A few months ago, I met my first and last meeting with a psychiatrist who explained that I do not have severe chronic depression but should place more focus on a motif in our session, so to speak: gender dysphoria. However, that was a new nightmare that my feelings could only be resolved by taking more consequences outside pills and therapy. I can hide antidepressants and therapy, but I can’t hide hormone replacement therapy and wardrobe changes. Meanwhile, there’s the ticking clock; people like to say that we have all time to decide and act, but time changes us and there are regrets that accompany unpleasant changes, regrets that blossom as I still decide whether gender dysphoria is still a problem for me.
Someday, I want to be the me that I would like to be: someone who can stream through days without a sense of worthlessness or self-loathing. Someone who knows what they want and doesn’t feel the need to be bleak or lost at their daily pity parties. I am not sure (or in deep denial) of who I want to be in a few years, but I am sure that college will push me towards where I belong. I am not a believer of ‘destiny’ or a deity’s ‘Grand Plan’, but somehow I know that I am going to be okay. And just that word, “Someday”, can bolster a sense of hope that can get someone through the day.
Sure, I am not at “Someday” yet, but I have lost some weight as I wanted, taken the step towards counseling, and have worked out few personal problems. And that’s okay for now, I think.