You Know The Nearer Your Destination….

Time is beginning to move terribly quickly. I don’t necessarily believe that this is a bad thing but I am very aware that the days of my old life are numbered. And there is a little bit of sadness attached to that.

I don’t know that I’ve really given people enough time to adjust but the harsh reality is that it’s now happening whether any of us are ready or not. And I’m kind of sorry for that. There’s so many conversations I planned to have with the folk that I love and so many times that life just got in the way. In my life. And theirs.

But it’s a positive time too. I’m so almost there that the change is tangible. I’m looking forward to all that life is about to have to offer. And about as prepared as I think I can be. There are no definites I can promise myself. It’s going to be a challenge. But for a change, one that I entirely welcome.

I wish I had more time to fix the things I didn’t do so well though. But I hope folk understand that I always wanted to and may yet be able to in some form. It will just be different is all. And despite the song choice, it’s very definitely me that will be sticking around. I’m not slipping anywhere. Especially away. Couldn’t have got here without the folk I have. Won’t be able to get any further without them either. And that’s as Totes Emosh as I get for one post. Next time let’s do the upcoming joys of dilation. Mindbending trying to pick a song for that though!

Transition, Uncategorized

Season Of The Bitch

Really not looking forward to this week at all. Tomorrow I’m giving up smoking. And then on Wednesday I’m saying my Goodbyes to Oestrogen for a while and my Testosterone blocker for ever.

I find all of that a little scary. I’ve stopped smoking before. That was grim enough without the hormonal element. But I’m reminding myself it’s all for a good cause.

It’s just over 6 weeks till my surgery and that’s the reason for all of this. Stopping smoking is arguably one of the most positive outcomes I could aim for, even without the operation, and I have to recognise it would be better for me if I can stay stopped afterwards.

But a barrel of laughs it won’t be. I apologise in advance to my nearest and dearest as I hated trying to stop before. But I did and I can again. The main thing is that the countdown has started and that’s a good enough reason to make the change. God help us all!


Keeping The Wolves At Bay

An interesting week emotionally. To put it simply, I’m all over the place. Not at all necessarily a bad thing. Just adjusting to having an operation date has meant even more questions and finding myself scrambling for even more answers. But I’m getting there. Mostly.

The biggest of my current fears is a fairly standard “I’ll never be accepted as a real woman” worry that has been with me since the very start of this process. However, the current answer to this niggling little question is “So what?”. I don’t really believe that it’s true and I’m starting to be of the opinion that I don’t care anyway. I am the thing that I am, whatever that is, and I’m seemingly pretty happy with that day to day.

That I do have such worries seems appropriate enough though. Given that I’m now on a clock ticking towards my final transition. I have around two months to sort it all out in my head and I’m confident that’s more than enough time. But the eerie calm that I was enjoying up till now has definitely evaporated.

I’m sort of holding on to the notion that nothing much will actually change. Other than major replumbing works, it’s not like anything else about me is being overhauled. And I’ll probably find other things to worry and freak out about once my long awaited metamorphosis is done anyway. I just need to knuckle down and make it through the next few weeks to my surgery. And then I’ll be like a dog with an extra tail to wag. One would hope not literally though. 



At One With Yourself

I promised you a freakout post at some point. It’s totally today. Exactly eight weeks from now I will have the surgery this entire journey has been ambling towards. I’m not ashamed to say that’s a little bit terrifying to put down in words.

That I have a date for my operation is of course ecstatically good. I can’t pretend I am not entirely exhilarated. But now is the scariest time of all. Because it’s finally real and now all of my wants and fears are locked into battle to see just which of them unsettles me the most. A standup knockdown fight between getting what I want and, well, getting what I want.

This is a freakout post so I am convinced it’s OK if that doesn’t make much sense to you. It’s only a couple of days since I got my date and everything that’s ever been in my head about transition seems wildly amplified. Although it’s hardly the first time I’ve weighed the Pro’s and Con’s either. I’m not that stupid.

But it is something, as a decision, that I’m alone with. To have gotten to this point feels amazing. I’m lucky to have had plenty of company along the way to help me but the next bit is all on me. But I think I’m going to be OK with it all. I’ve been singing my wee heart out to myself which is usually a good sign. That my brain chose “One is the loneliest number” to be my earworm, not so much. I’ve never ever been alone in any of this. Think I’m going to concentrate on that till we’re over the finish line. A couple of passengers lighter. Don’t worry,  they’re going to live on a really nice farm  😉


Tall Tales, Epic Fails, Go Directly To Jail’s

I kind of do a pretty good impression of knowing exactly where I’m going with my transition. If I was being totally honest, the right and the wrong of it and my certainty in either regard can shift wildly in any given day. But I still like to think that I do know what I am doing.

And that can be hugely affected by external factors. That mostly probably don’t even know how much they affect me. For example this week, I’ve had a fairly equal mix of Sir and Madam when shopping. It’s hard not to falter when Sir happens. Like, exactly what the fuck am I doing with my life? Am I totally misguided?

But then, I know I’m not. I’m genuinely pretty happy and ridiculously content with my life. Nothing is necessarily perfect but everything is generally good enough. I’m only ever a roll of the dice from landing on Park Lane.

And being happy with your lot feels like a good place to be. I don’t remember ever feeling so relaxed as I am before. All things are possible. And although the op is looming large in my life, I’m scared of nothing. Life is pretty decent and once again, there is always tomorrow. Kind of a nice place to live.