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