Not Unexpected..

I called the GIC this morning still holding onto the referral letter like I am afraid it will suddenly disappear if I let it go. I tell them I have a letter from my GP and he said I should just turn up with it and they said no that isn't how it works. I am not really surprised, I felt it was wrong all along but I really was hoping against hope that I could just magically just turn up with a letter and then I could start getting things done. Well it is an important lesson for me to listen to the people who have already gone through this and not my GP, funny how when in a situation where I am unsure of myself, I almost always automatically defer to the nearest person of authority even if I do not trust that person knows what they are doing. It's a dangerous trait, one that could get me into all sorts of trouble.

Luckily the letter he has given me is not completely useless, I can send it in and they will have it on record for me and use it to contact my GP so it sort of like half of the puzzle key. The other half is to get a referral to a local psychologist, I suspect this could take quite a while so I will need to get onto that, but at least I am doing something I think that is also part of the battle for me. I allowed myself some dreaming yesterday. Wandering through the sites of FTM's who have been through or are going through their journeys. I was excited at the prospect of that being me one day but also sad. The more I look at this the more I want to go forward with it and the more I realize that I have a lot to loose. Those questions won't ever go away I don't think and the thought of no longer being part of the lesbian community because I don't look like a woman anymore is deeply painful. I hope in the time it takes me to change, things will have moved on a little for us and that this trend toward fracturing in the Queer community finally has it's day and we can all just be queer together.

Post Appointment

What a unexpectedly beautiful day, so clear up there that it feels like you could see all the way to the other end of the universe. I'm looking out the window of my front room, it's darker and quieter in here and darker and quieter in me thinking about how I will talk to my GP about getting referred to start transitioning, though I feel like I'm doing that all the time. I'm unsettled by it all, that the day should be so clear and so beautiful and I should feel so unsettled and disquieted by this. Am I taking steps forward or steps back, is this brave or is it copping out? I can't decide I need help to decide, this is why I am doing this. I feel impatient about some things like the idea of having top surgery, reticent about others like taking hormones. It's funny don't you think that I would feel less concerned about major surgery than an injection?

Walking down the street and it's like I am suddenly noticing men and women for the first time. How they walk differently, look around differently, hair, body parts, I feel like some sort of alien looking at humans for the first time. I my vision slightly tinged with panic, words running round and round in my head, how do I tell this stranger probably one of the most personal things in my life, something I haven't even dared to speak out loud for the last 20 years. How do I explain this, what if he doesn't believe me.

I sign into the doctors office it's one of those new touch screen sign in thingymajiggs, I haven't been in a GP surgery for almost 10 years, they have come along way in making sure the patients do the work, not so much with the waiting times though. I sign in and find myself hesitating over the question am I male or female, I don't know how to answer this question anymore. I know what I want to answer but I think of all the confusion and questions that will probably follow and I reluctantly touch the screen, I feel like a traitor and a fool all at the same time.

The screen says the doctors running -32 mins so I look around for something to occupy my time with reading but there is nothing. I sit there just me and the lady in the burka, who eventually gets up and after a confused exchange with the more pleasant but less than helpful receptionists she leaves the office. I am alone now in this waiting room, waiting for my name to skip across the moving LED panel and tell me to go to room 2, it's always room 2, I don't actually think there are any other rooms here. I sit there reading the moving adverts that tell me to go have a smear test or let the surgery know if I have changed my mobile number ( spelt mobil, should I tell them it's spelt wrong, I don't think they would care ) and wondering how am I going to explain this.

Eventually the sign beeps and tells me to go to room 2, I walk down the hallway and knock on the door. "Come in." Old habits die hard I've never been able to walk into a room with a closed door without knocking first. There he is, sitting at his cluttered desk, watching some sort of video on a computer screen I can't see and he is very careful to make sure I can't see it. It sounds like a movie of some sort and I find myself trying to work out what they are saying but he calls my attention back to the room and indicates he is impatient to get to the point. GP's they are all business no chit chat, in a way I am grateful for the conveyor belt approach as it means generally that as long as you are confident about what you want you get it, but it is still not easy to say the words and what words. He looks at me impatience growing in his face and I still sit there. I look at him, a tall man of African decent, his accent tells me he didn't grow up here, maybe a blessing I think. Round his neck glints a crucifix so tiny dangling there made even tinier by his huge neck but it may as well be the biggest thing in the room. The words still sticking, he coughs gently, his face is not angry, it is a mask of any emotion and yet it is gentleness I sense in him despite his unremarkable GP manner.

Deep breath, "OK, have you ever heard of the term Transgendered?" I look him dead in the eye, I dare you to scowl at me, dare you to rebuke me, dare you to throw these words back and send me out. He looks at me, still no expression of any real note I am impressed by his control. He nods and says he has and then taps some keys and says he must refer me to the Gender Clinic, I am taken aback by his reaction. I am not really sure what I was expecting, I feel embarrassed, deflated even, unsure of what to do next. He says he needs to have my full records first to see what I have had done and I tell him nothing I want to start the transition process and he says he can write me a referral letter to the Gender Clinic at Charing Cross Hospital and I can take it in myself.

I feel confused, "Can I do that?" He seems confused by my confusion and seems to think I can, so I say yes I can do that. He asks just to be sure "So you are a woman and you want to be a man." I look at him, I want to say a million and one things, I won't say the word man, I just say male, I nod and say yes. He asks "Is this something you have always felt or did something happen to bring it about?" I look confused, I'm sure, I think what possibly could happen to someone to make them suddenly wish to do this? I say no I have always identified as male. Again "So you are a woman and you want to be a man." I say well this body is female, I won't consent to calling myself a woman, I've never thought of myself that way and being asked outright, I realize I never have. "Have you had any difficulties in your life with this?" I almost laugh, if it wasn't for the fact that he seems completely sincere when he asks me these questions I would outright laugh in his face for them. I say well of course it is not easy living this way and mutter something about having to deal with depression because of it. I don't want to go into my long and sordid history, I don't think he wants to know either so I decide to save it for someone else, I'm not sure who but I don't think it's him.

He finishes typing out the letter of referral and prints it out, sticks it in an envelope and addresses it to the Gender Clinic, I watch him as he does this thinking he has nice handwriting, kind of artistic and it reminds me of my fathers handwriting. I can't seem to look at him anymore and just keep staring at the posters on the wall. He hands me the envelope and give a little smile saying there you go, a good smile one that's trying to say I am trying to look like I want to be kind and helpful to you. I say thanks and smile back, and for a moment I want to give him a hug and shake his hand and say what a great man he is for being so calm about it all, but then I think better of it and just walk away with my letter clutched tightly in my hand. Now what? I get home ring the number for the Gender Clinic but it is too late and the phone just rings and rings and rings. I will try tomorrow maybe.

I still feel unsettled though, like nothing is really set in motion by this, I take all my nervous energy and use it to clean the flat do loads of laundry and then go out and buy containers and organize my food cupboards. I feel like I should feel like something is set in motion, instead I feel like I tripped over my feet as the starting gun went off. I find myself being afraid that I am gong to get through to the clinic and they are going to tell me I've done it all wrong and I need to go back. If I do then I will no big deal so I don't know why that bothers me. I guess I feel like I should know what is going on that I should of left there with some sort of roadmap, you know like 6 months see Psychiatrist who will work out if you are crazy in the right way or not, 12 months change name legally, take T something like that, but then nothing works like that does it..

Take 2

Well I managed to get myself up this morning and headed off to the GP, not feeling the best anyway so it won't be a wasted trip I think. The receptionist was very pleasant today unlike the time before maybe it was the sunshine and the warm weather who knows but it was good to not have to do battle with and angry receptionist about why I missed the fist appointment.

So to my surprise she offered me an appointment today, which I took before I could think about it. Now here I am sitting at home on a truly spectacular day in my dark front room, worrying about not saying the right thing to get my referral. I mean I am not in the business of being dishonest about my gender identity but I know that in a system one must meet the requirements of that system to get what one requires, do I meet those requirements? Do I tick the magic boxes? What are the magic boxes? Can my GP refuse just because he doesn't agree with what I am trying to do? Do I even need to ask for anything more than a referral and not even mention my gender issues? So many questions, even more than the ones here. All I can do is trust that what ever it is that occurs I am able to deal with it.

If at first..

I'm going to try again, get up tomorrow and go down to the doctors and make an appointment to get referred and not forget or avoid going in anyway. I am worried though that he will not refer me. Am I supposed to say some sort of magic combination of words that opens the secret door to transition? Who knows? Guess we will just have to wait and see, I have decided to try and take that approach with this whole thing from reading other peoples experiences this takes a bloody long time and I need to be prepared to let things take a long time. I know I can be impatient when I get something into my head that needs to be done. I'm a feet first kind of guy who doesn't hold back because I could be dead tomorrow so I may as will give it a full measure.

I tend to take that approach with a lot of things in my life, when I was younger I watched a lot of people give up on a lot of things ( myself included ) some made it and some didn't and I guess that has kind of left me with this might as well do it now because tomorrow may be too late kind of ethos. Well for some things anyway. For others I will procrastinate till the end of days because I am afraid of a million and one things that could happen some I want some I don't, but I guess most people are like that really. So yes tomorrow, tomorrow I'll give it another go, stop worrying about the what if's and the what could happens and just get on with it. Hop back on the treadmill and get a running.

Moments.

I went out the other night with a friend of mine, I'd had a terrible day and he and I went out to party like rock stars as we do every now and then. Needless to say he is one of my favorite people to go out with. So it's about halfway through the night we've hopped in and out of a number of places and I am getting pretty drunk and not really even keeping track anymore.

I don't know how it started but I remember the conversation turns to using male toilets. I tell him about it being one of my big fears being caught out in a male toilet and people being pissed off and maybe even more for me going in and using them. I am constantly challenged going into female toilets but it doesn't bother me in the slightest in fact I kind of like it because it means to me they think I am a guy ( which of course I am ). So anyway I tell him about someone I talked to about this a while ago who told me that he would make fake noises in the cubicles in order to not seem odd for using them in the mens. He thought this was funny and announced that he used the cubicles all the time and didn't think twice about it and in fact he really didn't think anyone in the mens toilet would care at all.

I must of looked surprised and I admit I was and it did leave me thoughtful for a while until the next round of drinks and some more dancing and I thought no more of it. Later on I announced I was going to pop to the loo and he grabbed me by the hand and lead me into the mens. Initially I was shocked, half expecting a pack of angry men to appear out of nowhere and pounce on me, but no one did no one even batted an eyelid. We stood in line with other men waiting for a cubicle and when my turn came he ushered me in. No bolts of lightning from above no mobs, no fuss I had to laugh at myself a little.

Thank you.

A change is as good as a rest

Well I've been off out in the wilds these last few days and it has truly given me a chance to just take a breath and be myself and not think about anything to do with my body or gender. I went out to a festival ( my first ) and camping ( my first time ) with a few friends of mine who I am very blessed to have because they let me be me in a very unique way. I can be whatever I want and they still very much full of affection for me and I pay them the same courtesy. I suppose that sounds trite to some, used to death, beaten to it's corner, but these are the breaths of fresh air that remind me that it's OK despite all these questions and trying to work out who I am and what I am about. There are some pretty incredible people in my life who think I am pretty dam special and I need that.

When I am swimming about in my mental drama's and turmoils as I am want to do at times, I can get myself back to ground by remembering that there are some very cool and beautiful people out there who think I am pretty cool and worth being around and they don't give a monkey's what gender I am or if I decide to dye my hair pink and start wearing mini skirts. These are the people who make my life worth living, I spend a lot of time worrying about what people will think, how they will react, that I may hurt people with my decisions. These people are the people who tell me it's not about them, it's about me and it's my life and my self who has to ultimately live with this stuff these people are my gold, my treasure and I can't imagine not having them in my life now I have them there. It's funny that we stumble upon each other by accident almost, there is no expectation that at that moment you may meet someone you will truly love for just being them and that they will love you back. This isn't about being lovers, it's not sex or attraction in that sense, but it is deep and sometimes uncomfortably intimate ( for someone who is used to keeping people at a distance ) but it's not something I ever want to walk away from.

Afraid..

I am afraid, afraid that you think I came across this easily, that somehow it is some childish whim, this dialectic between body and mind. I am afraid that because I cannot find the words to tell you, that the best I can do is point dumbly at a TV screen when something similar to the way I feel comes on. That you see me as some kind of perverse child pointing out the latest toy of obsession from the Saturday morning advertisements. That I am somehow playing with fashion, a desire to be special and cool like the other kids. Not that this has wriggled around inside me for decades, that it eats away at my flesh from day to day. Each time some stranger sees me, the not me, not the me, each time a friend calls me out exposes my un me ness to someone I have just met and am hoping for a second or two that they may see the me ness and know me thus.

It is like I am a boy in a dress, I know I am a boy yet everyone can only see the dress. They do not care that I walk and talk and feel like a boy, they only know that girls wear dresses and so I am a girl. I cannot take the dress off, at least not easily and I am afraid that if I do take off the dress then I will loose a part of me I can never have again. What does it all mean, what does this mean? Am I imagining this? One day I am sure I want to take the dress off and the next I am clouded with confusion, drowning in questions and self doubt. Waiting for some magic answer to answer all my questions and set me down on the road I need to travel.

It's not like this body and I do not share intimacy, we have shared the same space for 30 odd years now, felt the same joys and pains. We have known love and self destruction together and survived and although I know it is not mine I cannot deny like my oldest of friends this body knows me. It bends to my will, whether it wants to or not, whether I want it to or not. I am afraid that if I finally give in to this need to change this body I will be doing it for the wrong reasons. Afraid that in change I will become part of the problem and not the solution. Where does my responsibility lie? And yet here I am again and again and again, the same question, the same need to rid myself of this body and find my body, to keep this body and learn to live with this my body. Over and over again, I am exhausted by it, demoralized that I have come so far and yet it is the same set of questions over and over that I still cannot answer.