Something I’ve noticed these past few weeks, my memories of him are fading

no…. not of my ex boyfriend, that’s not the “him” that I’m referring to… although those memories are a lot less pervasive these days. He goes through my head at least once a day, probably more, but the thoughts don’t carry the same level of loss and pain as they did even a month ago

my memories of ever being a guy (or a reasonable hand-drawn facsimile of one) is what is fading

It’s weird, I’m in my 14th year at this job, the first 13.5 of which were as a guy, yet when I think back to things I did a couple of years ago, I don’t see him in those situations, even though I know it was him, I see me in my mind’s eye.

I recall last year walking up to the building, seeing my new reflection in the glass of the door before it automatically whisked open, and marveling at her, at me. Now on the other hand, I see that same reflection, and I have to actively remind myself that it wasn’t always this way. In fact it still hasn’t even been a year since it’s been this way

I often find myself saying “as a little girl” when reminiscing of my past…. yet I was never a little girl….. or was I?

It’s getting tough to tell

I’ve mentioned this to a few people and gotten the response of “well, yeah, you’ve always been *her*, regardless of the exterior”. You’re still the same person, you just…. shifted…. into yourself. As if my soul slid from one universe into a parallel one, where I’m a woman instead of a boy.

I think to my previous relationships, his previous relationships, and even there, in my mind’s eye, it’s Dawn with those women, not him. It can even come across as confusing, as if I have a contradiction, an impossibility in my personal recollections. “I used to date her for years…. but I’m not into chicks….. ooooh wait…. I used to be into them…. no!…. he used to be into them…. oh yeah, Dawn is new, whoops!”

I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have a beard, body hair, a flat chest, a raging libido, testosterone fueled anger. I’ve forgotten the sadness that I used to feel as I got ready in the morning, looking miserably at one t-shirt versus another, wishing I could put on that gorgeous skirt that I had just bought. Putting myself together in the morning still brings me joy, yet I forget that not so long ago, the same activity was fraught with sadness, depression, melancholy, like it was an indication that nothing was worthwhile in reality, or that the reality I inhabited was *wrong*.

Even when I see a bit of him as I step out of the shower, my wet hair plastered back against my head, I still forget that my body used to be different. My chest, my hips, my legs, my waist, my ass, it’s as if I’ve always had these, and that my previous life was just a weird dream that I’ve finally woken up from.

When I remind myself that *I* am still new, still going through puberty, still changing, I’m surprised. I know that I’m trans, I know that I’ve transitioned, I know that I’m not a cis woman, a “regular” woman, but when I don’t focus on it, it feels like this is all something that happened a long long time ago (in a galaxy far far away**). This is something I have to remind myself of surprisingly often, when I’m down, when I feel overwhelmed, when I feel that I’m not going anywhere, I force myself to stop, sit, and remember all the countless stuff that I’ve been through in the recent past, and that it hasn’t even been a year yet that Dawn has truly existed!.

at least existed for the outside world……

…. cause yeah…. I have always been *her*

been me


** I swear this is a Spaceballs reference, not Star Wars!!!

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