I don’t know if it’s taking hormones, or feeling feminine, or being trans*, or being in therapy, or being in the middle of a long run of disclosures, or preparing to get to the hardest disclosures of all, but I am aware of a new fear.

I’m afraid of not being loved. It’s a feeling that’s slowly crept up on me, but I feel it more intensely these days.

I’m afraid my physical, social, and mental changes, while exciting and transformative for me personally, will drive away those who loved me as I was before. They will discover that their love was tied more strongly than they realized to a bundle of characteristics that was George and that while they’re happy for Joyce’s emergence, she’s not the person they liked or loved initially. The love and friendship will cool and die as the excitement about a transsexual transition becomes old news.

What initially seems an interesting evolution of physical characteristics will increasingly be felt as weird, and that weirdness will become a wedge driven between us. The weirdness will creep from the physical to the emotional and the social until everything has cooled like a meteor sitting alone on the desert floor after a fiery entry through the atmosphere, my only hope being that a meteor prospector will stumble across me accidentally and know the joy that I once felt and the connections I once had when I was a heavenly body.

I don’t want to be like that, unloved, unknown, alone. I want to be wanted and cared for and loved.