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I come home to my apartment after work. I sigh in relief as I walk through the door, as it had been a hard day. Immediately, I take off my shoes at the entrance and put on my slippers. I could smell food wafting from the kitchen. Yoosung, my boyfriend, was waiting for me inside, cooking dinner for us. He would be spending the night at my place, as per usual.
Yoosung and I had begun dating a couple of months ago, after my first time organizing a party with the RFA. It was also the first time we had met each other in person. Texting and calling each other made us develop feelings for each other, which made that first meeting even more special. It was also nerve-wracking, because prior to meeting, Yoosung had no idea that I am a trans man. Thankfully, though, all's well that ends well--he accepted me for who I am, and we had been together ever since.
Though Yoosung was very sweet and caring, he was still getting to know me, as much as I was still getting to know him. Being vulnerable around each other took lots of time and patience. It was hard for me to open up, and on a night like tonight, it felt like I carried a heavy weight on my shoulders that I was still unwilling to share.
"Hey, babe." I mumble as I walk into the kitchen. I kiss Yoosung's cheek and look over his shoulder at his cooking. "What are you making?"
"Welcome home, love." Yoosung greeted me back with a smile. "Just some egg fried rice. It'll be ready soon, I just need to let it sit for a while." He turned off the stove and turned to me, his arms snaking around my waist to pull me closer.
Unfortunately, I felt very uncomfortable in my body that day. My gender dysphoria felt very high, and being touched triggered me into suddenly feeling hyperaware of my body. A body that wasn't manly enough. Still, I kept my eyes lowered and tried to bear through it. I didn't want to hurt Yoosung's feelings.
"Hey… what's wrong, my love?" He asks, concerned. He places the palm of his hand gently on my face. I tense up but didn't move away. "Are you not feeling well?"
"I'm fine. Just tired…" I lie. I kiss the back of his hand and slip out of his loose embrace slowly. "Let me just change, and I'll be right back."
As I made my way to my bedroom, I could hear Yoosung's footsteps behind me. I roll my eyes, wishing he would take a hint and let me have a moment to gather myself, alone. Instead, my loving boyfriend follows me to my bedroom and watches me take some clothes out of the drawer.
At first, he was silent. It unnerved me. I couldn't blame him for being worried at my unusual attitude, but I was feeling increasingly irritated. A knot was forming in my throat. But still, I tried to push through it. "What is it…?" I ask in as measured a tone as I could manage. It sounds way too flat to be my normal tone, which immediately gave me away.
"Did… something happen?" Yoosung asks, still worried. "We could talk about it, if you want."
I shake my head. "Honey, I swear, I'm fine."
Since my back was turned, I didn't see him get closer to me. Yoosung wraps his arms around my waist from behind, making me immediately tense up. I don't move.
He sighs. "Are you stressed out?" He asks, pressing on. "Darling, it's okay… Just talk to me."
"Don't!" I hastily pulled away from him, and turned to him with teary eyes. "Please… don't touch me right now…" My voice came out quiet and broken.
Yoosung's eyes open wider in shock. "Babe…?"
Damn it. I messed up. In trying to keep it to myself, I had hurt him. Shame and guilt tugged at my stomach, making it churn. I sigh and close my eyes, holding on to the drawers for support. After a moment of silence, I spoke as carefully as I could, but my voice was hoarse. "I'm sorry… It's not you, I…" I breathed in, breathed out, and opened my eyes again. "I don't feel well right now."
"Oh, honey… I--" Yoosung began to approach me with open arms, but I held out my hand for him to stop.
"I mean it… I don't want to be touched right now… Sorry…"
I look down, because I don't want to see Yoosung's sad puppy-dog eyes. Not wanting to touch him was very unusual, given that we're both very touchy-feely. Casual caresses and lingering touches were our normal, every-day language. However, I needed for him to understand that I did not feel like myself, in that moment. I felt overwhelmed with too many emotions to even count them.
"Right… okay. Why don't we sit down?" Yoosung says. He offers me a hand. I take it, and without looking up, I let him gently guide me to sit at the edge of the bed.
"Is this okay?" He asks, his hand now hovering just barely above mine.
I nod. "Just hands is fine… for now." I clasp his hand in mine and give it a reassuring squeeze.
"Good." Yoosung says. I hear him sigh, and then his free hand points upward. "My love, can you look at me, please?"
Slowly, I lifted my face again, and looked at Yoosung. He gave me a comforting smile that made me instantly feel some relief. "There you are," he said softly. "What are you feeling? Do you think we can talk about it?"
Even with my head up, my gaze was drawn towards the ground. I felt ashamed, guilty, anxious and so much more, all at once. I couldn't even begin to describe how I felt. "It's…complicated…"
"Well, I'd like to be here for you, hopefully to help you out. But I need you to tell me what's going on, please…" He begs. "I'm starting to worry, and my mind is going like a million different places… so I think it's easier for us both if you just tell me about it." Yoosung was holding my hand in between both of his. The warmth of them was starting to soothe my aching heart, just a little bit.
"I mean… what I'm feeling right now is hard to describe but…" I take a deep, steadying breath. "For you, I can try."
"Good," Yoosung says. His tone was sweet and gentle, but also careful. He holds my hand in both of his, stroking the back of mine with his thumb. "Go ahead, take your time."
I nod. A tired sigh escapes my lips. "As you already know, I am trans. And well… I know that we've talked about the topic quite a bit, to help you understand me. But there's one thing that I haven't mentioned-- it happens to a lot of trans people, and it's really affecting me right now. It's this thing called 'dysphoria'. Have you… heard anything about it?"
Yoosung leans a little closer. He hums, thinking for a moment. "Well… I've read a little bit about it. It's like, the discomfort of your body not matching your gender, right?"
"Technically, yes… But it's not just discomfort, okay?" I try to explain in the gentlest way possible. "To me, dysphoria is like… a bad sensation that comes and goes. Some days I'm feeling nice, accepting myself and my body for how it is. But at other times, the dysphoria comes back and I start to feel so…. Self-conscious. Y'know? I start to think about every little detail about myself that doesn't match my idea of masculinity, and it makes me feel so sick and gross that I get overwhelmed by it all. I feel… shame, frustration, anger… A lot of negative thoughts come to mind. And it stays with me all day, or even for several days."
Yoosung nods slowly as he listens. "Okay… And does something trigger your dysphoria? Like, if anyone says anything transphobic around you, does that make all these feelings come up?"
"Mmm… Kind of?" I think for a moment. "I guess that there are triggers, but I'm not the most aware of mine. And it's different for everyone. Sometimes it starts with one part of my body triggering like, a fixation on it. I have it on my mind all the time for a while, my brain just reminding me constantly that this specific part of me invalidates my gender. At other times I just feel… generally inadequate? I guess. Or like I'm not enough. Today is just like that, 'cause nobody insulted me or said anything bad around me but…" I sigh. It's so hard to accurately explain this, and I'm worried if he even understands all these vague descriptions. "I feel so bad. I feel not real. I feel like I'm just a huge faker that lost the body lottery and has been trying to make up for it all this time… and failing at it, all the time. I sometimes take one wrong look from someone as if they're seeing through me, realizing I'm not 'really' a guy. At least, not in the way they expect."
Yoosung is silent. I also go silent, unsure of how to continue. After a moment, I look up at him, and his brow is furrowed as he thinks.
"I'm sorry… I'm not making any sense, am I?" I chuckle bitterly.
His expression drops and he looks me in the eyes with a sheepish smile. "Oh, no, it's not like that! I understand what you're saying. I just… well, I can only imagine how hard it's been for you all this time… And I had no idea! What kind of boyfriend am I…"
I automatically bring my hands up to gently cup his face. "Oh no! No, honey, this has nothing to do with how good or bad you are at being my boyfriend…" I sigh. "You're doing great at caring for me. I just… had never had to explain this to someone before. I usually had to deal with all this on my own. So thank you…" I lean closer and kiss Yoosung's forehead. "Thanks for giving me this space to talk about it, and thank you for listening to me."
Yoosung smiles. He gazes at me with a tender look that always makes my heart melt. "Well, thank you for opening up. I'm sure it's not easy for you."
"It's not easy… and I feel like total shit right now." I sigh and shake my head. "But you've made me feel a little better now."
We sit in comfortable silence, our hands once again entangled together. After a moment, Yoosung asks, "Hey… What can we do to help you feel less, um… less shitty?" He chuckles.
I shrug. "I still don't feel much like being touched right now. I feel too aware of my whole body and it's a very strange feeling. But I guess we can still have dinner, and maybe watch TV? Distracting myself would be better than letting my thoughts spiral further, I think."
Yoosung nods. "Got it. Anything for my wonderful, handsome, absolutely amazing boyfriend," he says, emphasizing the word "handsome" by winking at me.
I chuckle at his compliments. "Thank you, my love." I bring his hands up and kiss his knuckles. "I appreciate it."
He smiles brightly as always, his purple eyes full of warmth and affection for me. I smile back in gratitude.
Yoosung leaves to set the table, while I change into my comfiest sweatpants and baggiest hoodie. I leave my binder in the hamper with the rest of my clothes and try to ignore the thousands of negative little voices in the back of my mind that tell me that I'm not really a man. We have dinner and watch TV on the couch. When we finally go to bed, I feel well enough to cuddle with Yoosung to sleep.
The dysphoria doesn't go away completely, but at least I can count on people I love to help me feel a lot better. As long as I have this of kind support in my life, I feel like I can always pick myself back up to keep going.