Voice update: 23 March (day of top surgery chest reveal) vs. today (1 Year, 10 months and 10 days on testosterone).
They’re different to seeing myself in a mirror. The mirror is functional – do I have toothpaste on my face? am I having a decent hair day? how much has my beard grown? Selfies have an added dimension – a “this is me, as I am now, as a record of who I am becoming.” I’ve missed that. I’ve missed your becoming too.
So I’m tentatively back on Instagram (Facebook is just too violating and unsafe with its anger, ignorance and superficiality).
And it scares me to be back. What am I going to see by sharing me again? What are you going to see? But, I’m back because I am back – from a severe mental illness episode of 6 months that had me in shards; shards that I more than once held in my hand, contemplating ending myself with them.
I’m here to share the reassembling of myself, mostly with myself, so that I do it consciously; so that I know what works, what doesn’t; so that life doesn’t just happen to me; so that I have some agency and control amidst that which I can’t control.
So, long story short, I still feel the need to protect myself, but I’m here and HERE so that I don’t lose myself.
I’ve believed this for quite some time and great to have it explained so eloquently here: