A Love Letter To My HRT

It’s been six months since the last time I had access to my hormone replacement therapy. Though I was already prescribed and had been on testosterone since 2016, when I moved to a new state no doctor would continue my prescription. Until now…

To my HRT,

Hi.

It’s been awhile.

I’m sorry we haven’t seen each other since October of 2018.  I know you’ve been waiting for me and I didn’t mean to keep you in suspense for so long.

I feel like I owe you an explanation.

Long story short – I moved. Long story long – I moved to a place where the reception was really bad. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to see you – it’s just that any channel I tried to reach you through was static. I don’t know what you did to piss off a whole bunch of old red state doctors, therapists, nurse practitioners, and endocrinologists, but they really, reallydon’t know what to do when I bring up your name. Every day they cut another line and the frequency got a little fuzzier between you and I until finally there was just silence.

Some of them didn’t think you were safe for me. Can you believe that? I tried to tell them that I’ve never felt more secure than when wrapped in your arms, but I guess they thought I was looking at you through rose-colored glasses. There’s only so many times I can tell someone their colorblind and that I’m just wearing the same glasses that have always allowed me to see clearly – glasses one of their colleagues subscribed – before I have to give up.

Other people needed an itemized history of everything you’ve done to me, no matter how intimate. They wanted to touch every part of my body that you’ve touched to make sure it wasn’t bruised even though their fingers marred me. They kept me locked in a room for hours and quizzed me on whether or not you were really right for me, citing my childhood.  They might have opened up a line and let me talk to you, but you and I know better than to play puppet. I knew you were going to be disappointed if I let him reduce me to begging for you. I wasn’t going to tell this man you weren’t important to me and I wasn’t going to let him decide who I was in order to fabricate a demented fairytale about what you and I have. I might have cried…a lot…but you’d be proud of how brave I was. I learned from you that we are worth more – that I am worth more. You taught me that no matter how much the world screams to me that there is only one answer to the equation, there’s always another way to solve it. I knew I could call you on another frequency that wouldn’t burn my skin the way this man’s promises seared and sizzled.

Other people simply didn’t listen, even when it was their job to. I would tell them how much I missed you and would be met with a blank stare. No matter how many times I asserted that I just needed the phone to pick up and call you, the line remained closed.

It was really quiet without you.

And in the silence, I realized how important you are to me.

You complete me.

I know it always sounds cliché to say that after a break – and I know it’s cliché to say “they’re called clichés for a reason” – but sometimes one must use the words that are already laid out before them so they can make a rope out of the metaphors and journey safely to the truth.

We had been together so long I forgot how integral you were to my everyday happiness. It’s easy to take what’s in front of you for granted. By the time the silence had descended on us, I no longer looked forward to our Wednesday ritual. I had forgotten what it was like to count the hours until we could be together. In the beginning, like any relationship, we were giddy. Every shot of you sent sparks of excitement through my bloodstream. I checked in daily to see how we were doing and celebrated all of our firsts. Foolishly, I thought we had plateaued on our journey together. I’ll be honest, right before the silence I had begun to I resent you. I was angry you didn’t give me what I saw you giving others. I wanted you to cover my face in prickly flowers and to hide my shame from others behind the masc. I got angry every time you stung me and put off seeing you until late in the night. You were a chore because you weren’t perfect. I wanted you to be a knight in shining armor when you were really the horse I was supposed to ride in on. You were my support, not my savior – I had to still do some of the work.

I’m sorry I took you for granted all the times you were right in front of me. I’ll never skip out on you again.

I’m excited to reconnect with my love for you and relearn gratitude as I once again explore the world in a body kissed by you.
I missed your touch.
I missed the roughness you put in my voice as you nestle yourself between my vocal cords.
I missed the faint lines you traced across my upper lip and jaw.
I missed the swell you put in my belly to love and appreciate others.
Every time you touched me it became easier for me to touch someone else.
I miss the strength you rooted in me.
I cried a lot in your absence.
Like, a lot.
I forgot how much of my weight you carried on your back.
With you, my baggage feels less like baggage and more like weightlifting…if that makes sense.
Too macho?
Sorry – hey, you’re the one you got me going to the gym.
I miss the way you held my hand in public and reminded others of who I was.
I missed the way you made me smile.
I missed the way you stopped the bleeding.
The way you stoppered up the parts of me that made me feel wrong and reminded me that my body was right.
That my body was my right to have.

All this to say, I hope you’re not mad and it’s so great to be with you again.

I promise I won’t let you go this time around. I’ve got someone whose got really good reception and always lets me borrow his phone. I watched as his eyes lit up the first time I talked about how much I loved you. He said he recognized the type of connection you and I had – he had seen it many times and knew how important finding that special someone can be.

And damnit, if we ever get separated again, know I will climb as many latex-covered, stethoscope-wielding, invalidating mountains to reach you again.

Besides, no one’s got chemistry like you and I.

Get it?

Yours truly,
Body

Brain

Self

Truth

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