When I Was Just A Little Boy, I Asked My Mother “What Will I Be?”

I’m not entirely sure anybody would ever ask to be transsexual. And as much as I dreamed of being able to live the life I have,  I didn’t really think it was going to be possible because of that particular doubt. Transition was something I saw as a torturously tall order. 

But then again,  just to be contrary, it isn’t. Or at least it isn’t always. Sometimes it’s been absolutely brilliant. The freedom to be yourself just cannot be taken for granted. And the decision I made to transition has honestly  been the best choice I’ve ever made.

I’ve never been as confident or as happy as I am right now. And I’d never have known that without making the change that I did. Not that my old life was unhappy incidentally.  It was just different. 

But transition has given me plenty. In particular it’s given me a better perspective. Life can be as good as you allow it to be. Shit still happens but in general you can pick yourself up and the sun will still rise in the morning.  That’s almost as positive as having rainbows day after day. Shoot me now! Clearly channeling Doris today. Sorry for being so disgustingly upbeat 🙂 


There’s A First Time For Everything

Today is my youngest brother’s birthday. But today he is no spring chicken. Although chicken is one of the descriptors that seems to suit best. Still absolutely no chance of a resolution but still holding it together enough to wish him nothing but the best going forward.

Still remember the day he was born. Easily the best excuse for escaping school my young self had encountered up till then. All of a sudden there were three of us and having another brother was the most exciting thing in the world. Until I realised how much noise this thing could make.

From the get go he was strong, willful and determined to have his own way. Thirty eight years have apparently seen that those qualities remain undiminished. It matters not. Loved his little pink bones then. Continue to. End of.


Missing Piece


“Oh brother, I can’t, I can’t get through. I’ve been trying hard to reach you ’cause I don’ know what to do. 

Oh brother, I can’t believe it’s true. I’m so scared about the future, and I wanna talk to you.”

Let’s be perfectly clear, I detest Coldplay but the first verse of this song couldn’t put any better how difficult it is for me to wrangle estrangement from my family. And the fact it’s a remix made it bearable for me to use it. I’ll try not to let it happen again.

You may have thought my brothers were a parked memory by now, as it’s been a while. But they are still a daily part of my life, although I am not in theirs at all. A small part of me hopes that’s not entirely true. They are pretty much screwed when it comes to our childhood memories. I’ll take that pyrrhic victory in the absence of real contact. I’m not utterly disposable to them. 

Time to resolve things will never run out at my end but I’d always just hoped to have that done before their brother disappears for good. Sadly we’ve just never managed to meet. At all, nevermind halfway. And as the clock ticks on, I don’t see it happening. Which is the saddest thing ever. It’s felt like a pointless fight.

Before too long they’ll have a sister that they aren’t talking to instead. And I totally feel for them, for having to get their heads around that in my absence. I constantly wonder how they must feel. How do they make any sense of it? Because none of our split is about anyone being wrong. It’s about hurt, failing to communicate and digging into our respective trenches. It’s all to easy to watch happen and all too hard to come back from.

Families are complicated beasts. Yours as much as mine. They move to their own beat, mine just has two left feet and a tendency to misstep. That’s ok though. Still my family and there’s not a damned thing they can do to change that. They’ll always be my brothers no matter what. And I’m now going to wait it out daily until it’s eventually time to talk. It’s an acceptably positive sort of plan. Since I let Coldplay start off today, I’m going to let them have the last word too.

“Are you lost or incomplete? Do you feel like a puzzle, you can’t find your missing piece?

Tell me, how do you feel? Well, I feel like they’re talking in a language I don’t speak. And they’re talking it to me.”


Single, With Pringles But Ready To Mingle


Slightly early post but February 14th is one of the most important days in my calendar. It’s the day my first nephew was born. Making today his 7th birthday. God bless his wee cotton socks. And that’s all we’ll say on that subject at the moment

But I do actually just like Valentine’s Day all the same. I’ll look forward to the explosion of emotion on social media. I can’t grudge anyone a bit of happiness and it’s heartening to see folk acknowledge each other. Whoever you’re with, I hope today’s as good as it can be. 

While still notionally alone, or the dreaded “Single”, I have a few contenders I’d send a platonic Valentine’s card to though. My Mum for being simply fantastic, a great friend for getting me through a difficult year and because I’m in a surprisingly good mood, the world at large for just letting me be. Probably going to need a lot of stamps. 


A Peek Behind The Curtains


Not for the first time in my life, I don’t think I know what to do next. I know what I want to do and that’s mildy helpful but I am flat out of concrete decision making at this point in time.

I don’t think I’ve ever examined my life so thoroughly. Or that I’d ever want to do so again. It’s solitary, circular and bringing me no closer to an answer. But I think it’s probably within a normal response to the decision at the heart of it. Do I need an operation to be happy?

I’ll never make a decision this important again. The weight of that knowledge is overwhelmingly real now. I feel it every moment of every day. And if it seems like I’m wavering after all this time, it’s because I’m really genuinely scared. I have every right to be. Or at least that’s how I’m selling it to myself.

I have little doubt that I’ll see it all through. That’s the deal. But a little wobble now the end is in sight was not something I originally factored in. I’m not accustomed to being paralysed by fear. But that’s it in a nutshell. I am plain and simple afraid of what comes next.

And this is where having a blog comes in handy. I can write things I can’t say out loud and then they are given substance and can be handled. So even reading this back to myself tells me what to do next. Put on the big girl pants and man the fuck up! Told you a blog was handy.


What It Is Ain’t Exactly Clear.


“Are you pondering what I’m pondering?

“I think so, Brain, but me and Pippi Longstocking– I mean, what would the children look like?”

It’s been a fair old week for pondering. I’m almost assured that nothing has been left unpondered. Until another little question starts to pipe up insistently.

A million chirping little What If’s are currently waiting in line for consideration. I have no idea of the collective noun but my suggestion would definitely be a Worry Of What If’s. Their natural habitat obviously being whenever they are least convenient.

No matter, the variety of questions that I have is mindbogglingly diverse. Will I be able to pee properly seems to be a principal question. What about “phantom limb” is another. Can I request a 100% Camel Toe free option? 

And the truth is I have no answers to anything at present. There is only one question I can even attempt to answer. Do I want this? I genuinely believe the answer is yes. No matter how scared I really am. Why else even put myself through the last three years? It can’t have been for nothing.

Surgery solves nought though. It opens up even more questions but then potentially also more experiences to be had. And I’m as ready as I’ll ever be really. Might need you to hold my hand though. However metaphorically. I’m nowhere near as brave as I paint myself in real life. I always needed help to get here. And I daily have to thank life for letting me have it. Once again, No man is an island etc. And because I am unable to help myself, unless his name is Madagascar.




On Monday I found out that my funding for Gender Reassignment Surgery had been approved. Almost the endgame of everything I have worked to achieve. I should be as happy as a dog with two tails. Instead I am legitimately terrified of what I do next.

Please don’t misunderstand, Ive worked towards this for years but there is a huge gulf between a notional aim and that aim being within your grasp. I’m plain and simple scared of what happens now.

I happen to think that is a reasonable enough response to the circumstances though. What I am about to do will change my life irrevocably and there just isn’t any getting around that.

I am as excited as I have ever been because I see the fruition of everything I’ve been through, waiting tantalisingly nearby. But the enormity of it all has an exceptionally heavy weight. My mind is a little bit blown.

I’m not about to second guess myself though. I did this with a strong and very solid plan. I was also never alone on this journey. I had the best support I could have wished for. And you will likely never understand what every single Facebook Like or read of this blog gave me. It gave me strength. To know that I was allowed to try to do this. And I appreciated all of it.

I now get to see the surgeon and ask my questions. If I don’t like the answers then the journey may end there. No operation will ever give me exactly what I want. To be accepted. I already sort of have that because my friends and my city accommodated my transition. What more do I actually need?

Please do expect more freakout posts. I doubt I’ll be able to help it. My transition is no longer notional but happening. What you may not realise is that you have helped power my resolve. No matter how small. I love that you took the time to read my blog. It did empower me. You are entirely awesome to me. You just made me feel OK.