Approximately a year ago I attended my first transgender support group. I hadn’t even gotten my first wig yet, but I remember doing anything within my limited capacities to minimize how masculine I looked. Pathetically, this was done by simply wearing a hat that I’d bought in the women’s accessory section at Target. If I’m being totally honest, it’s kind of a gender neutral hat, and occasionally I still wear it. Despite that paltry attempt at concealing my baldness I was a million miles from appearing as the person I needed to be, but I had some much deeper concerns in that moment than appearing feminine.

I’d revealed myself to my wife a week or two prior to this; to say things were awkward and strange between us was an understatement. I knew the statistics of couples that survive a transition are beyond not-good; foremost on my mind was whether we’d survive this. The support group and subsequent groups didn’t necessarily put me at ease. I was told about only one local couple that survived a transition. Group attendees not surprisingly had stories of relationships that collapsed after they came out, and to say these realities stressed me out would be a huge understatement. I wanted nothing more than to go into those meetings and leave feeling affirmed that love really can win.

Not only did I go away from those meetings without relationship optimism, I also began to take away a bunch of other worldly-rejection concerns. This can be summed up in a very simple question my wife asked me early in this struggle; “What did you expect would happen?” The God’s honest answer was that, when I realized I couldn’t continue living as a fraud, correcting this error was greater than considering any of the consequences. I literally had no clue what could happen in any of my life’s aspects. When I told her who I really was, I did so without the slightest clue of how any aspect of my life could be affected or would be effected. In that moment, I never even considered what was going to happen to us; I just had to get the truth out of me, nothing else mattered.

Support groups were a huge eye opener, but in a manner of speaking they initially felt less supportive and more like a subtle stunt class explaining how to safely take a fall. That being said, let me stress that this has nothing to do with discounting the need for support groups. Support groups are essential for a lot of reasons, but the most important reason is to illustrate that we have gone through the wringer and triumphed over that adversity. I got a lot of valuable information in support groups, and if I’m honest, I really have no clue how well my transition would be going right now if not for the information shared in those groups. It’s because of learning to tuck-and-roll like a professional stunt(wo)man that this girl has managed to survive her falls. The support groups taught me that anything is survivable.

It’s absolutely critical for new transitioners to realize that while we go to support groups because we want to be uplifted, we are going to receive a healthy dose of reality in the same moment. It’s unrealistic to convince yourself that those groups will always leave you feeling self assured. It’s not all “doom and gloom”; the actual support comes from the fact that you are literally sitting next to people who have gone through some of the worst experiences that the human condition can conjure, and they still have the strength to share that journey with a total stranger. This is your support; they exist because they want you to exist. Take a moment to dwell on that thought. How often will you EVER meet a stranger who wants to help you during the worst moments of your life? It's the difference between running into a burning building or running away from it. And whether you’d believe it or not, some of the most wounded among us are the strongest; the proof is in their presence.

For me who was primarily stressing over how much I wanted my marriage to survive, I would get a gentle and cautious vibe of “don’t count on it.” Let me as transparent as I can about that, those words weren’t ever spoken, it was simply my takeaway. The group was not trying to be cruel, they simply didn’t want to fluff expectations. The reality more often then not does not end up positive for a married Trans person. Preparing for the worst while hoping for the best might seem like the best approach, it doesn’t actually make it any less unsettling. As you dig into this, you’ll see that I struggle with this constantly. It’s totally the worst thing for your mental health.

“Worrying is like praying for something you don’t want to happen.” — Robert Downey Jr.

I heard horrible stories of spouses that left or kicked their Trans spouse to the curb. Spouses withholding their children. Spouses driven to emotionally cruel acts by other’s within their religious congregations. Friends who stopped talking or disappeared. Families that refuse to use affirming pronouns, or any name other than a birthname. Invitations to functions that come with caveats like “could you dress normal” or “come as yourself.” Families that disowned them, kicked them out, and whom were apparently so appalled by their Trans child that homelessness was better than making sure the child had a safe space. Problems with educators, and school bathrooms. Issues with identification, treatment from law enforcement and public officials. Then there’s the ever present struggles that take place within the workplace. If you can find work as Trans, will you be respected; which restroom will they make you use, will anyone (or everyone) seek out every minute flaw you have for the sole purpose of getting you fired? Will lack of employment push you into sex work? Will that land you in jail and subsequently forced into a population that you don’t identify with?

These are the harshest realities that creep up in a support group, but they are still a small drop in a bucket that the trans community is constantly working against. My eyes were opened, and my anxiety skyrocketed.

Groups are important in that they expose you to all the good and the bad outcomes. What you must not do is convince yourself that the bad is all you’ll experience. If you kill any glimmer of hope, then you are actually killing yourself; trust me, I’ve been doing this to myself since even before I came out.