klara[dot]nz

It's odd. I've been having an odd day. I'm odd. Every day is odd.

In the spirit of documenting HRT effects and scaring off readers who aren't committed to learning about trans (aH!) things, here's how things have been since I last checked in. I swapped doctors two more times, but have settled with someone that genuinely cares about patient wellbeing. With them I moved to gels, found administering 6 pumps too cumbersome and annoying to do reliably, and then moved to pills. So far they've been great (I'm on 6mg), and even though I procrastinated getting bloods for a year out of fear my levels would be terrible and I would be out of options (since I rejected patches through skin irritation and bad absorption), they ended up being alright.

Since then I've started on 100mg micronised progesterone daily via the oral route. I find this makes me dizzy some days about an hour afterwards, and I have been advised to take it at night to avoid the associated drowsiness.

If I planned to take my medication at night I know I would forget to take it so I just have it all in the mornings when I get up.

I think I have a cycle with an approx 2 (4?) week period, for the couple months I was tracking it. I suspected this a few months in, but never really got around to it. Today is one of those days when I realise my mood might be related to something like this - I had cramps yesterday and I just wanted to cry today. The last week has been odd. Every week is odd. I think my boobs have started growing a bit again, which is neat but also annoying. They hurt! Oh and I stopped getting laser for my face some time after the last update mentioning it. Not because it was done, I just sort of fell off the bandwagon. I don't feel so bad about facial hair any more, any I don't shave anything (except my face which I don't usually let grow for more than 3 days without a shave) in protest of body hair standards. OH NO, AN ARMPIT!

Looking more feminine has been nice too.

Feeling a bit glum, I read through the older entries and they made me feel a massive sense of compassion for the person I was two years ago (it's been that long!). I've come a long way, but some things are the same. I'm still me. That was me. I'm her, the writer. Like...

I don't know. This article probably isn't so helpful - I didn't really start writing it with anything in mind or something in particular to say. I just felt bad, so I'm writing about how I feel. I think I feel a little better now. To anyone reading this, I support you. I'm sure there are lots of other people who feel the same way too. And I know I have no idea who you are or what you're like, but you should feel good about that. And if you don't, maybe you can in the future? I hate when there's a zing back up at the end like everything always has to have a good ending. Lots of my old poetry is like that. I don't really feel like this is ready to be read, but I have a duty to make it public. Here we go. I hope you're having a good day.

I dunno. She had a hard time. Still, she made it through to get to some future of hers. I know every part of that, each bump beneath the wagon wheel, and I wouldn't exist without her resilience. Feels like I'm Harry Potter and I've just discovered the stag and its brightness against the dark was my own patronus. J.K. Rowling would be proud.

Being is odd. You're probably odd. Especially if you're reading this. But I hope it brings you something new about yourself. Take care, future reader. Write yourself a note. Write someone else a note. Make a letter. Whisper in the dark. Just don't give up. Where you would be put down, fight for your world - I and many others would fight with you.

And if you think this is cringe, tell me: what's more cringe than living a life separated from real expression of feeling? I have had to try so hard to keep a grip on the things I am and the way I feel. It doesn't always work. But the only things I've ever done or been that I regret were born from flinching away and acting to protect myself from the things I care about. Don't be like that.

And the things I am proudest of are moments where I've held myself from turning and acted to protect the things I care about instead. If you can figure out what those are, and stand by them, I think anything can be alright.

I don't know. It's nice to find an absolute to stick by, some idea that feels complete. Nothing is that simple. See, even there, it's back again. Maybe some things are. You'll be okay.

I love you,

Klara