See it wasn’t that hidden was it.
On this page I have decided to post some sections from my private Journal. I thought it may be of interest to other transgender people just starting their Journey.
Note I’m NOT a medical practitioner, always seek professional advice before doing anything that will impact your health or mental wellbeing.
This is very long and spans well over 2 years. It touches on where my head was at before even admitting I was trans through to the 1st summer of coronavirus pandemic. It is not a story with a happy ending, but it does highlight the pros and cons of one persons experiences living a trans life.
Post was written – 2nd January 2018
It’s a fact we all see life differently. Our ideas and prejudices are formed by our life experiences. Every aspect of our existence is viewed through our own unique perception lens. Look around you and even within groups you call family or friends you can find yourself reaching a different conclusion on the most basic things.
The social fabric of everyday life is held together by general consensus. We have determined generally what is ‘right’ or ‘wrong’, but even within the laws we feel benefit all, there is a lot of grey area.
What was once ‘ok’ may now be deemed immoral, even illegal. And what was once illegal can be viewed as normal, even commonplace.
So if you agree with that, what of mental health?
In a world where the moral landscape can shift slowly over centuries or quickly over years, what about mental health? When do eccentricities become labelled madness and vice-a-verse? When should society step in to stop some behaviours and validate and even encourage others? We don’t really label people mad anymore, it’s not the done thing and to be honest it’s not very helpful either. In the past some of the greatest ideas that changed the world were written off as madness and those who come up with them delusional.
Nowadays, things that we deem unacceptable in ‘normal’ people are tolerated in those we deem as mentally disabled or ‘challenged’. ‘They’ are not expected to act like ‘us’ nor are ‘they‘ chained to a cell wall and left to rot. Neither are ‘they’ burned at the stake for being possessed as they would have been in the past.
So how would you expect to be treated if you feel a little low, depressed or even suicidal? What if you started hearing voices in your head or seeing things you have been told aren’t there? I would expect you would want to be treated kindly, be listened to, asked questions and even offered options of treatment. And on top of that have someone keep an eye on you and offer help if things become more difficult.
I am sure most of us think that sounds right and proper. However, less than you would hope receive such help. The fact is effective treatment of mental health is still not given even in 2018 and to be honest in my experience neither is effective diagnosis. Some people will attend doctor time and time again, and never be able to effectively communicate what’s wrong with them. Often because they look well, dress smart and speak coherently a doctor may often miss the subtly cry for help and who can blame them … doctors are not mind readers and they are busy people. They don’t have the time to tease the truth from us especially, if we are so embarrassed about ‘what’s wrong’ that we even often conceal the truth from ourselves.
I tell you this because I just made another appointment with the Doctor because I just can’t take it anymore’. My suicidal thoughts are increasing, as is the clarity of how I may achieve them. My thoughts are dark and hope has ran out. No one understands what is wrong and while I have my secrets, I can’t willingly explain them in a way that makes any sense. My need to make everything into a joke makes it almost impossible for people to see that under the mask I have cracked up and see little point to anything.
Do I believe the doctor can help? Sadly, nope! Over the years I have seen doctors and therapist. I have begged to be fixed. Yet after years of pills and recommendations I am no further forward. Over that time I’ve been labelled as ‘possibly bipolar’, ‘low mood’ or as ‘claiming to be depressed’ while showing no outward signs of being so.
I want to be ‘fixed’, I need to be ‘fixed’ but I expect little to nothing from yet another doctor appointment. Doctors are often the gatekeepers to the real people that could help and sadly even those people have often fallen short. If all I get again is words of concern and little action, I will be decimated and will once again feel totally lost. That is nothing new for I have been stumbling around in the dark for decades acting out a role which helps me survive, but never really live.
Post was written -January 5, 2018
So sadly the doctors appointment went as planned. I was given a CD to help with my stress levels and was told that I was going to be referred once again to a psychiatrist, but as usual the waiting list is very long. So who knows when I will see said psychiatrist.
Once again I failed to make it clear just how lost I am. I am not sure how a stress CD will help someone thinking about constructing and using a gallows, other than maybe as the rope tightens on my neck I will be very chilled. Of course I’m being facetious. If I had displayed more classic signs (whatever they may be) of potentially suicidal tendencies, I would have been given direct intervention. Maybe it’s just a fact that while I feel truly lost and that my life is worthless, I hate myself and everyday is just filled with despair, that’s just ‘normal’ or at least not sufficiently scary to justify me being restrain for my own safety.
The fact is I cried for help and all I got was a bloody CD!!! lol. Of course I am not going to listen to it as I know all about how to be at peace, meditation and self enquiry which this website should, after all these years, testify to.
I don’t want a bloody psychiatrist, I need a software upgrade. I think psychiatrists are great for people that don’t know how to strip away at the layers of their life. I do. I splay all my life before me regularly. I know my weakness, I know my fears, I know what’s wrong with me. I am just not strong enough to act on it so the free-fall continues.
Written on 21 January 2018
Secrets and Gender
This is my 52nd year on the planet, and a bit like Doctor Who, I feel I’ve had more than one incarnation in those 5 decades. Luckily, I am blessed not to look my age. But the truth is I am getting old and my past at times seems like it belonged to a different person. A person, who at times, I feel great sympathy for and at other times flat out despise.
Despite on the surface projecting a typical male-centric look and lifestyle, the truth of who I am on the inside has bubbled up numerous times over my life. Often the feminine me has been operating unobserved and unchecked all the way back to my preschool life, not that my poor old head can recall much from back then.
I have always been attracted to feminine energy and find it hard to relate to my ‘male peers’. I have been able to cover my obsession for all things fem as just being a typical man who admires the female form, but I was never lusting after the models in the magazines – I wanted to be them. I fully understand that some boys and men are more in-touch with their feminine side, which is a good thing as it helps keep the world just a little less male-centric.
I know the toxicity of the testosterone running through my veins. I know the anger and hate it can project. The testosterone fuelled compulsions were often an anathema to me. Not only did this hormone sculpture my body all wrong for me anyway, but it created a schism in my brain which at times would lead me to the point of ‘madness’.
But I am getting ahead of myself. Few people that knew me or even know me now, would guess I was trans. But that is simply because they didn’t know my whole secret life. They could not see inside my brain, they could not see or did not choose to see the pain in my eyes.
A lifelong battle hiding the ‘real’ me. The never ending, lonely internal battle all trans people have fought for centuries. This is nothing new, despite what social media may have you believe. Okay maybe the terms ‘ Trans and gender dysphoria’ are relatively new, but whatever you want to call what I am, good or bad, it has been happening ever since people decided to name and stereotype genders.
I guess, many could say I am just jumping on the ‘band wagon’ of transgender ‘popularity’ .. Oh yes! the abuse and potential mind shattering public embarrassment, where do I sign up? I am so excited…. NOT!
No actually I have known from as early as 5 yrs old I was different. I never heard of transgender or non binary in 1971 and neither had many other people. For me, the most accurate description for my predicament is like being mentally geared up to go on a space walk, only to find out at a certain point, you’ve been given an incorrectly calibrated suit for the job. You can’t do the walk as you will die. Your purpose stops. Not because you don’t possess the information required or general skill set, just because someone at mission control screwed up. So everyday you watch all the other astronauts doing their things you know how to do, but you simply never , ever get to float in the wonder of who you really are.
1976 was a big year for me. Not only did I make it to the age of ten, much to anger of the playground bullies, but I went to see the film ‘At the Earth’s core’ with dad. The film was fun for a kid of the 70’s but …wow ‘Dia’ played by Caroline Munro was amazing. While the character was probably just eye candy for the men, for me the character not the actress awoke me to a new concept for me:- a strong female. The picture of ‘Dia’ from the cinema film review magazine took pride of place on my wall. Everyone believed this was my first ‘crush’ but in truth this was my first role model. I wanted to be a strong, sexy, independent warrior and for a day-dreaming school boy that never really thought about limitations, this seemed completely normal and do-able. Poor little soul, how you would be so disappointed for the next 40 years.
In 1992, my soon to be wife went home to America for six months. During that time, I finally decided to explore my feminine side to the full, even with my ‘spacesuits’ notable flaws. I brought fem clothes and make-up, so I could best adjust the errors mission control had left me with. It felt great to finally just be the me I wanted to be.
I looked into my ‘unique’ problem that I had never sharing it with anyone and discovered that I wasn’t alone. Other people, both male and female, had also been given the wrong suit, but then I discovered you could change the suit (ok let’s drop those analogies now)
You could change your body? My mind was blown. This changed everything. I finally had hope. I had no idea how much it would all cost or the risks, I just knew I wanted to do it. I remember phoning my fiancée and telling her I wanted to become full fem and I was going to have to corrective surgery … surprisingly she was supportive. If I had only been brave enough, I would have lived as the real me for over 26 years now.
Everyday during that summer was bliss for me. As soon as I finished work, on went the real me clothes and I discovered more and more about my ‘problem’ … Then I awoke to the realisation what this really meant … not for me, but everyone I knew.
I new, I could be brave enough to take the step to being the fem me fall time, but I wasn’t brave enough for everyone else it would affect. My family was as conservative as they come. My dad couldn’t even grasp homosexuality let alone Trans femininity. It would have shattered them. And I thought it would have meant the end for my soon to be wife and I. I now know I believed wrongly … Expand this out over friends and family and the burden becomes bigger and bigger. Everyone else’s happiness out weighed my own. I was too weak to be who I wanted to be. I failed myself and in doing so, I subjected myself to 26 years of misery, searching for something to fill my void which wasn’t a void at all. I was searching for something to sufficiently anaesthetise the real me.
My summer of joy was over and my life faded back to grey. I became fatter and very manly, which seems to be a typical Trans fem response for those afraid of being who they really are
So this is not a phase, it is a whole life of regret. A life of hidden pain being finally lanced today. I am opening my heart back up for business and turning my souls’ lights back on. I am trans non-binary with a strong tilt to the fem. I know I was born a boy and I would have loved to have been a girl but now after all these years I feel like neither and because of that I’m a freak even in the eyes of many conventional trans people , I may not be proud, but I am happy to finally be taking the steps out of this mental quagmire. Which without my admission will never be discovered by any doctor no matter how many sessions I attend.
This is the bravest thing I have ever admitted to anyone beyond me and while this is just a private journal, it’s a step. It feels a bit like both sowing the seeds for my libration as well as my destruction. Either way this must be done, I need specific help now and I need it soon.
Written on 19 April 2018
Last week, I had an appointment with a Private Gender Specialist Doctor in Edinburgh. It was a relaxed and friendly hour long meeting, which for me (read my past posts) was decades overdue.
The Dr was the first person, other than my wife, I had spoken to about my feminising wish. Upon relaying my 51 years of hiding the truth, I did inevitably end up crying. Strangely enough, I didn’t feel any of the shame and embarrassment I would usually experience showing my emotions to a complete stranger.
I was pleased that my wife was able to attend. She said seeing me so emotionally vulnerable helped to really hammer the point home. Once again what I was feeling was for real and our life was final taking this course. It is my perception, many wives and partners would run a mile when faced with the fact that their husband was going to start moving more to the feminine, fortunately my wife was as unfazed as she was 26 years before.
I do not wish to go into all the details of the appointment, other than to say, I was diagnosed with gender dysphoria. This was not surprising in the least for me, but it was important for me to hear someone say it to my face.
Because of my age and after years of actual significant testicular pain not ‘just mental dysphoria’, I had concluded sometime ago that a Bilateral Orchidectomy was going to be one of the main operations in my Fem transition. Simply put, it is the removal of both testicles, doing what many may seem as drastic surgery would have multiple benefits for me. It would remove the need for hormone blockers. It may also reduce the amount of oestrogen required for my transition or at the very least, let it operate in my body unchallenged.
It is my testicles coupled with testosterone that has brought me nothing but mental, and in the case of the testicles, physical pain for decades. After much research, for me at-least, a Bilateral Orchidectomy is a grand step in the right direction. It has far more benefits than it has potential problems. From aesthetics and physical comfort to the rage I had always related to testosterone battling my femininity and trying to prove that I was a ‘real man’ :-these things have got to go.
I am fully aware that this operation, while minor in comparison to full SRS ( Sex reassignment surgery), is not without risks or potential health problems in the future. While I know many older people go through the SRS operation, I personally don’t see that mentally for me it will improve my predicament . The testicles are the male driver and once they are gone, the peace I so desperately search for may finally descend. Face feminisation is far more important to me than messing around with old plumbing that no-one but my wife and doctors will ever see.
It seems to me, the hormones offer up the biggest health risk to all trans people long term. Like most drugs, everyone reacts differently to them. Side effects can range from virtually nothing to basically, well in some cases, death.
This is the reason I am going down the Orchidectomy route, because if the Oestrogen has too much of an impact on my health, I will just live without any hormones. Sure doctors don’t recommend this, but the way I see it is that there have been millions of eunuchs throughout history and many of them had long and as far as we know healthy lives.
One of the biggest problem is osteoporosis, which from googling appears basically inevitable without the correct hormones in your body. To be honest it seems like you can get it even with them. Osteoporosis can be delayed, held in check or avoided with vitamin D and calcium supplements. Once again I am not a doctor and everything I am stating is taken from web research,I take everything with a healthy dose of scepticism .
Because a Bilateral Orchidectomy is non-reversible, my next step is to get an evaluation of my sanity to make sure. To quote the spice girls ‘what I want, is what I really really want’ 😊 which is a frustrating but understandable part of the transitioning process. My wife offered to do the Orchidectomy with an xact-o knife, which was funny until reading that people really do try to do DIY castrations. Oh lord, I feel queasy just thinking about it ….till next time friends take care and be safe.
And Another thing….. I want to address the pink elephant in the room:- ‘Gender Dysphoria’ What follows is only MY VIEW. It has not been approved or signed off by the Transgender Lizards Death Cult (I jest …….or do I ….lol)
Sadly it seems obvious to say it but I don’t think many people get it … All transgender people have different needs and different levels of dysphoria. Gender dysphoria FOR ME is the distress and mental trauma I feel between my internal identity and my external appearance …..idealistic mumbo-jumbo?
Hang on let me finish. Unless you’ve been living under a rock, there has been much heated debate about dysphoria, much of it incredibly insensitive and misleading.
As much as the typical metaphor of a women trapped in a mans’ body for M to F (male to female) trans is banded about, this does little to convince or calm those that seek to turn this into a political topic that can be used to frighten the majority of people that wouldn’t know a trans person if they met one or apparently, if you believe YouTube, even dated one.
The media loves the trans topic because it is one of the last ‘them vs us’ stories they can get away with in our ‘supposed’ tolerant modern world.
Few non-trans people are willing to stand up for a group of so misunderstood and mocked, yet in all honesty I don’t blame them, if I wasn’t trans I wouldn’t even give this a second thought.
Trans people are misunderstood and that probably has a lot to do with how the media handles the topic. The only way most people even know about us is in headlines like ‘sad shemale takes own life’ and ‘20 stone truck driver becomes glamorous porn star’ These may sell papers but they do little to inform people on the decades of mental turmoil many trans people have had to endure.
Personally, I reject the ‘jelly moulding’ of transgender people even within the trans community. Trans people are just people like everyone else. We are all different. We are not one size fits all when it comes to our world outlook or body preference and we certainly should not be seen as a political movement.
I have to be honest, I really don’t care why I’m trans feminine. I really don’t care if Gender Dysphoria is a ‘real thing’ or simply scientists latest attempt to describe what they really don’t understand.
I don’t care if it’s all in my own head, if it’s just a metal imbalance like so many other strange things people do …..if it is – so what.
I am what I am and I am at peace with it. I find it deeply saddening that my peace brings so many unaffected people consternation and outrage.
I think if society is really going to burst a blood vessel over people who choose not to ‘act normally’ then this says more about society than it does about those it labels as ‘men in dresses’ or ‘girls in suits’.
I am too old to play word games, and having been bullied as a child for years for being different I have little sensitivity left when it comes to worrying how I fail to fit in with the political correct thought of today.
So forgive me, my trans friends, if what I have said offends or even hurts… We are, as I have previously stated, all different and this is just my view. If you are using your Dysphoria to move forward some geo political plan you ‘go girl or boy’, just don’t expect me to be there waving a flag.
Trans people should receive the same rights as everyone else, and if they don’t want us in ‘their toilets’ then fucking build non gendered toilets and let’s get on with our lives. Because I want to pee and don’t have time to wait for a ‘communist gender revolution’, comrades ( ok I’m jesting again…but I refuse to have my Trans life welded onto every Tom, Dick and Judys’ political agenda)
Written on 4 May 2018
As mentioned in my previous post, I need to have a psychiatric evaluation before the surgeon will perform my bilateral orchidectomy. This is an understandable safety net for the surgeon to stop potential lawsuits and any questions of wrong doing. As I have said before, because of my age and some other reasons which I will keep to myself for now, l am going down the private route with my transition.
So a few days ago, my wife and I drove to Glasgow to meet with a friendly and highly respected psychiatrist. Obviously, my wife didn’t come in for the interview and evaluation, but he did converse with her at the end of the meeting in a genuine manner and not in the ‘seen to be done’ fashion so common these days. The whole appointment was relaxed and unrushed.
Sure, I was still apprehensive and embarrassed to be sharing intimate details about my personal life with a complete stranger, but it was by no means as bad as I believed it would be. I was asked a bagful of questions. Some were related to my operation, transition, my thoughts on losing my ability to have sex and a whole host of unrelated questions that I guess just fleshed out who I am and my state of mind. He took a page full of notes, as well as £300 of notes from my pocket 🙂
He informed me that it was refreshing to talk someone so focused and grounded. I suspect that was just the polite thing to say. However, he did clarify that many people came to him on a whim, with no real clue what they were letting themselves in for. He intimated that some people saw it like getting a hair cut and if they didn’t like it, they change it again (as if you could).
I must confess, I am seldom amazed by the ignorance of fellow humans, but the thought of people getting to this office with so much naivety, did make me twitch. No wonder the process moves so slowly for many people, with doctors having to make allowances for the fools who are so blasé about the whole thing.
The upshot of the appointment was that I was found to be fully aware of what I was undertaking. I had planned the process down to perfection, knowing the possible pitfalls with coherent plans in place for all eventualities.
My next step will be to go back to the Gender Specialist in Edinburgh to review the report and discuss next steps.
Written on 15 June 2018
Yesterday, my wife and I took our latest trip to Edinburgh for another appointment at the gender specialist. Meeting with the doctor, we went over the psychiatric assessment together. The doctor confirmed that both she and the psychiatrist were happy for me to move forward with the bilateral orchiectomy surgery (testicles removal) and for me to start taking Oestrogen six weeks after the surgery was completed.
This is something I had been secretly waiting for since the 1990’s. It was determined that at my age pills were best avoided and that I should try the Oestrogen patches. These you stick on your tummy or bottom, and they slowly release into your body throughout the day. I was given a prescription and it was like I had just been handed a Willy Wonka Golden Ticket.
Then we discussed possible local surgeons that could perform the orchiectomy operation. We agreed on one surgeon who, I was told, whilst lacking a sense of humour and bedside manner was very good at his job. That sounded fine, I wasn’t going to see him for his personality, just his skills.
The hour long appointment once again was thoroughly relaxed, and for me life affirming. Just being able to talk to someone about my thoughts and wishes means so much. Using my savings to go private is not something everyone can do, but for me it was worth every penny not to feel like an inconvenience.
We picked up the patches on the way home just to make sure I finally had them in my possession
Written on 26th June 2018
Yesterday I went to see the surgeon about my Orchiectomy. Yes things really do move this fast when you paying for the service.We drove to Edinburgh during the rush hour, which I must confess got me in a bad mood. Alas my mood did not improve when I met the surgeon. His persona was so much less than I had even been told.
He barely looked up at me, just kept drawing diagrams on how he might best perform the surgery. He seemed very reluctant to perform the operation until I gave him the mental assessment, and even then he seemed unconvinced.
I informed him, putting the trans thing to one side, that I have had pain in that area all my life. Just over five years ago I had a cancer scare when calcium deposits where initially thought to be tumours and even at that point the consultants offered up a full testicle removal to stop the pain. He reacted little to this information.
Now I was getting quite grumpy. Everyone else had been so nice up-to now, I thought and hoped that my wishes would go unchallenged.I decided to have a go at flattery and a little dig… ‘I was told by my doctor that you are very good at what you do, but you don’t have a sense of humour?’ He actually stopped writing, then looking up giving his best attempt at a smile said… ‘of course I don’t have a sense of humour, I am German’. The permafrost was broken.
I then gave him the option of not performing the operation and looking elsewhere. I didn’t want to feel beholden to him or make him feel uncomfortable. He made it clear, after fully reading my notes, that he would perform the operation but he would not have done so without the psychiatric assessment.
Maybe I misread what he was trying to say, but it didn’t seem he was that convinced about the positives of this operation for me. But then again he hadn’t lived in my body and mind for the past 5 decades.
I am usually very good at reading people, but this guy was like an iron fortress. The surgery would be on July 6th and that was that.I wasn’t happy about the way the appointment was conducted, but my wife told me to suck it up ….‘You are getting what you want aren’t you? he seems to know what he’s talking about and wants to make sure he leaves you as scar free as possible.’ …
I was unconvinced…. Drawing testicle extraction diagrams on pieces of scrap paper seemed kind of weird. Surely he knew where they are and how to do this operation. 😂
Again my wife, the ever present voice of reason, said maybe he was shy and doodles why he is thinking or maybe he is just trying to see how to best perform the surgery without cutting you up.
That point did resonate with me as I had seen some very ugly pictures of scarring on the web. Such is my nature I reevaluated the appointment from all possible angles all night long and couldn’t make any angle sit well with me.
Oh well, I must get my head ready for the operation in 10 days time
The 12 month update – July 2019
I’m pleased to say that on the whole the past 12 months have been the best of my life. The overall effect oestrogen has had on my personality has been astounding. I am much more chilled and most of the time far more focused. Sure, I still occasionally get grumpy and angry, but these moods last for a 10th of the time they did. So from a feelings point of view this has been a total success.
I do cry a lot and I mean a lot! This can be for a multitude of reasons both happy and sad. I put the emotions down to my hormones not being balanced in a natural way but I may be wrong and not sure if the effects will decrease over time. My testosterone levels are now below 0.9 and I am at female levels for every other hormone lab test.
Sadly that is not the case when it comes to my body and appearance. In fact most people would not even be aware I am taking hormones. My wife can see all the changes: my face has softened as well as my skin, my hips and butt are slowly changing as the weight redistributes around my body, and I have very small and very painful breasts but still early days on that front; no pun intended.
My hair is a little thicker, the lack of testosterone does seem to be halting my receding hairline. Alas, as we knew, oestrogen has had no effect on stopping facial hair or changing voice pitch. I am very happy with my general progress, even if most people would not detect much difference in my outward projection.
27 Months :- the good, the bad and the very ugly!!!!
As of writing it is now 19th October 2020 the world appears to be falling off its axis and for the past year it could be said that I have Lost the plot when it comes to my feminine transition. Our personal circumstances have changed quite a lot over the past year and sadly not for the better.
My wife had an accident at work where she was exposed to large plumes of MDF board dust, kickstarting her fall out of remission from her sarcoidosis (please read her post on this disease). The incident put her into A&E and to be frank almost killed her. Some days later she was struggling to breathe again whilst out taking a gentle stroll. She became dizzy, and fell down the hill, managing to break her leg.
A month later our beloved dog ‘Woden’ passed away which was heartbreaking. And then my wife was relocated from the peaceful rural Scottish Borders to the overcrowded working coast of Cumbria: a very different life style altogether and not one my transgender self was ready or prepared to experience.
My wife’s health was in tail spin and I had to, (for want of a better description) ‘man-up’.
Whilst I never stopped taking my oestrogen, I did stop all work on my appearance. I became very androgynous. Hoodies, jeans and boots became the order of the day as I navigated this totally ‘new to me’ traditional male dominated and mentally conservative area of the country. I must confess to being at a bit of a loss
Some people would say I chickened out of presenting my true self and I will take that on the chin. I absolutely did.
It was stressful enough doing all the stuff with my wife who was in a wheelchair for nearly six months, navigating a new environment, dealing with macho bullshit, without having to face the derision and confusion presenting as feminine would no doubt cause in this part of the world.
Then came coronavirus. We started our lockdown on the advice of my wife’s doctors on March 9th. The official letter to shield came a few weeks later. Not being able to leave the house really does make you stand back and look at yourself and your life. I had let myself go. I was a wreck. I had forgotten who I was and who I wanted to be.
So I began the long journey back. I started walking around and around the house inside obviously to get some much needed exercise. This built up until I was doing 3 hours a day and actually dancing to 128 bpm music for most of it. I started eating better again and taking time out to look after my appearance . I lost 2 stone and just as I was at my happiest in a long time I injured my groin dancing. Whilst I felt only 17, my body decided to remind me I am clearly not. (only I could do something like that 🤣😅😆) And whilst it hurts like heck and will take about a month to heal, unlike the old me, I won’t give up this time. I will continue, although rather boringly, I’m back to just walking each day.
We have also decided we will be leaving this area and going back across the Border as soon as we can. After much soul searching, we both agreed that we were at out happiest living in Scotland. It just feels like home, a feeling both of us lost a long time ago.
In my life I seem destined to never be in a state of joy or happiness for very long, something always seems to come along and knock me back into reality. Though I must reluctantly acknowledge that, compared to others, I am doing quite well during this stressful time.
I know as I write, I still have a long way to go even after two years to get to where I wanted to be in my trans fem journey. But, I again, now have clear goals including FFS (Facial Feminization Surgery) next year, even if I have no idea how I will pay for this expense but vitally important (For ME ) last step in my transition.
I am glad to say my wife is still supporting me all the way and together we make a great team, getting each other through the ups and downs with our own unique brand sarcastic and silly humour.
The Journey of a transgender person is never easy and without humour as a companion I fear it can destroy even the strongest among us.
Good Luck if you just starting out