Was looking through an old hard drive today and I found some old pictures of me from before I transitioned. I only have a few of them because I didn’t like taking pictures of myself back then (hmm, I wonder why? /s). I thought about deleting them because I don’t like how I looked back then, but in a weird way they also made me happy. I think it is because they serve as a reminder as to how far I have come in the four years since I realized that I am trans. Comparing them with current pictures of myself, it is very obvious that I am much happier now.
I also found some old picrews that I made of myself shorty after I realized that I am trans. These made me really happy for multiple reasons. One is that they brought back a lot of memories. The other is helped me figure something out. I’ve been trying to figure out exactly when I had the realization and the best I had beforehand was sometime in late 2019, but those pictures are dated October 28th which makes them the earliest evidence of me being trans that I have. I made like thirty of them but here are two of them that I like.
Past me would be so happy to know that I actually look like this now:
This is an image that I think I used to come out to a few people. It’s hard to see, but I decided to add some estradiol to my mouth:
Anyways, I just felt like sharing. I’m curious if anyone else also used picrew at first to explore their gender. Also if you have any transition related stories you feel like sharing, I’d love to read those too.
I’m only 4 months on HRT, but before it I hated looking at old photos of myself. Now I find them…amusing? Like I know they’re me but they don’t feel like me, more like looking at some kind of lost brother xD Either way, even though I’m very early in transition I’m way more happier about how I look now :3
That’s like exactly how feel about my old pictures! I was going to put something like that in the post but I couldn’t figure out how to put it into words. :3
I was going to comment about deliberately playing as a woman in video games after some introspection, then I realized who made this post^^
Disclaimer: I don’t recommend DIY, there’s too many risks.
Well I’ve been a victim of gatekeeping. After a lot of consideration I decided to try hrt on my own for 3 weeks, to see if it would do anything mentally. It had a huge impact and that’s what gave me the courage to be patient again and to go look for help again.
And exactly on the day that my hrt ran out my crush came to visit. It was terrible because I was irritated and angry all the time and I even ended a friendship that day. To make things worse she had to write down my deadname and at some point she accidentally misgendered me. That really hurt because I trust her and she’s only known me as a woman. I’m not sure how I feel about her any more.
Yesterday I went to a lesbian party and I made so many connections. And I was able to see myself in the mirror again when I came home.
I’d also like to add that I’ve learned that a social transition includes transforming the connection with yourself. There’s this weird kind of transphobia in me. Do you know what I mean?
Yeah I get that last part. I had a lot of internalized transphobia at first, and it took me a long time to get rid of most of it. Sometimes it will still crop up when I’m trying to go to sleep which is really annoying.
Any tips?
Something my therapist taught me is to find evidence against my doubt. Sometimes the thought that I am not really a woman and that I should go back to being a guy will pop into my head, and then I remember how happy starting HRT and filing my name change paperwork made me, and it helps that thought go away pretty quickly.
It’s funny calling it evidence. I suppose that’s how we all figured it out.
I LOVE that second “coming out” picrew! 🤗
I may have to do one like that myself.
Also, I would say don’t delete anything, but I may also be a bit of a data hoarder 🤷♀️
Thanks! If I remember correctly, I made two separate picrews and used ms paint or something to put them in that arrangement lol.
Also, I already deleted some of them, but they were similar to the ones I decided to keep. I think I’m going to make a time capsule for myself with them.
I keep all my old photos, every once in a while I’ll be talking to someone about things and decide I want to see a chronically depressed cadaver go through the motions of… I don’t even really know what… just tons of pictures.
I got pictures of me blackout drunk staring disdainfully in a mirror, pictures of me trying to feign happiness in hundreds of locations at Disney World, pictures documenting the all day drinking and running through the woods at full bore on a 4 wheeler hoping I’d just smash my skull into a tree and die, the daily fire I would make when it was too dark to keep driving drunk through the woods and spend my nights getting more drunk hoping I’d pass out and get killed by wolves.
Sure, If it was life or death I could find a smile or a happy photo, but almost all of them are stoic at best and I’m going to keep them.
That poor fuck held on for something, and in his misery he gave me a life worth living, and for that he deserves his respect and honors. I cannot hate him or erase him. He hurt for so long, he wanted an undying death, and I myself gave him his wish.
Of course, you should do what is best for you, I just have been diving a bit too far into how the Ship of Theseus problem intersects with my identity and personality here lately and have decided I literally AM a different person and that’s okay and consistent with me being the same person I always was, just with less repression.
That poor fuck held on for something, and in his misery he gave me a life worth living, and for that he deserves his respect and honors. I cannot hate him or erase him. He hurt for so long, he wanted an undying death, and I myself gave him his wish.
This like completely describes how I feel about my old self. I was suicidal back then, and I guess in a way my old self did die, although I was reborn as the much happier person I am today. When I look at old pictures of myself I always have this thought of “oh you poor baby” and then I want to hug them and tell them everything will be alright, but of course it’s just a picture and I can’t actually do that.
I have this one picture of me from when I was like 13 or 14, and in this picture I have these terrible patchy mutton chops, an unkempt bowl cut, and the most depressed look ever on my face. I absolutely hate the way I look in the picture, but I kept it anyways because I love the poor fucker that’s in it.