I can’t transition.
Not yet, anyway. And not because I don’t want to. I do. So badly it hurts. I think about it constantly.
But wanting something and being able to do it are two different things. And right now, I’m stuck in that gap. I know I’m trans. But I can’t transition—and there are real reasons why.
This is what’s in the way.
💜 This is a small part of my personal journey. Want the full story of how I figured it all out? I broke it all down here:
Crossdresser vs Transgender: How I Finally Figured Out Who I Am
It’s not really about money
Technically, we could make it work. If we budgeted carefully, if insurance helped out, if we made it a priority—it’s possible. Not easy, but possible.
That’s not why I can’t transition. It might slow things down, but it’s not the main thing holding me back.
We haven’t looked into everything yet—costs, coverage, providers—but I know deep down, if this were only about money, we’d figure it out.
I can’t transition because of my wife
She didn’t sign up for this.
She married someone who hadn’t even started asking the big questions yet—someone who looked like a man and acted like a man and maybe even believed it for a while.
She’s been loving, honest, and scared. She’s grieving a future she thought we’d have. And even though she wants to support me, this isn’t easy on her.
I know what she’s risking. People she cares about might leave. Friends might judge her. It’s already exhausting trying to be “okay” with something that reshapes your entire life.
And I see it every time this comes up. I see the fear in her eyes. The sadness. The panic that she’s going to lose something too big to get back.
That alone makes me hesitate.
I can’t transition because of my kids
They have no idea who I really am. To them, I’m just “dad.” And they love me with their whole hearts.
They’re still little. Too young to understand the complexity of gender, or what it would even mean if I changed my name, my voice, my body. And I’m scared that introducing that now would confuse or even hurt them.
But more than that, I’m scared for how other people would treat them.
They don’t deserve whispers or questions or judgment at school. They don’t deserve to feel like they have to explain me to anyone. And if I transition right now, I’m afraid that’s exactly what would happen.
I can handle the comments, the stares, the fallout.
But I can’t transition if it means putting that weight on their little shoulders.
Fear is what holds me back
Not fear of being trans. Not fear of who I am.
Fear of what this would do to the people I love most.
Fear of breaking something we’ve worked so hard to hold together. Fear of being the reason they get hurt, pushed out, or left behind.
It’s not that I don’t want this. I just don’t know how to want it loudly when the cost might be too high.
And for now, that fear is enough to keep me here.
If you are interested, I have started gender therapy to help me move past this fear. You can read about my first gender therapy session here.
I’m still trans—even if I can’t transition
That doesn’t change.
Not transitioning doesn’t make me less serious. It doesn’t make me less real. It just means I’m carrying more than one truth at the same time.
So if you’re here too—stuck, scared, trying to make impossible choices—please know:
You’re not alone.
And you’re still trans.
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