Becoming Me: The Next Fight

Stress is stressful, people. And it sucks.

After months of chasing things down and chasing people up and fighting red tape, I finally got the letter which asked my GP to begin hormone treatment. So for, like, a day, I was a happy little transmasculine dude. It was lovely. I got a whole night of sleep and everything.

One week later, and I’ve found myself back to the having same conversation again, just with new people:

“Hi there, did you do the thing yet?”
“We did not do the thing yet.”
“Please do the thing. I’ll call again tomorrow.”

I can’t say 100%, but given my experiences from when I first asked for a referral to the gender clinic right up to this, I think what I’m facing is the simple fact that the staff at this surgery have never dealt with a transitioning trans person before. So what they’re saying is “We need to check with the GP and make sure we’re able to do this”.

Which means I’m preparing to have to have a conversation which begins with: “GPs do exactly this every single day.”

So: stress. And insomnia. And anger. And depression. And tears. I’ve been somewhat brutal with myself this week, pushing everything into a workout just to be able to cope day to day. I’m grateful as hell that I can do that.

It means writing is going badly because I can’t focus. I can’t sleep, and when I do I have horrible dreams. And my day job? I have to deal with customers all day, no the phone and by email, and keeping my frustrations out of that is not easy. Thankfully I have years of practice.

I’m off work for a week or so after tomorrow, and going to spend a few days out of here. I get day of it with a few other queer folk, and the rest of it with some very good friends.

I need that. Let me focus on seeing other queer folks, to remind me I’m not as alone as I feel. Let me focus on hanging out with those friends, and their kids, and fitting in with their lives for a few days.

Let me set this down, just long enough to stand up and remember the rest of the world that exists, and the reasons that I’m fighting. Then I’ll be back on the ride again, hopefully with a little boost of extra energy from taking a time out.

Twice in 24hrs I’ve had people, who have never met, call me a Pioneer. One of them reminded me that this is not something that’s new to me. She’s right. It’s not a new experience. But this is the hardest one, by far.

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