Georgia night sticky in the air. The humidity hung on your skin like glue. I had just got my daughter in her bed. It was a long, tough day that was finally coming to an end. The barrage of misgendering from the general public, still being closeted at work, and the unpaid bills were stacking up everyday more and more. I waited till now to go to my room and break down. The tears streamed down my face as the depression takes a stronger hold of my neck like an invisible attacker strangling me slowly. I am worried I will never be accepted as a woman. That I will end up being called “Sir” until my brain finally explodes on the wall. What will happen when I come out at work? I cannot get fired; I support the household here. A million other worries piled on to the pubescent mountain of emotion. This emotional roller coaster is something I dreaded. It is the reason I spent an extra year in therapy to address the dark shadows creeping around my mind at night. Compounding depression with hormones was not something I wanted to do. Everything begins to consume me and I message Mandy for support.
“What if she goes through all of this falling more in love with me and I decide to date a man? How much more can she handle?”
Mandy is 1100 miles away at home. It was 28 degrees outside and snow still sat in the yard. She excused herself from watching TV with her teenage son and walked upstairs. She knew that when my moods get like this she couldn’t be half available. It was a terrible choice for her to have to make, spend coveted time with her teenage son or be the shoulder for me to cry on. She spends a majority of her energy trying to balance the two. On one hand she has her son to whom she is very close and on the other hand she has a girlfriend in need. She too is worried. She read about several instances of people on HRT changing sexual preferences in partners. What if she goes through all of this falling more in love with me and I decide to date a man? How much more can she handle? She already juggles two adult children, a full time job, and a long distance relationship. She needs someone to hold her just as much as I need someone to hold me. We talk till 1:00 am on a work night. The conversation ends with me crying to sleep while she comforts me.
Our lives are complicated enough without adding being transgender into the mix. Having each other’s support is the only way we have overcome our problems. We lean on each other and both of us know that we can be vulnerable with the other. We have faith that the other will lift us back up when we fall down.