Time to help.

Hello everyone!

I know I haven’t posted on here for a while but I felt like I needed to come back and share this with you.

A colleague of mine has recently been diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of cancer. She is 22. The NHS won’t fund potentially lifesaving immunotherapy treatment because her cancer is so rare.

Below I’ll post a link to a petition and to a fundraising page. Signing the petition is free and takes less than a minute. If you can donate that would be fantastic but if not please share at least one of the links.

Thank you for your help, she is a truly lovely young lady who deserves a chance to live.

https://www.change.org/p/uk-parliament-uk-should-give-22-year-old-cancer-patient-a-right-to-life

https://www.gofundme.com/alex039s-journey

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Ridiculous.

It is ridiculous. It is ridiculous that I am wide awake and thinking about her and she is fast asleep.

It is ridiculous how invested I am and how she wants to be invested but is too afraid to put her closely guarded deposit down. (God I love a finance metaphor!)

It is ridiculous that I, an adult, can’t just go up to her and tell her how I feel and kiss her.

It’s even more ridiculous that I contemplate doing that on a daily basis and yet when I see her I can barely muster a smile.

It is utterly ridiculous that I tell myself that I can be the one to make her happy and confident.

Ridiculous.

He.

He will say good morning to you, ask you how you are and how your weekend went. He’ll make a joke about how tired you look and then he’ll imagine forcefully grabbing your tits.

I’m not the one. I’m too nice and too young and too emotional and lacking in the genital department.

He could talk you into bed in seconds and I haven’t been able to talk you into a pub after two years.

He’d treat you like shit and leave you hanging. I’d treat you like a goddess and message you three times in a row.

This next month I’ll probably be heartbroken. He’ll be smug and you’ll be wounded.

Lynn.

I don’t know whether to make this post to Lynn or about Lynn because this is a post I never wanted to write.

Lynn was my therapist and she passed away recently after having particularly aggressive cancer.

My world without Lynn is weird. There’s no other way to describe it. My world is missing something and I’m scared that it will never feel as full.

At Lynn’s funeral there was a reading of some sort that said that whatever Lynn was to us she still is. I get that, it’s not as though I’m ever going to forget her but it isn’t the same. I can’t text her when I need some instant reassurance and I can’t cry in her car watching Ted talks with her.

Lynn was the first person I came out as trans to and she was a constant supporter of mine. She challenged me, swore with me and gave me the confidence to start my transition.

It all sounds like trivial things written down but she saved my life and hers was cruelly taken from her.

She was relentlessly positive and remained so even when she must have been in agony. I know she must have been scared and in pain but she didn’t show it; she had a level of strength that was immeasurable.

In one of my early sessions she asked who I idolised. I’ll be adding her to my list.

It’s kind of ironic how she taught me so many coping strategies for life and yet she didn’t teach me how to cope without her.

I’m angry. I’m angry at the world. I’m angry at the people who don’t appreciate their lives and I’m angry at those who moan. I guess I’m angry with myself. 

She requested that “Bat out of hell” be played at her funeral and when I heard it a week ago on the radio I sat in my car and sobbed.

I cry little and often and normally alone. I’ve cried in restaurants and pubs and even at work on the bus.

If I try really hard I can still remember what her voice sounded like.

I’m upset for selfish reasons mostly. I feel sad that she’ll never see me transition fully and she won’t meet my children and she won’t see me grow into the man that she helped me be.

I just have to hope that she knows how much I valued her and that she knows that I’m alive today because of her. Because I am, I owe her my life and I’ll live it in a way that she’d be proud of.

Reference points.

“I understand that, but that’s only a point of reference.” – a sentence that my therapist must say at least twice every time I meet her. 

Reference points might as well be called assumptions.

I assume a lot about people; mostly how they’ll react in a situation. Sometimes, I’m right. Very often, I’m wrong.

It is very easy to assume how a person will react to something based on past similar experiences.

The problem with assumptions is that they might hold you back or persuade you to do or say something. 

It also means that when you have a positive reference point and you experience something negative from that person it hurts rather a lot.

Cis hate.

Years ago, I was part of a big LGBTQ group. We’d all met online on a forum and we would occasionally meet up and hang out. Gradually though it all faded out and we just had each other on Facebook.

I used to be friends with a lad called Matt (not his real name) and supported him through his transition (FTM) and I was pleased to see that he was out and happy and getting on with his life.

Then one day he went on a cis rant on Facebook and made comments such as “I want to burn all cis people with lighters”. (I’m paraphrasing but it’s close enough.)

Why the fuck would you want to burn all cis people with lighters?

I don’t care how much of a bad day he’d had, burning cis people is not the answer.

At the time, I identified as cis and so it felt very personal but I was also aware that I was thinking “I wouldn’t want to burn cis people with lighters.”

I told a friend of mine about it and she tried to defend him saying that neither of us knew what it was like to be trans and to face hate from cis people.

Well now I do and I still think what he said was disgusting.

Why would anyone want to cause more hurt and hatred and fear? I rely on my cis friends, family and colleagues every single day. I was created by two cis people. Cis people taught me how to do maths and a cis person taught me how to drive a bus. 

I find it so hard to comprehend that a trans person would alienate someone because of their gender identity and seek to punish them.

Evening.

Dear Mindfuck,

Dear is too formal and Mindfuck is too informal.

Hi Brainsmush,

Is that better? Who the feck knows.

You’re probably sat at home on your sofa right now watching tv and snacking. I’m trying to get to sleep but evidently it isn’t working.

I feel like I’ve got a lot to lose. I’ve got my pride and my bravado and a hell of a lot of weight.

You have more to lose and I understand why you’re clinging onto it all.

I can’t and won’t guarantee you that this will be easy. I’ve learnt from my therapist that nothing can be guaranteed. 

She has a point.

I will not make promises that I can’t keep. With that in mind, I promise you these things:

• I promise that I will always be grumpy before 6am.
• I promise that I will always be allergic to cats and covered in their fur but that I will always consider getting more.
• I promise to take note of the little things – like how your eyes seem brighter when you have no make up on.
• I promise to be annoying and needy and ever so slightly immature.

On paper, we don’t make sense. It’s a good thing that we aren’t just fictional characters. I am not your ideal man and you are not my ideal woman and yet I feel like a nervous teenager when I see you.

I’m ready to lose my bravado.

Love, Similar Mindfuck 

The NHS.

During my 24 years of life I have had 2 MRIs, one CT scan and approximately 15 X-rays. I’ve been seen by cardiologists, stroke specialists and physiotherapists. Within the next 5 years of my life I will see psychiatrists, gender specialists and therapists.

I’ve been rushed into hospital once in an ambulance and I’ve called 999 to get an ambulance for someone else in excess of 10 times.

I have prescriptions for an acid reflux problem and asthma and will (hopefully) be prescribed testosterone in the future.

Eventually, I hope to undergo a double incision surgery to remove my breasts and a series of complex surgeries to give me a functioning penis.

All thanks to the NHS.

Yes, it is sometimes difficult to get a doctor’s appointment. Yes, prescriptions go missing. Yes, people have to wait a while in A&E before being seen. Nothing in this world is perfect.

The NHS is, in my opinion, as close to perfection as it gets.

I’ve just watched a recent episode of “Hospital” which focused on a trauma unit responding to the Westminster Bridge terror attack.

It wasn’t an eye opener as such because i am aware of the phenomenal work that the NHS does on a daily basis but it was a reminder of how appreciative we should all be.

Every single member of the NHS works tirelessly, with strained resources, to get the best possible outcome.

999 call responders in the control room, receptionists behind counters in rural GP practices, porters in every corridor of every hospital all over the country. Nurses, cleaners and doctors. Midwives, lab technicians and paramedics.

I have the upmost respect for everyone in the above list and those NHS staff that I haven’t mentioned.

Man, I feel like a… well like a man actually.

If you haven’t read the first post I did about this then you can read that here: https://waggcomedy.wordpress.com/2012/10/26/man-i-feel-like-a-woman-every-day-of-my-life/

Alternatively, you can just not read that and I can save you some time by telling you that I’m trans and, at the time I wrote that post, I was in so much denial.

Last summer I dislocated my knee and spent a lot of time alone in the house. My friends came to visit me and offered me loads of support via messages but something wasn’t right. I realised that I had depression and that I had had it for a long time. (You can read more about that here: https://waggcomedy.wordpress.com/?s=Depression+nearly+&submit=Search) 

I have always thought about being trans. I mean I repressed it a lot but it had always played on my mind; in the middle of the night when I was wide awake. My therapist helped me to talk about what I described as “the biggest can of worms ever”. 

It is the biggest can of worms ever. It has shocked me and it is the most difficult thing to come to terms with.

People often talk about friends and family having to go through a grieving process but I’m grieving too. I plan to do a post on that at some point, but I’ll just say now that this isn’t an easy thing for me to get my head around.

I question it. Of course I do. But I’m a man. I’m a man who likes Tegan and Sara and that’s ok. I mean I was an honorary lesbian for 24 years. I am a straight man who likes a “lesbian” band. That feels weird. I guess I’m going to have to explain why to people but I doubt explaining my music tastes will be the hardest thing to do. 

I hope you all likes blogs about being trans because this blog is about to be full of transness! 

Oh hi WordPress!

I bet you’ve forgotten that I existed and I couldn’t blame you!

I was horrifically sick for a week and went away for a week (more on that soon) but apart from that there are no excuses!

I have lots of posts already written just waiting to be published so expect a bit more content from me soon!