Atypical Trans Late Bloomer

I visited a friend this week. A solid conservative, yet a good, decent, thoughtful person. I had a gift for him - a lamp which I'd seen that screamed out to belong to him. He lives about 2h15m from me. A doctor's appointment took me to his area. The last time he saw me, I was a guy. I was apprehensive. It went to well. He brought me into his house. We sat and talked. Old-timer stuff. He said, Hey you look different. Then, just to speak of the elephant in the room. Well, I am different. I laid it out, big picture: the HRT, the changing, telling my family, telling my boss. We talked. He said, I wish you every happiness, and he meant it. That really meant a lot to me. A good friend, a solid person, a decent human. I'm not surprised. I was relieved.

Every time I open my browser, it asks: who are you? Who are you today? It offers me a choice between my firstName, which is soon to be my deadName, and my nextName. Of all the stupid routines my computer and software gives me, this one is not tedioous. I feel like it keeps me honest.

I have for about the last 25 years (I am old!) found some explanation in a phrase of my own: Goldfish Don't See the Bowl. What I mean by that is: Most of use do not see the systems we are embedded in: economic, civil, legal, religious, class, even (gasp!) gender . I was so pleased to learn about a speech given by D.F. Wallace, in which he posits: What is water to a fish? His speech is packaged in a book, and the Amazon people have remarkably brought it to my stoop today. I look forward to reading it. I would like to assert: I see the bowl I was put in. I'm actively changing my bowl.