I mostly got over the imposter syndrome, but only because I came to recognize that being trans wasn’t my choice. I had the need to be a woman thrust upon me, and in many ways it wasn’t what I wanted. I am not brave. I am a coward. All I wanted my entire life was to be as “normal” and boring as possible because growing up a weirdo hurt so much.

I only transitioned when I felt like the alternative was suicide, and it made me happier than I had ever been in my life. Every time I’ve considered the idea that I might not be trans, I laugh because the notion is so absurd at this point. My inner demon plotting my downfall doesn’t even try to doubt my gender anymore, because the evidence that I’m trans is just too definitive.

Besides, I became far closer to normal after transitioning than I had ever been before. Feeling comfortable in my gender allowed me socialize far more naturally and made me feel like I actually had a place. I didn’t really feel like a person in the past, only a paper mache imitation of what a person was. It wasn’t sticking out that made me feel so abnormal back then; it was not being myself.