The Early Realisation

Coming out as gay in my twenties was a big enough upheaval on its own! However, there was always a sense that something still wasn’t quite right. Something about myself that didn’t feel like I quite belonged in my own skin – something that I wasn’t ready to own yet.

Physically I never felt quite right. There was a big conflict within me waiting to explode out and rewrite my life.

There were a few clues as to what it was:

Puberty. Some people look forward to puberty and enjoy their body changing from child to adult. I did not. Many things changed that I did not like.

Voice. My voice broke and I resisted it. I made a conscious effort not to let it deepen. My brother’s and my dad’s voices give me some idea what mine would have been like if I’d not fought against it.

Body and facial hair. I have always been fascinated by it and love it on other people. I have a confused relationship with it on myself, I like it in some places, yet hate it in others.

Genital configuration. As I child, my penis didn’t interest me much, but it was there and never bothered me. My testicles I was completely unconscious of until puberty caused the bloody things to get big and drop.

Some people hate puberty because it means growing up. I hated puberty because it made me someone I didn’t want to be.

I never felt adequate as a man. I wasn’t assertive enough, neither was I physically strong. I felt that I had to try to do something about it. Gym became a focus. I did develop some muscle and bulk up a little, and the custard around my waist reduced, which gave me a slightly more pleasing silhouette.

See? It’s all very confusing.

I never liked being skinny. That kind of androgyny doesn’t appeal to me. I don’t like being curvaceous. That kind of femininity doesn’t appeal to me. I wouldn’t want to be hugely muscular. That kind of masculinity is attractive in others, but less so in myself.

I had this real confused relationship with my gender and my body. Afraid of how I felt about myself, unable to find the words to describe my feelings.

My brain – clever little monster that it is – found ways to survive. Emasculation fantasies, intrusive thoughts, dissociation. Anything to help make sense of a body that felt like a prank. It seems that such things are quite common for fellows like me: abnegating one’s masculinity goes against the some of the strongest taboos in our society.

It didn’t feel like I had a gender identity crisis. It felt like I was constantly out of alignment – like my skin had its own agenda, and I’d never been consulted.

The Crisis & Turning Point

Perhaps I should give a quick explanation of dysphoria.

The sense of dysphoria wasn’t constant. Usually, it was just under my psychic radar, but stress could send it off the scale faster than a drag queen’s lash-beat.

Dysphoria intensifies, culminates in harm, and leads to surgery.

Dysphoria is a deep sense of discomfort or distress, often related to one’s gender identity not aligning with their body or how they’re perceived. Dysmorphia (specifically body dysmorphic disorder) is a preoccupation with perceived physical flaws, which may be minor or not observable to others – it’s about appearance rather than identity.

Or, to put it cheekily:

Dysphoria says, “This isn’t me,” while dysmorphia says, “This shouldn’t look like me.”

Dysphoria had me self-harming, sometimes it got pretty serious and on one occasion it landed me in hospital after taking a “viable overdose” (ie it would have killed me if my husband had not found me).

The Affirmation & Understanding

I had identity affirming surgery in February 2024 – any doubts that I had that surgery was the right move have long since gone: my dysphoria is dead and I have a sense of peace in my own body that I have never known before. It was a sense of quiet that I had never known before – I fitted into my body.

Like many people in my specific situation (ie not a standard trans identity), the exploration of gender identity didn’t really begin until my body and mind were in alignment.

My husband had given me a head-start by saying “I suppose you’re non-binary” when I first started sharing how I felt about my body with him.

Non-binary fits.

My understanding started with realising that I am not female, but I’m not fully male.

It grew as I read around the subject of gender and realised just what a fudge it is. I learnt what “social construct” and realised that was what “gender” was and why it didn’t feel as though the narrow definitions of male and female just didn’t quite fit.