From people who have been through it

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are last month. Married with children and only now admitting it to myself. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are after the new year. Married with kids and only now admitting it to myself. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are four months ago. Married with children and only now admitting it to myself. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are three weeks ago. Married with kids and only now admitting it to myself. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“I was 57 when I started telling people. You might be younger, you might be older. It doesn't matter. The first person is the hardest. For me it was my brother. He didn't say much, then called two days later to check I was okay. That was enough. You don't have to tell everyone at once. One person is a start. And if it goes badly, that is not the end of your story. You are still here, still yourself. Keep going.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are just before Christmas. Starting HRT. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in the autumn. My church. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“Si estás empezando esto, no te voy a decir que se pasa. No sé. Lo que sí sé es que puedes dudar y seguir siendo tú. Yo dejé la iglesia a los treinta y cinco y todavía me despierto pensando en eso. Pero ya no me duele todo el día. Busca a alguien con quien puedas hablar sin que te quiera convencer de nada. Y duerme si puedes. A mí me ayuda pintar.”

“Coming out is scary and messy. Not everyone will react well, but some will surprise you. Your journey is yours, and you don't owe anyone an explanation. Take your time. And find at least one person who sees you for who you are. They're out there.”

“Coming out is different for everyone. For me, my dad stopped talking. That hurt more than I expected. But some people surprised me. My brother let me in. A friend from class checked on me. The waiting list for the clinic is long, but I'm still here. If you're just starting, take it slow. You don't have to tell everyone at once. And if someone walks away, it says more about them than you. Keep the people who stay.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are two months ago. A waiting list for the gender clinic. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“If you're at the start of this, I won't pretend it's easy. The first few months were the worst of my life. But I'm writing this from the other side, and some days now I forget to be sad. Try not to make big decisions on the worst days so I learned that the hard way so go slowly.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are two months ago. Left the church I grew up in. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are just before Christmas. A waiting list for the gender clinic. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“I'm not going to tell you everything happens for a reason. It doesn't. But you can get through it. I did, and I'm not especially strong. I told the safest person first. That gave me courage for the rest.”

“I'm 29 and I only started saying it out loud last year. I know how scary it is. The waiting lists are long and the forms are a nightmare. But you don't have to have it all figured out. I changed my name on everything last month and it felt weird and good at the same time. If you're married with kids and only now admitting it to yourself, you're not alone. Take it one form at a time. One conversation at a time. And maybe stay off Instagram for a bit. It helps.”

“Please be gentle with yourself. I wasn't. It made everything harder. I told the safest person first. That gave me courage for the rest. And talk to someone, even if it's just in here.”

“I remember reading notes like this and not believing them. So I'll just say what happened to me: left the church I grew up in was my lowest point, and a year later I'm ok. Not perfect. Ok. You will be too, in your own time.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in October. My dad has not spoken to me since. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in November. Married with kids and only now admitting it to myself. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your figners after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are four months ago. My husband still believes. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“Please be gentle with yourself so I wasn't, and it made everything harder. Ask for a double appointment if you can, it changed things for me. And talk to someone, even if it's just in here.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in February. Came out to my parents at Christmas. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“If you're at the start of this, I won't pretend it's easy. The first few months were the worst of my life so but I'm writing this from the other side, and some days now I forget to be sad. Try not to make big decisions on the worst days. I learned that the hard way so go slowly.”

“I remember reading notes like this and not believing them. so I'll just say what happened to me: left the church I grew up in was my lowest point, and a year later I'm ok. not perfect. ok. you will be too, in your own time.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are six weeks ago. Questioning everything. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in the autumn. My parents praying for me. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are three weeks ago. A waiting list for the gender clinic. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers aftr the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are back in the summer. A waiting list for the gender clinic. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are last week. Left the church I grew up in. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“I remember reading notes like this and not believing them. So I'll just say what happened to me: starting HRT was my lowest point. A year later I'm ok. Not perfect. Ok. You will be too, in your own time.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are three weeks ago. A waiting list for the gender clinic. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in the spring. Starting HRT. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in November. My first pride. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“If you're at the statr of this, I won't pretend it's easy. The first few months were the worst of my life. But I'm writing this from the other side, and some days now I forget to be sad. Finding people like me online first made it easier to come out in person. Go slowly.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are six weeks ago. My first pride. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“I'm not going to tell you it gets easier right away, because it didn't for me. The first few months I felt like I'd walked out of a party and everyone was still inside having fun. What helped was finding one or two people who didn't need me to explain everything. And taking the train and just watching the city go by. You don't have to have a new belief system ready. You just have to get through the week.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in February. A waiting list for the gender clinic. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are after the new year. Starting HRT. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in the spring. A waiting list for the gender clinic. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“coming out cost me people. it also brought me better ones. don't rush it, you don't owe everyone the news on the same day. pick one person you trust and start there. if your family won't have you, that says everything about them and nothing about you. it stings like hell, i won't pretend otherwise. there are people out here who get it. i'm one of them. keep going.”

“I'm not going to tell you everything happens for a reason so it doesn't so but you can get through it, I did, and I'm not especially strong. I started saying no to things and it made a big difference.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are four months ago. Being outed at work. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“Please be gentle with yourself. I wasn't, and it made everything harder. Not everyone needs to know. I tell people when I'm ready. And talk to someone, even if it's just in here.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are last spring. My husband still believes. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“For anyone just starting down this road, I'd say take your time. You don't have to figure it all out today. It's okay to have questions and to not have the answers. You might lose some people, but you'll find others. And if you still have people in your life who believe, that's okay too. You can love them and still disagree. Be patient with yourself. It gets less scary, I promise. You're not the only one in this, even if it feels like it.”

“I'm not going to tell you everything happens for a reason. It doesn't. But you can get through it. I did, and I'm not especially strong. Finding people like me online first made it easier to come out in person. Keeping faith.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in May. Losing my whole community. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“If you're at the start of this, I won't pretend it's easy. The first few months were the worst of my life. But I'm writing this from the other side, and some days now I forget to be sad. I told the safest person first. That gave me courage for the rest. Go slowly.”

“Please be gentle with yourself, I wasn't, and it made everything harder. Not everyone needs to know and I tell people when I'm ready. And talk to someone, even if it's just in here.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are two months ago. My husband still believes. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“When I started saying it out loud, I was scared of everything. The depot, my parents, the neighbours. Some of it was as bad as I thought. Some of it was better. My brother called me. My mother held my hand. I still have bad days. I still have days when I stay in the tuk tuk after my shift and do not want to go inside. But I have a life that is mine now, and it is not nothing. Take your time. You do not have to tell everyone at once. Tell one person who will not drop you. Then the next.”

“I remember reading notes like this and not believing them. So I'll just say what happened to me: questioning everything was my lowest point. A year later I'm ok. Not perfect. Ok. You will be too, in your own time.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in February. Questioning everything. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“I think If you're at the start of this, I won't pretend it's easy. The first few months were the worst of my life. But I'm writig this from the other side, and some days now I forget to be sad. Not everyone needs to know. I tell people when I'm ready. Go slowly.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are just before Christmas. Questioning everything. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“I remember reading notes like this and not believing them. So I'll just say what happened to me: my dad has not spoken to me since was my lowest point, and a year later I'm ok. Not perfect. Ok. You will be too, in your own time. Praying for strength.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are three weeks ago. Losing my whole community. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in November. Starting HRT. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in January. My dad has not spoken to me since. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”