GORN!

I HAVE MOVED TO TUMBLR BECAUSE IT WORKS BETTER WITH MY BLACKBERRY AND I ALWAYS HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY WHEN MY ACTUAL INTERNET IS DOWN

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GO THERE IF YOU WANT ME

The Phobia

I am currently working on an extreme case of needle phobia, because I have the elixir of life, I have the needles, but I cannot bear them. What a horror.

I was thinking other people may have a similar issue. I won't let it hold me back, but I know if I just go ahead and do it I may spazz out and fuck it up - I need to be calm.

First, I went to get the needles. That was bad enough. There was a wall covered in them.

Then I laid them all out, with the rest of the kit, beside my bed. I see them when I wake up and when I go to sleep.

Today I have been carrying one (a syringe with a capped, protected needle, still in it's sterile baggie) around with me. This in itself is a big step as I am starting to feel less sick at it's presence. I've nicknamed it Sting, because at one point early in the morning I was looking at my video collection whilst trying not to freak out, and as I (geek,geek,geek) use the litany against fear already, my eyes rested on my Dune video, which has Sting on the spine as Feyd-Ruatha. :lol:

Anyhow. I am also looking at pictures of injections, reading (vivid, detailed, ewew) instructions, and have actually watched a video but it made me squirm so I'll leave that for tomorrow.

It.. Seems to be working.

I figured out, you see, that my needle fear started after the age of seven or eight.

You know what I remember from then?

I had my appendix out.

One day I woke up after the operation, came out of the fever or whatever, and needed the loo.

I remember swinging my legs off the bed, and standing up. Only I didn't stand up because I seemed to have forgotten how to walk or stand and I just sort of slid to the floor.

The drip and all tore out of my hand, and when they put it back in they couldn't get a vein at first.

They eventually put this plungery thing in, that they could put different things in without having to find the vein again. It was horrible, like a plastic tube stuck out of my hand with a needle going into my body.

Anyhow, I think that may be what put me off needles. Because I didn't care before.

Oh my laiiiiird

So yesterday was a harrowing day for me.

I have been feeling steadily more and more ill over this week - sickness and dizzy spells, weakness, diarrhoea, shivers, sore throat, stomach pains.. Bleugh.

Yesterday in particular I was tired as heck, felt like I hadn't slept for a few days, slightly dizzy, very floaty and weak feeling - though I was actually underestimating grip necessary to hold things, etc, and broke/ripped some stuff. Nausea, diarrhoea, and a headache. I got a letter from my GP saying if I want needles and such I must go to the exchange. So, they're open late on Thursdays and I got a lift from a mate at work.

I reminded him shortly after lunch, and he had forgotten and agreed to do overtime! So I had to work until 5:45pm instead of my usual 4:30pm.

We got there and he drove off, and I hung on the buzzer watching my breath blooming in the half-light by the intercom of the building. Finally got an answer and got in to a nice warm place. When did it get so cold so fast?

They asked my age a few times, obviously not believing that I'm 23... So eventually I gave up and explained that I'm not an addict, just an impatient trannie.

Then there was a bit more waiting.

I met a very nice man, and then there was a room. With a wall.

Covered in shelves.

Full of boxes.

Of needles.

Have I mentioned my needle phobia being pretty intense?

Anyhow they told me not to do steroids and gave me clean sterile needles and swabs and such so I don't get hepatitis or something.

I arrived at 6pm.

I left at 7:05pm.

I waited for the bus, which thankfully was five minutes early.

I got home about 8pm...

...and the hall lights weren't working.

Now, I hoped this was just the bulb but nope, when I finally fumbled my key into the lock, my lights weren't working either.

So I fumble around my flat looking (in the dark) for a candle ani a lighter and then trying to find my electric key and wallet.

I'm too short to tell how much electric I have, you see.. I can't see the numbers, even if I tiptoe.

Anyhow, I marched down one end of town to the cashpoint.

Then to the other end of town to the only open shop that serves my electric key.

Then fumble around getting the key in and nothing happened.

So I pushed the buttons madly and such and it worked.

Then I went back upstairs and oh yay my fridge was warm.

My fridge with my defrosted and now warm steak, ready for dinner, sitting in it. So I had to triple-bag it and stick it in the bin and just have steamed veg for dinner. Which is nice but I need some iron to get into my system.

Especially as, I discovered, my body is once more betraying me, meaning I can't wear my packer and have to feel sick and dizzy and tired and hurt like fucking hell and be depressed as fuck for the next week or more.

And there was a letter on my stairs. Addressed to MS (former name) and it really brought me down; haven't had anything like that for ages. It's an appointment, this time with an actual psychiatrist. Only... It's on the 22nd of November.

I waited two months for nothing and have been down ever since.

And then waiting for another month, for another appointment or whatever.

And now I have to wait another month? ANOTHER MONTH?

I. I don't know what to say or do. I suppose I should let them know just how fucking depressed I am from this, just how devastated I am every day that passes with no movement, how the only thing keeping me here is the tantalising possibility in my fridge, how my needle phobia even ruins that for me. How basically most of the time I want to stop. Just stop. End. No more waking up to this, to struggling into my binder, no more of people getting me wrong, no more, no more. Bah, but I made promises.. And I don't think I could do that to my family, not now.

I'm trying to make light of this.

For instance, my needle fear, yeah?

Well I'm using my body's betrayal as a kind of time limit. When it's over, I hope I can handle the needles without freaking out. And maybe take my first dose.

Now I just need to save up the money to get to London and arrange a private appointment with a doctor there, to get a private prescription and then convert it to NHS, because my doctor told me I'd have to wait about two years on the NHS to get prescribed... And frankly considering the absolute time waste it's been so far, I think if I didn't have three months of Sustanon250 in my fridge, I'd not be writing this.

So, a week to nine days, needle phobia gone? I hope so.

Also thinking of getting hair trimmed tomorrow..

WELLLLL

Most of the time I like being on my own. I don't have to worry that someone's going to interrupt a chain of thought, or talk to me, or get upset at me, or make me eat or go to sleep or whatever.

But sometimes I don't like being on my own.

I had a visitor over the weekend. She's fab. I saved up so I could take her out, because she treated me when I visited her in August.

Shocking how cold it is here, already. They say by the end of the week we'll be into single figures. That's living by the sea for you.

Anyhow. She makes me feel good. And also sometimes bad.

Like my hands, you know? Sometimes I look at my hands and they just don't look right; too soft and small. But other times I look at them and they look okay; a bit veiny, just enough to reassure me that they're not girly.

It's odd.

Tonight I'm feeling very alone, and it's stupid because I'm not really alone; I can call, text, webchat, and so on.. But I liked that I could reach out and cuddle someone this weekend. It was brilliant. And I love that I can hug her and lose myself in her colour.

But now, my flat's dark and quiet again and there's just me in my dressing gown and the sound of my keyboard and I want a hug.

When it's cold outside, and dark, and quiet.. I just want to hug someone I love, and have that quiet stillness-of-mind that I can't seem to get on days like this alone.

Dear Old Friend,

So, last night, I got a message from a friend whom I haven't seen for... Oh about five years.

We originally met about nine years ago, were very close friends (via the internet & texts) but only met up once or twice a year because he lives on the IOW.

Anyhow, he was in the pub that's thirty seconds up the hill from my home.

So up I went - I had food in the oven but I turned it off and went straight out.

He was a little shocked when I 'came out' to him on Facebook, because he's always been 'into' me. He's pretty cute himself, but I digress.

It was a nice evening for the most part. Apart from being instantly outed by him and his dad to the entire pub and darts club, and therefore not feeling safe using either loo and waiting until I got home at closing time.

And apart from that phrase.

The one I've only heard once or twice, but which really, really hurts.

Thinking? No, agonising over this, inspired me to write a letter, which I will of course not send to him, but is cathartic. And maybe helpful. I know a few transgirls online have mentioned hearing this from people and not knowing what to say, which I didn't either at the time, obviously, or I wouldn't be agonising over it.

Dear old friend,
I'm sure you meant well when you said "You'll always be -birth name- to me."
But basically what we hear is "I don't care what you do, I'm always going to treat you as -assigned-at-birth-gender-, use the wrong pronouns, the wrong name, and generally make you cry/feel like shit when you're finally alone again."

My dear friend. I should like to let you know that - because I honestly always believe the best of people and therefore expect that you meant well - I haven't changed at all. You don't need to tell me that, "you'll need to start doing This and This." I have always been this person, though perhaps in the past I made attempts to 'fit in'. What you will find now is that the perhaps-mostly-hidden self is now bright and prevalant, and that I am happy and confidant in myself at last.

Nothing has changed, except everything.
Please, even if you mean well, never tell me that I'll always be -birth name- to you again. It hurts, even if I laugh it off. And I realise I should tell you this in person, but I don't want to sound like I'm telling you off, or to get upset. I want you to have time to think about this and realise how much it hurts.

Dear old friend, for me to have gotten back in contact with you after all these years, and tell you about this big event in my life that will finally help me on my path to happiness, for me to trust you with this knowledge and almost-power over me, this shows how much I love you.

Dear old friend, I loved you.

Please don't hurt me with your uninformed opinions and reactions. I am still the same person, but I am also not.

-- Your friend,

with trust and love.

That guy + My hair = Good?

I went out with a good friend (who I have been perving on from afar for ages.. Actually I'll tell that story first..)

So I get the same bus every morning, and have for over a year - since I moved into this flat down by the harbour. Onto this bus a cutecute young guy often gets. I could tell he was queer - not sure at first if he was gay, bi/pan, or just a queer ally. But I mentioned him (because he's immensely attractive, and it's rare for me to see someone I find this attractive merely physically) to my friend at college. And she knew him!

So I added him on Facebook and we got to talking.

Anyhow, one morning recently on the bus I got my courage up and put his name into my phone and passed it to him, with the cursor on 'Number' and he actually put it in. :)

So later that week he texted me and himself, his friend (she's a love) and I all went to a gay bar (a sequence of bars ending in a gay bar to be honest) in Canterbury. God he dances like he's having sex with an air elemental! I wish I could dance. I can, in private, but I dunnoh, I just can't move in front of people.. Freaks me out. Possibly that disconnecty thing? Anyhow.

We went out again last night, and he did my hair with this gel stuff. I think it looks pretty good.

Also I keep losing weight, which is obvious when you see this picture.

Anyhow, here we are, me again. Rare, so rare, hmmm, pictures of me I like? What on earth is going on? Oh, wait, I remember - I get to be me soon! :)

The Nan.

I told my nan.

Her response, verbatim (copy-pasted from the email)

Does not bother me one little bit. All I will have to get used to saying is I have 2 grandsons. Not too sure about grandad through will tell him later.

Are we coming to you on Saturday for lunch? Not sure how we left that. Do you want me to wash the sheets for you? If so how soon did you say your friend was coming to stay?

Let me know asap. I'm home all day today - so far that's the plan anyway.

Love Nan.

My family are seriously excellent. :)