My 20s came and went as fast as a guy from Tinder whose name I can’t remember. I thought I would have it all figured out by now, but there’s still so much I don’t understand. Like what does having “steez” mean, and is it a good thing or a bad thing? All I know is that I am getting older, and it’s scary as hell.
Turning 30 as a trans woman comes with a lot of rational fears about the future. Will my body age like a male? Will my hair growth after all these years be for nothing if something ends up making me lose hair anyway? Will my breasts ever get bigger, or am I stuck with these A, sometimes B on a good day, cups? Will trans people younger than me have it easier than I did, or is history going to repeat itself? I don’t have the answers to any of these questions, and that terrifies me. It is scary to think that the progress that has been made could eventually fade away.
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What’s often missing from the conversation about aging and trans people is the regret and sadness from those of us who start our transition a bit later in life. I began mine at 22. I have only been living as Kristina for eight years, only eight, and yet already I’m 30. I feel like I’m trapped in some new iteration of Benjamin Button.
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Trans people often have to navigate this world without any help. Before we know it, we’re thrown in and we can’t get those previous years back. It’s funny. When I was younger I felt older, and now that I’m older, I feel younger.
There are many parts of my life before 22 that feel hazy and dreamlike. When I think back, it feels like I wasn’t even there, or like I was distant and constantly distracted. I didn’t get to experience what most young people did. I didn’t have a high school sweetheart that I was madly in love with, I didn’t go to my senior prom or have senior photos taken, I didn’t apply for colleges or work hard because I didn’t want my successes to be attributed to my former self. Every day just felt the same; I had no breath of life.
I have felt more alive in these past eight years than I ever did in those 22, but I still can’t help but feel remorse for a lot of that time that now feels wasted. I used my mid- and late 20s to experience much of what I missed – from experiencing sex for the first time with someone I loved, to going back to school, to making lasting friends, and finally finding an outlet for my creativity. I am thankful that I was able to begin this journey when I did, as I know there are plenty of trans people who don’t have that opportunity until much later, if at all.
But as I made memories and experienced so much for the first time, I also missed out on establishing closer connections with those who were already in my life. My stepfather passed away on New Years Day last year, and I often think about how I would have liked to talk more with him as Kristina. He had been in my life for over 15 years, and it saddens me that we didn’t get to establish a father/daughter bond.
Aging while trans is complicated. Even though I am getting to live what is essentially a new life, everyone else around me is still also getting older, and it’s difficult for me to grasp. I don’t feel 30; I still feel like I am in my early 20s, and part of me expects everyone I love to be put on pause.
The only part of my transition that I regret is not identifying and understanding it sooner so I could have started living my life earlier. It makes me furious that younger trans people are facing legislation against them that would prevent that from happening. It could avoid so much heartache.
Now that I’m 30, I have also been thinking about how I would navigate the dating scene if my partner and I were ever to separate. Dating is already impossibly difficult, and throwing being 30 and trans into the mix feels like a recipe for loneliness. I’ve only ever been in three relationships, so the chances of another one feel pretty slim. What will make it even harder is the current anti-trans climate perpetuated by far-right extremists. How we can expect to find love when people are calling us degenerate and doing everything they possibly can to make us come across as wicked?
When I was younger, I was much heavier than I am today. I used food to cope with a lot of my distress. At one point, I was almost 300 pounds. I knew I needed to make changes, and thankfully, hormones helped greatly with losing weight. I fear that weight may come back, and I fear that it will make me appear how I looked pre-transition. When it comes to diet and exercise, I’ve always felt like I have had to try harder than all the other women around me, and now that I have reached 30, I’ll likely have to try even harder. I’m tired.
Getting older frightens me, but I know I am in a better place now than I ever have been. Whatever may come, I will take it in stride.
Here’s to another 30 and more.
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