What a fucking year.

I think, and I bloody hope, I will never live another year as difficult as 2012. For a start, I really started to believe the world was going to end last week and all I could do was weep and ask myself why it had to end this way, with everything so shit.

The world didn’t end. But everything is still shit.

Heartbreak, rejection, isolation, loneliness…

Panic, worry, fear, doubt…

I’m hoping to leave that all behind next week. Because I have something to look forward to.

An appointment.

The appointment.

On 12th January 2013, I’ll be seeing Dr Seal, at GenderCare. He’s the endocrinologist, and the one with the power to prescribe me testosterone. It’s another £200 pounds, and a two and a half hour journey but I think I’ll be walking away from there with a prescription in my hand or one waiting for me in Brighton. And when I get it in my hand, I’m going to wait.

For once, along this process, something will actually be within my control. And that will be when I get my first shot of T. It will be when I want to, and when I am ready to. It could be on the same day. But it won’t because GP’s aren’t open on Saturday. It could be a few days later, or a week later, even a month later. But I’ll know. There’s no pressure, there’s no one I’m waiting to hear back from. There’s no one I have to get ‘approved’ from, or ‘diagnosed’. No one has to accept me. This is for me. This is all for me.


Oh god, I can feel myself smiling. I’ve resented happiness for so long, and now I can feel it coming, I don’t quite know how to accept this. Misery and sarcasm should do the trick. It feels good know to think where I could be next month. But it’s still fucking terrifying. That changes are going to be happening really soon. I’m feeling all this doubt I never knew existed. And I know now what I’m afraid of.

What if I don’t recognise myself?

I don’t know how many ways I mean that in. I’m scared of change. It’s always daunting, especially when things have been a certain way for such a long time. I know how I want to look, but I can’t control how I will look. I know the change is gradual, it’ll take years for me the effects to fully come through. But there’s going to be a day when I wake up and I won’t recognise who’s in the mirror. There’s going to be a moment when I answer the phone and I won’t know whose voice came out of my mouth. I’m going to feel different, my body will change, and I’m going to move differently. You always notice the little things don’t you, like the effect of festive eating on your waistline. It’s not obvious but you can feel it. You know it’s there. And you want it gone.

What about people I don’t see that much? My family. What if they don’t recognise me the next time I go home? I know they’re already feeling a bit alienated. Or maybe that’s just me. I think it’s just getting used to the way someone looks. Like if a curly, long-haired friend shaved their head. They’re still them, just a little alien looking. And just for a while. And then you adjust.

Am I ruining all these memories of me? Graduation photos, family portraits, baby videos… My family won’t be able to see me now. It’ll be like I disappeared.

What about my mood? There’ll be all these unfamiliar feelings of anger, irritability and rage. Will I be able to keep my cool? I’m going to end up making a lot of terrible, impulsive decisions. It’ll be like I’m PMS-ing all the time. And what about sex? I’m just going to want to have sex all the time. I can’t do that. I’m not fit enough. Will I want to be? Will I want to just run for miles? And then eat for days?

I think the increased appetite and putting on weight is going to be hard for me. I’ve not had the best relationship with food, and I know a lot of my body issues revolve around weight and wanting that ‘straight-up-and-down’ boyish figure. It hasn’t happened, but I don’t think I’d notice it even if it had. I’ve pushed myself a lot this year, and I feel like I’m the happiest I’ve been with my body for a long time. Of course, it doesn’t actually make me happy. It makes me ill. But to have something out of my control, this hormone in my body, messing up with this balance I’ve got… It will be hard. Food is so easy to control. I know my body. And now, it’ll be different. It won’t be someone else’s body… It just won’t feel like mine for a while.

Or maybe it will. And it’ll all just fit into place. That’s probably a better, brighter way of looking at things.

I never bothered with New Year’s Resolutions, but I think I need to remember a few things for next year.

  1. Keep fucking blogging.
  2. Someone is always listening.
  3. Never forget who you are.