i don't know how to exist in public yet
🚶♀️
I keep trying to convince myself that being perceived is normal.
People exist. People look. People walk by you.
I've heard of Sonder. Cool. Normal stuff.
But then the second I’m actually outside I’m like:
oh.
OH.
I don’t think anyone really warned me
that transitioning means you have to relearn how to be a person
in the world
I don’t know how to exist in public yet.
And I’m trying.
But holy shit, it’s really fucking weird.
the outside world is too high-res
Inside my apartment everything makes sense.
The lighting is soft.
The mirrors are placed strategically so I don’t get jump-scared on days I don't feel like it.
My clothes feel safe.
My voice sounds like mine, sometimes.
I can just. exist.
But outside?
Suddenly everything is ultra HD 16k and pointed at me like an overblown ringlight.
Every step feels like:
“am I walking like a girl?”
“is this too masc?”
“am I holding my shoulders right?”
“do people see me or the ghost of who I used to be?”
and I KNOW nobody cares
and I KNOW everyone’s busy
and I KNOW most people barely register me
but the dysphoria gremlin in my skull is like:
“fun fact: they’re all looking and you’re doing it wrong.”
thanks babe, love u too. xoxo
being read vs. being SEEN
Here’s the real problem:
I don’t actually know how the world sees me yet.
I’m transitioning.
My body’s shifting.
My face is changing slowly.
My voice sits somewhere between “girl at a bus stop”
and “anime character with laryngitis but tits to make up for it.”
Some days strangers gender me right
and my whole chest warms up while the grin on my face is super noticeable.
Other days they don’t
and I feel like I vanish.
Like I’m just someone’s son again.
Existing in public right now feels like Schrödinger’s cat.
I’m both seen and unseen.
Recognized and erased.
And until I feel stable in myself,
the outside world feels unstable too.
the new-city loneliness doesn’t help
Moving would’ve been hard enough as cis.
But moving mid-transition
girl.
I don’t know anyone here yet.
I don’t know the rhythm of the streets.
I don’t know the friendly places vs. the places where people stare too long.
And I swear to god, sometimes I walk outside
and the silence feels so loud
it’s like the whole city is waiting for me to prove I belong here.
And I do
I know I do
but I haven’t figured out how to act like it yet.
learning to be a girl in public is weirdly tender
There are tiny moments though.
Small victories that feel stupid to talk about out loud,
but whatever, this is my blog so I’m talking.
for example:
the first time I caught my reflection in a window and didn’t flinch but stopped
the first time someone said “she” casually and I didn’t have to pretend it didn’t affect me
the first time I realized I wasn’t scared of my own voice ordering something
the first time a cashier smiled at me in a way that felt normal
the first time I felt cute outside my room
these things feel microscopic
but when your whole life has been dysphoriaspeedrunany%,
they’re huge.
They’re proof.
Proof that one day I’ll walk down the street
and feel like a person
instead of a ghost wearing ripped thrifted jeans.
what i’m trying to do now
So I’m practicing existing.
Slowly.
I try to leave the house every day, even if it’s just:
taking out trash
grabbing a snack
walking to buy a drink
touching grass for 12 seconds
I try to let myself be seen for tiny windows of time
until the panic fades enough
that being in public feels less like performance
and more like presence.
Because I know one day the world will feel comfortable again.
Not because it changed
but because I did.
i’m not there yet. but i’m getting closer.
I don’t know how to exist in public yet.
But I’m learning.
I’m shy, awkward, nervous,
but I’m learning.
And honestly?
That feels like enough for right now.
If you’ve ever felt like you’re relearning how to inhabit your own body,
your own gender,
your own place in the world:
hi.
I see you.
Let’s figure this shit out together. xoxo
much love - claire, 18/Nov/2025