Day 2: Therapy
And I babble.
I barely let her get in a word edgewise. Because it is such a relief to unburden myself for the first time. To admit that I am transgendered (“I accept!”).
I am emotional. I am happy. I am unburdened. Probably for the first time in my life.
The time flies by and the session nears its end. My favorite line? “Oh, you’re definitely transgendered.” But she also gently and kindly scolds me for self-medicating my hormone therapy (more on that later), and recommends I get my blood work checked (liver damage being the biggest danger).
I grudgingly agree, but ask for recommendations in NYC instead of home back in Maryland. New York just feels… friendlier. And don’t think I could come clean with my current doctor. At least not yet.
We agree to talk again in a week and I return to the elevator that suddenly doesn’t seem so sterile anymore.