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Transition was a trainwreck

My willfully selfish choice to transition was a runaway trainwreck plowing through the lives of everyone who loved me. Sometimes detransitioning feels like the bloody seats, the broken glass, the tangled mess. Everything left exposed after the dust settled. My family had no idea what I was doing. Peer support encouraged me to not tell them or visit.

No ones family is perfect, some are better and some are worse. Mine was neither the best nor the worst. They were and remain the only people who have known me my entire life. Grandma Enge did an amazing job teaching her children how to love and care for each other. She extended this to her grandchildren. By encouraging me to not share anything about transitioning with my family, peer support separated me from a vital source of critical feedback: Voices that would have seriously questioned my actions, reasoning, and sanity.

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