It's a potent memory: being a child and wobbling about on your first bicycle, focusing so hard on coordinating all the actions required to keep it upright — and failing — until you stop fixating on each individual movement and suddenly "Oh my god! I'm doing it! I'm doing it!"
And then you become self-conscious again and promptly topple over. But that momentary success renders what had seemed a futile pursuit potentially fruitful.
I raise this as a metaphor because when you're a child who is trans and/or neurodivergent, and has no way of knowing that these are perfectly commonplace ways of being, you will find yourself confronted — typically within a year or two of school — with the apparent reality that there is a fixed and very limited number of legitimate kinds of human being, and that you aren't one of them.