Transition

The Stuff Of Nightmares

For the last couple of weeks I’ve been having recurring nightmares.  Nothing too outlandish really but the kind where you wake and it takes minutes to work out that all that stuff never actually happened. And that there is no cause to really be alarmed.

But what seems to scare me isn’t monsters or fabulous beasts I don’t know how to find. It’s just change.  Simply that. And the impact of that change on my relationships. I’m somewhat surprised that it hasn’t been spiders though. I hate them.

And it’s all really just been unresolved conversations which have spilled over into my subconscious.  And then those have played themselves out while I slept. It’s not always been pleasant. 

But it has been enlightening.  I have choices. And the best of them seems to be to learn to let things go. There are things which have hurt me. There is hurt which I’ve done. But while life is pretty good, why carry them around? They belong in the past.

For now I’m looking towards better dreams.  Of the future, of all that I have and all that I could ever reasonably wish for. Seems like a sensible enough approach. Wouldn’t mind dreaming the lottery numbers while I’m at it though. Life is what you allow it to be.  Mine couldn’t be much better.  I should take stock of that. And just let it be.

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Transition

Straying Alive

I actually struggle daily with the practicalities of being a woman,  rather than a man. Mostly because so much male privilege is literally ingrained in me. I can’t apologise for that though. I simply am who I am.

Today’s video is thought provoking however . I hope you do watch it. It’s literally my greatest fear. Shown in reverse. Watch it with the sound down if it’s not your bag. It’s a compelling video.

I take stupid risks all the time.  I don’t mean to but the male me just could. I grew used to it and took it for granted.  But now I’m facing a new horizon.  I’m vulnerable and a target in a way I just never knew.

On only Friday night I took an insane shortcut home. Straying from the safe path I knew. Taking the long route round a park where many women have been assaulted, recently enough to be in my memory.  I was actually scared for the first time in ages.

I’m used to that walk and thinking nothing of it. But that was Chris.  Chrissy should not be so cavalier.  She runs the same risk as any other woman.  And possibly worse if discovered as not as advertised.  I need to smarten my act up.

But no woman,  Trans or Cis, should know that fear. Although commonsense dictates that we do. I remain slightly afraid every time I go out. I am not completely disabled,  just acutely aware of my new situation.  It somewhat blows. We deserve better.

http://www.scotland.police.uk/contact-us/hate-crime-and-third-party-reporting/

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Transition

Out Of Control 

If this blog has taught me one thing,  it’s that the people who read it respond best to pieces that paint me in an unfortunate light. It seems churlish not to oblige now and again. 

Occasionally I come across a new indignity that was not included in the Pre-Transition brochure.  This week was another such lesson.  Although one that common sense might have avoided. 

You might call it a schoolgirl error. If you were being generous. But I had a little glimpse of a Post Op world thanks to falling asleep in overeffective Control Pants. You may have astutely guessed that wine damage was involved. 

Either way, I awoke to soft noodles for legs and a complete inability to determine whether I was in possession of any kind of genitalia whatsoever.  It’s not a mistake I’m likely to repeat. This week anyway. 

But it’s always been a tough learning curve on this particular journey.  And not every lesson is as obvious as the last. The crash course in female life is definitely on an ongoing basis. It’s not all bad though.  This week I finally “got” what I want to be doing with my nails and was absolutely delighted with myself.  Then I tried painting them. That must be an Extra Credit part of the course. It eludes me for now. The Rough Vs Smooth of transition remains frustrating but I’m getting there.  Probably get a lot further by not cutting off my own blood supply though. You live and learn. 

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Transition

Happy Bunnies, Instant Karma And Inexplicable Singing 

Here we are at Easter Sunday already. I generally find family orientated holidays pretty difficult but I’m in too good a place for that that to get a hold of me this year.

Life is entirely what you make it and I’m too settled to be lamenting about what I don’t have.  I have plenty to keep me busy. Good friends,  a life that I love and burgeoning boobs that are now practically cuppable. I’ve pretty much got  all I could really reasonably want.  Easter is all about rebirth and I’m on the cusp of that now. And part of that will be about an effort to be better too. Karma has delivered enough already for me to be a fairly happy bunny these days though.

And as an unintended measurement  of my happiness,  I can’t stop singing.  At all. Not like public performances but everywhere I go I’m singing my little heart out. Mostly to myself. Especially on the high notes. But it’s a good indicator of where I am. Which is just really stupidly happy. 

I’ve also realised that I appreciate every single person who happens to read this blog, however occasionally.  So have a wonderful Easter you fabulous little thing. Join you for a duet at midnight.  You can choose the song.

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Transition

Taken For A Ride

Enjoyed the relatively new experience of Mansplaining while  getting an estimate for new heating yesterday.  A slightly bonkers quote of £3500 to effectively heat a one bedroom flat.  Thankfully a handsome tradesman was there to guide me through it all.

I’ll give him his due. It was an accomplished,  if largely nonsensical,  spiel delivered over an hour.  Special slates for the roof of the building,  wholly new piping despite there being an existing system and new radiators and a 10 year guarantee on all parts. I sat throughout this smiling like a zenlike Cheshire cat

But part of me wanted to scream that I was getting a sex change, not a lobotomy.  I’d done my homework.  Anywhere between  £2000-2500 would be reasonable in the circumstances.  I expect to be at the lower end of that.

But an interesting experience nonetheless. Condescension really rankles me. His explanations for why I needed all the extra unnecessary work didn’t even make sense. Gave me the impression they didn’t have to as he seemed to think I had an acquired brain injury.  Don’t think I’ll stand for that ever again.  Good life lesson however. 

I make no apologies for today’s song choice incidentally.  Perfect match lyrically. I will concede it’s probably about a different sort of ride though. But what would I know anyway.  Just a girl after all 😉

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Transition

Fuck ‘Em. And The Horse They Rode Into Town.

Somewhat sadly,  if you happen to be transgender,  it is unlikely you are a total stranger to loss and particularly estrangement.  It shouldn’t be like that but the harsh reality is that it often is.

I’m one of the lucky ones. Barring absentee brothers, my old life pretty much survived intact.  I like to think that’s because I’m a good judge of character.  But that’s nonsense too. I just was lucky that the friends I chose turned out to be real ones. I never really ever thank them enough for pulling me through. 

But to find yourself estranged,  ostracised or on the outside is a pain that’s difficult to bear. The title of this post contains the best advice I have to offer to you. As painful as it may be, forget them and pick yourself up and just move on with life. 

If your world won’t come with you then make it a better one. Populated by better people around you. That get you, even if they don’t fully understand your journey, and hold you up when you’re not sure you have it in you.

Loss is awful and  traumatic but nothing lasts for ever. Where you choose to sit with it is up to you.  You can wear it as a bitter badge of honour or you can park it on the off chance it isn’t permanent.  That’s usually my default position.  And if you get the chance to resolve it? Start over. 

And if it never resolves?  They weren’t meant to be in your life. They frankly don’t deserve to be either. Keep your chin up. And see above. 

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Transition

Man Overboard 

In a bit of a state of flux just now so I have once again been neglecting the blog. Also in process of renovating my home and it’s a harder slog than I’d like. Everywhere there are traces of the male me but bit by bit I’m erasing all of that. It’s more emotional than expected. 

It’s really what I’d call “Extreme Nesting “. My surgery isn’t that far away realistically and so I am making sure my recovery will be in a safe and comfortable space. One that better reflects me. I’ll be spending plenty of time here.

But it has been somewhat tumultuous so far. Turns out Chris kept mementos of all sorts of things. I’d managed to forget that somehow. Some from childhood,  many from nights with friends and especially weddings and even funerals over the years. It all meant something to him and, by default, therefore me. And it’s been hard deciding what stays and what joins the history of the life I’m leaving in the past. 

It’s also been good though. It’s cathartic and rewarding and it’s thrown up memories that had slipped quietly into the background. Revisiting them has been pretty pleasant. But as much as I don’t intend to forget them, I have new memories to make. And a new life just around the corner. Hope it’s half as good as his.

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