or I could be living with strangers in a different country. No matter the situation, I am a trans girl. My name is Onyx, and purple is my favorite color. That is the “real me”, the part of me that is independent of the influence of my living situation. Whether I am a minor, stuck at home, yearning for my far away girlfriends, or an adult, living with them, waking up next to them in the morning, I am a sapphic trans girl, madly in love with them. That is me. And by this logic, a drawing of me isn’t separate, it’s not made up, it’s who I am in a different reality. But it stays true to my identity. It’s a real expression of who I am, just like my actions in real life are. Roleplays, writing, any sort of artistic expression, is of course an important expression of your identity in the same way.
    This line of thinking requires caution, of course. I used to not let myself feel things very strongly, and I know first-hand that that’s unhealthy. It’s important not to let yourself become too detached from reality through escapism. But not acknowledging expressions of identity outside of one’s physical body is obviously terrible for dysphoria.
    The best way I’ve found to deal with feelings of being alone, cast aside from other transgender people, or not allowed to be yourself while so many others are, is to let your mind, your feelings, your thoughts, and your words express who you are, and to think of your body not as the culmination of who you are, but a temporarily-unfitting vessel through which your true self can manifest. This can be an extremely helpful perspective, but of course, its easier to hold online. It becomes near impossible when people start talking about how they’ve been expressing themselves irl!
    When it comes to that, I don’t believe I’ve found a good way to get over it. I think it might be best to distance oneself from those kinds of conversations, if they become uncomfortable. But I also think the burden is somewhat on the friends who talk about those things, to comfort people who end up feeling dysphoric, to remind them that despite differences in circumstances, we are all going through this together.
    Because the feeling I get when I see my adult friends transitioning before me is that they’ve already crossed the finish line, and they don’t care that I’m scrambling to catch up. The feeling I get when people take HRT for granted, or joke about it, is that what used to be a struggle for everyone is no longer something that needs to be fought for, and the fight I put up is now irrelevant. That I’m not like all the other trans people, I’m only someone who unfortunately fell through the cracks. That I’m alone in this.
    I get the terrible feeling that when I finally start HRT, I won’t care. I won’t flaunt that date like a second birthday. And I won’t cry tears of joy when I swallow the first pill. I’ll open the bottle the second I can, gulp down more than the prescribed dose of estrogen, and think to myself only that this is too late. That even if I become the exact person I want to be, my life has been permanently affected, because my past will never change.
    But I can relate to other transgender people through my thoughts, when it comes to what we want, we’re very similar. I try to remind myself that it doesn’t matter how I feel on that day. Because I’ll know in my heart that my real past, and my real life, was always this way, always transfeminine. And this suffering, all of the dysphoria I’ll have to deal with, won’t hurt me any more. It’s a fight, and after the fight is over, I’ll head on as my true self, now prouder, because I’ll know I had the strength to do it.
    No matter how bleak or lonely things feel, this is what I need to remind myself of. I am part of this community, there is honor and strength in the fight I am fighting, and I am already who I want to be. I’ve already made something great from the cards I was dealt. I think this can help a lot of transgender people to keep in mind. When dysphoria hits, by feeling that disconnect from who you want to be, you are proving to yourself that you are them.

    Really, I think what I’ve learned from dealing with dysphoria, and from writing this blog post, is that the best way to make myself feel better and fight dysphoria is to express my identity in any way I can, and to remind myself that I’ve already done a great job of becoming the person I really am. Because when irl transitioning comes up, it can take up my entire mind, and it can feel like there’s no other way to be yourself. But my identity online, in writing, in art and everything else, is just as meaningful. When I feel frustrated by dysphoria next, I’m going to look at this blog post again. Not so I can reread my ideas on ways to feel better, but so I can see again just how much my identity has shown itself. Even if my body is not who I am, these words are, and this website is, and surely that counts for something!