Category: Rants

Tired of Fighting

I haven’t written anything for over two months now and believe me I have tried but in recent times things have gotten so much that I can’t express myself. I can’t get things off my chest and easy my own troubles by sharing them with whichever anonymous readers wish to read my posts. Everything has been bottled up inside because I have had no choice, I have had to keep my problems to myself. Life has been a real struggle as of late. My Boss and good friend got fired and I haven’t been able to speak to him since then. The one guy at work that was keeping me grounded has gone, whereas being at work is certainly preferable to the toxic environment of the family house, I say house because it isn’t a home to me anymore. Being at work with no one to ground me or to turn to and confide in or calm me down when someone sets of one of my triggers is leaving me living in a perpetually stressful state. When I am stressed I can’t write, I can’t draw, I can’t sing, I am trapped and have no way out. There are so many days that pass and I wish, and I pray that I can just be a normal person. Don’t get me wrong I am glad that I discovered myself and who I am, but not a day goes by when I don’t wish I was born with body and soul matching. There isn’t more than a week that passes by without contemplating suicide. I hate having to fight so hard for what other’s take for granted. I am tired of fighting and I don’t know how much fight I have left in me. I wish I could wave a magic wand and be the man I am supposed to be, unfortunately this is the real world and not one of the many games I play to try and escape reality. As it is I have been waiting for over a year for a referral to the Gender Clinic, I found out recently that I was sent the paperwork to fill in, but they were sent to my old address where the bitch house mate didn’t forward my mail but instead destroyed it. I could already be halfway to HRT and surgery by now but I’m not. I turn thirty this year, how depressing is that? The older you get the harder the transition, I would sooner take my own life than spend the rest of it living as something I am not. Well I guess we shall see what happens. If no more blog entries appear here or the domain vanishes, you know what’s happened. I just hope I have the strength to carry on.



Not much a title but it pretty much sums up my post, a series of questions beginning why to which there is not answer, at least no satisfactory answer.

Why is it that only a month after coming out to my parents and them promising to support me in my choices that things have gone exactly back to how they were. No use of my identified name or male pronouns, being called a daughter instead of a son. It’s like nothing happened, that this huge step in my life is non existent. It took me a very long time to muster up the courage to come out to them and nothing has changed, the fact things have gone back to how things were makes it hurt all the more. They said they wanted me to be happy so why are they causing me more pain? I try to talk to them about it but they don’t want to know, they have no time for me. Am I really that much of a disgrace or embarrassment?

Why is it that people like me, trans* people have to fight tooth and nail to have a normal life, the normal life that everyone else takes for granted. Four doctors now and not one of them is taking me seriously. I’ve been packing and binding for two years, wearing male others longer than that, what else do I have to do to make the doctors take me seriously. Why do I have to fight to have a ‘normal’ life. I am so tired of fighting but I can’t give up. I have a right to be happy, and I can’t be happy when my mind and body are so mismatched. Why can’t a doctor take me seriously for once in my damned life, it’s got to the point where I would rather die than live out the rest of my days as female. So again I ask, Why?

Nine Years

Nine years have passed since the London Tube Bombings, and yet while I am thankful I made it through unscathed, I still feel guilty for surviving. Why did I make it and not someone else more deserving? It still haunts me, I think it always will. Though while I have moved on for the most part, there is still some fragment of me refusing to let go of the past. What doesn’t kills us makes us stronger… but scars run deep and some never fully heal.

Why is it that now everyone knows about 9/11 and will pause, a moment’s silence to remember those who died in the tragedy and help to those who survived but those that died and those that survived the subsequent terror strikes in London, Madrid and other places are all but forgotten? Damn it I was there and I refuse to let people to forget, was anything learned from what happened? I wish I knew.

Eurovision 2014

That time of the year has been and gone again and now won’t be back until 2015 where it will be hosted in Austria.

This year I ma aged to watch the broadcasts of the semis and the final, and anyone who has me on face book will have noticed my Terry  Wogan style commentary on the acts in my status messages. Some great acts and some bloody awful ones (like twin twin from France, even my French relatives hated them). It still really upsets me that the voting is still very much political in some instances and it’s upsetting that some backward and bigoted nations were calling for Eurovision to be cancelled because of one of the entries. Eurovision should only ever be about the music, yea like fuck had that will happen any time soon.

I loved the Russian entry it was a beautiful and moving song, it was just at the wrong time and in the wrong place, a song of peace sung against the political backdrop of Putin being a complete moron. So sad that the girls who sung got booed by the audience, and booed again when they got votes. They really didn’t deserve that, it’s not their fault Putin is a prat. On the other side of the coin, Russia,  Belarus and a few other nations had no right to call for Eurovision to be cancelled or boycotted or censored because Conchita Wurst was performing. Eurovision is supposed to be about the music you prats.

I’m really glad Conchita won, Rise Like A Phoenix, is a beautiful song. I would paste the song lyrics here but I can’t copy paste properly on this Kindle. I won’t be surprised if the song becomes a LGBT anthem, especially amongst the the trans* community. People like Conchita Wurst are an inspiration, to often society chokes and conceals people like this because they go against the norm. We need more people to be an inspiration to others but it’s difficult when you are fighting every step of the way. Well shit I got a lot of hassle and ridicule from my parents for calling up and voting for Austria, and had to deal with all the derogatory comments they made. I hate their double standards. It’s not okay for the likes of Putin to slang off Conchita but perfectly fine for them to call her ‘it’ ‘unnatural’ and ‘abomination’. It’s sickening, makes me sick to the stomach, makes me wonder how they will react to me when I come out eventually. Just hope that one day I will have the courage to do that, and not give a rodent’s rectum about what they think of me anymore.

Okay well I’m going vastly off topic now, so I will stop typing before I ramble off even further from Eurovision. I hope one day we can live in a harmonious world where people are not judged by their gender and sexuality, I doubt I will see that in my lifetime though, doesn’t mean I can’t hope.



Right it’s now April let’s see how I’m getting on…

1. Still losing weight, not sure how much as my scales are in a box in the parents’ garage. I’ve lost some inches from around my waist, I can tell this from the fact I need a belt to keep my kilt in place now. My sister is also dragging my down to her gym to sign up next week. This should be interesting as I normally hate gyms because I am so self conscious.

2. Smoking cigars again…. Not good. I’ve been so stressed out that I caved and started again. Now to reduce the number all over again.

3. Still doing well on this one, even though I now have more money I barely drink.

4. Still at a dead end, just don’t have the courage to face up to a different GP and run through the gauntlet of questions again. Still no referral and I’m starting to thing they don’t give a shit about me. Might be time to move GP practice. It’s getting to the point where emotionally I think I would rather die than live without transitioning. It’s getting harder and harder to hide my true self behind the mask my mother wants to see. Hiding is slowly but surely killing me inside.

5. Still failing miserably, it’s starting to look like I might be going back to meditating and doing workings in the bath tub. No room for an altar not that I would dare set it up in my parents house.

6. I have no time to myself now. Try as I might I put time aside for me to be me I can’t have me time because everyone else demands my time. At least I am not wasting it web trawling.

Let’s see how things change in a month’s time.

More specifically I wonder why I even bother with this that and the other. Since moving back in with my parents it would seem that no matter what I do I can’t do anything right any more, not even make a damned cup of tea properly. Would also seem that every Sunday has been ear marked as the day of the week my mother goes out of her way to ridicule me, make my life a misery and remind me that I’m nothing more than a piece of crap on her shoe.

She begs and begs for me to move back home promises that life would be better for me and yet here I am so close to relapsing into cutting myself to shreds again. Something I was sure I had left dead and buried in my past over a decade ago. So shit why did I let myself believe that living at home would be better? Perhaps I’m too much of a sap and clung too tightly to the hope it would be true, that for once I would be treated with respect and not looked down on. I wanted to come home and help look after my dad, instead it would seem that my sole purpose is to be the person who takes the blame for bad stuff happening, even when I am not the one to blame.

Shit would my mother care if I actually cut again and bled out, sure as hell doesn’t feel like she would. She never cared first time around, not even when my form teacher pointed out the goddamned cuts and scars all over my wrists. I am starting to wonder if my little corner of the world would be better off without me and if it would even notice if I was gone. Yes my friends and partner would notice, but how long before I’m forgotten?

Here ends today’s angry rant.

On the 9th of February this year my life changed again and I still don’t know if the change is for better or for worse. With a heavy heart I had to watch my partner of nearly eight years catch a coach and leave me behind. We had to give up our flat, our home of four years, because we couldn’t afford to live there any more. My partner was fired, fired for being autistic and for having a contracted minimum hours, all other staff at his place were zero hour staff. What makes it worse, we can’t prove it and the company concerned would not pay for a formal assessment or his autism or wait for the NHS to sort it out. He had been working for his company for close on six years, his autism was never a problem and he had a list of customers that would only come to him for help and advice because he knows the products he sold inside out and back to front so to speak. Well it’s the company’s loss.

So I watched him leave and I haven’t been the same since. He’s moved back in this his parents for the time being and I’m back with mine. I can’t sleep at night I miss the feel of my partner against me and I can’t get used to a single bed. What’s worse is I am back in that tiny box bedroom where I’ve tried to end my life in the past. Many years have passed since then but the memories are still raw and painful, I’ve become very numb on the inside. Most of the time I am so numb but swing to extremes of anger and frustration to depression and dark thoughts of self harming again. I’m supposed to be made of stronger stuff than this, but I just feel so trapped with nowhere to go. Yes, I am here to help look after my father too. He has prostate cancer you see. I just can’t be strong all the time. I put on a brave face and pretend to be the daughter my parents want me to be, all the while the man behind the mask is crying out, begging to be recognised and acknowledged. See, I’m not out to my parents as trans and hiding myself away again after being free for so long is killing me on the inside.

I’m rambling now anyway, goes to show how much of a mess I am right now. I wish I could see the light at the end of this particular tunnel, I could really do with something to keep my spirits up. Yes I know I will be reunited with my partner in time but the wait is taking it’s toll. I’m lost without him, so very very lost.

Right so how am I getting on with the resolutions.

1. I’ve managed to loose a good five kilos, go me.

2. I’ve not picked up a cigar since New Years, that has to be a plus.

3. Been too broke to drink so this one is going well too.

4. Ah yes, hit a stumbling block with this one, the GP I was talking to about transition doesn’t work at my GP practice any more. She moved to Ealing Hospital, now to try and summon up the courage to talk to another doctor.

5. Failed…. still neglecting my religious and spiritual side at the moment. I am going to turn this around.

6. Actually I am doing rather well, maybe because I’ve been packing in preparation to move house.


I’m doing better at keeping resolutions this year than I did last year, lets see if I can keep this up.

The first of January rolls around again, and I am quite happy to say that I am glad to see the back of 2013, it was a bad year for me. A really bad year.

Here’s a summary of the bad points.

Sexual assault, sexual harassment, failed examinations, doped up on meds as a result of prior trauma in my life rearing it’s ugly head, stuck in a relationship I can’t get out of, being in love with someone I know I can never be with, failing my exams, my partner loosing his job and me picking up the slack. All my savings being used to pay my other half’s short fall on bills. Transition has been delayed again, lymphodemia is getting worse, developed lipodemia as well. I started smoking due to all the stress, I have no privacy left any more, no personal space. Utterly neglected my spiritual side, don’t socialize with friends any more due to an overly possessive partner. My partner still treats me as a female not as the man I am supposed to me. Still refuses to address me by my chosen name or use male pronouns, way to exacerbate the self hatred the dysphoria already causes. Finally, my dad has been diagnosed with prostate cancer. I think the latter is the worst as I look up to my dad, he’s my go to for all my problems near enough. He has weathered so many things and was a prime example of a stalwart cockney, and now that image has been shattered because of a stupid disease that’s leaving him as a shell of the man he used to be.

So what are the pluses?

I came out to some of my friends this year, one of my oldest and dearest friends told me ‘It’s about bloody time!’ so you can’t imagine how good that made me feel. Some of my other friends have started referring to me by my chosen name, again that’s something that does so much for one’s self confidence and sense of self worth. The ball has started rolling for full transition but as with all things NHS it’s going to take time, however it’s started. These are only small things but it’s these little things that build up to bigger things in the long run. The arsehole that assaulted me at work got fired, my old boss is now my boss again. He came back to be our manager once more, and hell work is so much more enjoyable with him at the helm. It’s almost like the good old days are back, we’re just missing a few people but work is a fun place to be again, not a place that fills me with dread when I wake up in the mornings. I hope that this coming year will be filled with more ups than downs.

The obligatory resolutions

1. Loose weight, if I don’t I’ll be dead by the time I’m 40.

2. Smoke less cigars – I’ll never be able to completely quit but I can decrease the number I smoke.

2. Drink less – yea an entire bottle of mead/wine in a night is not good for you.

4. Get further down the road to full transition.

5. Don’t neglect my spiritual/religous side.

6. Make time of me, no more spending hours trawling the web for lack of anything else to do.

Lets see how many of these I can keep this year.

Recently I had to put my cat down, the poor chap had terminal cancer and it was the kindest thing to do for him. I couldn’t let him suffer. Anyone who has owned a pet and have had to put them down to end the suffering will understand what I mean and what I’m feeling. What I don’t understand is how other people can be so callous about the death of a pet.

For me my cat was more than just a pet, I raised him from a kitten and he was a constant companion, offering more to me in dark times than my family ever did. My cat knew when I was upset or needed company, something my family either never saw or turned a blind eye to. It was as if my cat was the only member of the family that actually cared about what was happening. There was an unquestioning companionship there, I didn’t need to ask for a cuddle or such from the cat, he would settle himself on my lap, stomach or occasionally my head if I was curled up in bed and he would  just purr and purr, occasionally sticking his claws into me to make sure I was still awake but that wasn’t an issue. He just knew when I needed a shoulder to cry on so to speak and there were many nights were the cat’s fur was sodden with my tears because I had no one else to turn to.

So why is it that my family can’t understand how much this cat meant to me, especially the callous bitch that is my sister. She turned round and said to me “Get over it, he’s just a cat.” That’s bloody rich coming from her, considering she was in a similar state when her cat died many years ago. My cat was sixteen when he passed on, that’s a good age and that’s over half my life time. The crazy old fur ball was a huge part of my life for such a long time, it’s no easy matter letting go of a part of your heart. Nice big hole there now that the cat’s gone, and it’s probably going to be there a while. What’s more heart breaking, he passed away Friday afternoon , by Monday morning there was not a single trace of his existence in the house, it was as if he had never been, not even the remains of a chewed up toy or strands of his fur on the carpet. The isn’t even in the ground yet and it’s like he was never there, it’s so hurtful.

Rest in peace Tom Cat, you crazy crazy fur ball. I’m going to miss you but at least now you are now in a better place free from pain.