The First Appointment

The First Appointment

 

Sat in the waiting room I wished I had arrived on time and not fifteen minutes early. I spent most of that quarter hour struggling to think of anything but why I was there and pretty much failing to do so. Not even the stunning images in the National Geographic could take away the feeling I was about to face the inquisition

Given that I was edgy all went well and I have not been declared a total fruit bat. As far as gender reassignment goes it is a green light. A few things, that are unrelated, have come to light and have to be dealt with somehow. Not even sure I know where to start with any of them but they will be sorted. Now I have to see Doc M again on Friday to keep her informed as to what is happening. The psyche doc was okay, as okay as psyche docs get really.

As expected the stripping down of self has begun as they ask the deep questions no one ever wants to answer and just hearing my voice answer I was seeing one problem that has held me in its grasp too long – so time to dump it. It is not that easy of course, but I will find a way of letting it go. I do wonder what the purpose of some of the stuff they wanted to know is but I guess in order to rebuild the self one must first dismantle the old self.

The old feelings of isolation are back which is normal after a psyche session so I was ready for them.  It is a vicious circle I crave solitude yet do not like feeling alone. I need to talk to Sam and clear a few things up as he has been there and done it. Australia is so far away when you need ya best mate.

Fortunately I have lots of research to do for STGG to drag my mind back into the world a bit – the kicking and screaming brain will have to get used to it. STGG is my lifeline at this point as I can focus on other people and not myself. It is also educational for me as I can dig into Trans issues with a bit of journalistic distance as I am doing it for other people not myself so my eye and brain are that bit more critical. If I am feeling like I am the only one in the village someone else is too and we need to change that!

Finally a huge great thank you from the heart to all those of you who sent me messages of support this week – thank you so very much, you really have helped me get through.

Love and light

Jeremy

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One Week to Go

one week to go

 

A week has passed since the letter hit the doormat and now there is only one week until the first appointment. In some ways it seems so far away – a whole seven days. In the same way that Christmas seems distant to a child on Christmas Eve I suppose. And yes that is a good analogy as I do have that childlike, innocent sense of wonder about what is going to happen and like a child no doubt the actual event will be disappointing after all the anticipation. I am prepared for that.

However I was not and am not prepared for the more negative emotions of fear, abject fear. I am even having crazy nightmares that I cannot explain. The best descriptive I can come up with is horrific and bizarre images flashing in to what starts of as a normal everyday dream and ends up in blood and guts with me falling apart. It is the nightmare the professionals refuse to hear me and tell me I am wrong – and I know that is my big fear and it has no basis apart from lack of logic when sleeping.  I do not suppose that will be much of a problem this week as I know my psyche is edgy so sleep will not be easy.

With all this self-doubt kicking in and I know it is just pre-appointment nerves when all is said and done, I tested myself this weekend and went out fully presenting. I normally wear a binder but have not gone out wearing packing for a long while. And really no one notices you are wearing one but I knew. Previous experience with this has been one of feeling incredibly self-conscious and uncomfortable but not this time. This time I felt it there and it gave me a real sense of confidence in myself as a guy. That alone gives the use of packing a real purpose and a justifiable one. I do not have someone holding my hand saying all will be okay so I need to lift my own confidence levels in whatever way I can.

I need to be single right now because this stage of transition is very selfish in that the decisions I make now only affect me. They are decisions that will be hard enough without the added worry of how they could affect a partner. I cannot be pressured into feeling I must or must not do something because of someone else’s feelings. I am committed to staying single and that for the time being is as good as any marriage vow. I owe myself the same loyalty and freedom to be as I give those I love – yeah about time I worked that out really.

There is a week to go and I will update after the appointment – who knows things might make more sense – well at least a little bit. Thank you for reading, and as always your thoughts, comments and questions are welcome either in the comments section or via the contact me button.

Love and light

Jeremy

 

 

© J Farmer 2013

The Letter

The Letter

 

An extra post already but events require it. Today the letter from my doctor arrived confirming my referral to ‘The Laurels’ in Exeter. It also included my primary consultation appointment for 22 October 2013. This is not months away like we thought it would be it is just over two weeks away. I am excited, overjoyed, overwhelmed and terrified. I have no doubts about my need to do this journey; it is the fear of the unknown. However, it is not overshadowing the joy I feel. In a week that has been nothing short of torture emotionally a simple letter has brought me comfort.

 

As I intend to mark the progress points with a piercing or a tattoo I have scheduled a piercing for 23 October to mark the first major step towards Jeremy. This first step needs to be marked but two weeks is not enough time to plan a tattoo, although I do have a sketch in mind for a tattoo of transition.

 

I still wonder where this will all end and what I will become or end up with. I know it will be the person I am meant to be but it does seem strange I have no real idea who he is. I honestly feel like I am getting to know this person, me, for the first time all though I have known of his existence for most of my life. It is very similar to meeting a long lost relative. I get coy and shy at myself which may sound crazy and quite possibly is. Even meeting people I know well and feel comfortable with it is like meeting them anew as Jeremy and I am aware they also need time to accept or not the changes going on. I do not feel hurt if they refer to me as Jem or Jemmy, but oh wow the rush when they use Jeremy – I have no words to describe that.

 

 

 

© J Farmer 2013

First Steps

Invisible Man by Carlton Chuck

Invisible Man by Carlton Chuck

The writer is back and his quill is at the ready. I have got myself back to where I like to be after the chaos of living with shattered hopes and new dreams. So pretty much the normal crap of living and being human.

My doctor is making the referral for transitional therapy, but it won’t be at Oxford as we had hoped. Instead it is Exeter. Oxford would have been convenient as it is only an hour away on the train but everything is in-house at Exeter so at least it will be the same place for the different therapies, it is just so far away.  Now it is just a matter of waiting for my name to hit the top of the list. The crazy run around is over for now, and the journey to Jeremy has begun. Meanwhile the doctor has put me on additional dietary supplements to enhance testosterone production naturally. Time will tell on that I guess.

This journey into the unknown has been on the map of my life since childhood. Those early memories of uncertainty in not being in the right place, of not belonging to the world or me were the first signposts. I am at the start of a new road having stepped through the doorway into the outside world with nothing in my backpack.

I feel naked and exposed yet I am fully aware that I have yet to be stripped completely and that is to come. I am laughing one minute and breaking down in tears the next. I feel overwhelming joy and hope mingled with the deepest of sorrows. I feel like I am mourning a passing and celebrating a rebirth at the same time.

I heard the word transgender – I am transgender, a man held captive inside a woman. In that I am certain, it is something I have known deep down since I can remember. When I said it out loud to the man I see in the mirror I invited him in to existence. He is not some visiting angel others have said I saw nor is he my imaginary friend – he is my true identity.

I have been catapulted from a state of limbo, not knowing where I am going, into the reality of the transgender world. The words that have for so long been pie in the sky on a web site or leaflet are now part of my everyday life. Testosterone, self-injecting, voice therapy, behavioural therapy, passing, presenting, gender identity – all once just words that now form my transition.

Then the big word itself – mastectomy. Not as a cure for the invasion of cancer but as a release from my past life passing as a woman. Simple fact I have spent the best part of 47 years trying to pass as a woman instead of accepting the truth and becoming the man I am meant to be. Top surgery is the biggest step for me as binding down a DD cup bust is at best uncomfortable, at worst bloody dangerous. The buxom breasts of a woman have been my bondage for too long.

Lower surgery is the big don’t know of the whole process. This is when I want to rush back to the gender neutral which is no longer available to me as it has gone. I have no choice now but to go with the flow of transition and see where it takes me.

My emotions are spiralling out of control, yet I know all is okay. I want to be alone, but I don’t want to be. I need a hug but I will not take one. Love is off the agenda until I feel safe again, if I ever feel safe again. I don’t know who I am or who I will be, I feel undefined. I am a piece of wet clay waiting to be moulded by the hands of destiny.

This is a journey into the unknown; the journey; my journey to manhood.

© J Farmer 2013