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.

Advertisements

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.

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! 

I’m incredibly lucky.

It’s nearly 3am and I’m wide awake. I have (and have had for nearly a month now) a dislocated knee. I’ve got hiccups, the ominous signs of an impending period and a whole lot of phlegm; which makes me think that I’m developing a cold.

Fucking great.

My life is fucking great. Seriously, it is.

On Saturday I went to see Priscilla Queen of the Desert in Oxford. It was without doubt one of the campest things I have ever witnessed and it made me incredibly happy. Essentially, the show is based on the lives and careers of two drag queens and their transgender friend as they make their way across Australia in a bus. (We all know how much I secretly love buses so this show was bound to be good!)

There was one moment which stood out for me. It was towards the end of the show when nearly everyone in the audience was standing, clapping and singing along to the song. There were a lot of LGBTQ audience members (as I’d expected) but also some people who I hadn’t imagined would be there. Call me narrow minded but I can’t see many straight people over the age of 70 being interested in it. Anyway. Everyone was caught up in the moment and I stopped clapping and singing for a while and looked around me. I was sandwiched between two of my best friends; a straight woman and a gay man. The same straight woman who had, without being prompted, held my arm and helped me walk up some stairs just a couple of hours before. The same gay man who had ordered my Nandos for me because I couldn’t move about a lot or put weight on my knee. These two people had pushed me in a wheelchair to the theatre. They’d physically aided me. And now I was surrounded my people that I’d never met before who were mentally aiding me.

As a lesbian, it’s hard not to think about Orlando. I want to think about it, I do, but it pains me to. I know that it will pain me to and that it should but I can’t find a way to think about it without relating it to me.

When I say I make it relate to me I don’t mean that in a selfish, egotistical way. I mean that I can be out at work and not have to worry that someone will shoot me. I can have a drink in a “gay” bar and not have to worry that someone will shoot me. I can openly post about my sexuality and not have to worry that someone will shoot me. And that’s wrong. I’ve become complacent.

I forget how easy I have it. I forget how lucky I am. I forget that I have amazing family, friends and colleagues. I forget that that isn’t the case for everyone. I forget that it hasn’t always been like this. I forget that people have struggled, and still do struggle, so that I can have such a privileged life.

Right now I feel awful. I’m low; mentally and physically. I can’t drive at the moment (due to my knee injury and the strong pain killers I’m taking), I’m not seeing my friends very much and I’m unable to work. But I need to stop fucking complaining because I am alive. I am incredibly lucky. My thoughts are with those that aren’t and weren’t.

Hello folks!

Hey guys how are you all doing? I’ve been pretty busy, thanks for asking. 😉 No but seriously my life is crazy at the moment but I’ll resume regular posting soon.

In the meantime could you all be absolute darlings and take a look at my friend’s questionnaire for her dissertation? It’s all about LGBTQ representation in relation to television. It’s short and straightforward and it would be awesome if you could fill it out! 😀 https://www.surveymonkey.com/s/JVXZ9GW

Enough of a plug, I’ll be back soon! 🙂