All posts by Chrissy_bea

About Chrissy_bea

Hi, I'm Chrissy. I'm 32 years old, transitioning for the last 18 months or so. I'm a transgender woman who's steadily working things out and rebuilding my life, now with my beautiful girlfriend Rebecca, who's sharing my journey and life with me as we become the women we are.

To the Moon

The other day I sat down and did something I said I was going to do for a while: Play a game. Might sound odd, me saying that given I’m often playing games, but this one was different. It was a little title I stumbled across a year ago, immediately bought on Steam and then left it. A little indie game called To The Moon. A nice, little RPG game with an element of puzzle solving to it, but mostly an interactive story more than a game per se. It was created by a group of people called Freebird Games. (You can learn a bit more about them and their game here )

Without giving too much away, you play as a scientific duo from a company who provide a service for people at the end of their lives. A service where they had a desire or a wish that went unfulfilled for whatever reason during their life which would then be fulfilled before they died. This was achieved via a miracle of technology which created an alternate life within the mind of the individual in which their wish was fulfilled and they lived it out, like a second life. In this case, it concerned a gentleman who wanted to go to the moon, but didn’t.

In order for this machine to work, the scientists had to go through the individual’s mind via memory hops to a time early in life, where they would then implant the wish and then events would unfold and the wish came to pass. This meant exploring and reliving memories, searching for clues, spotting patterns and things of significance in order to create the next memory link to create a bridge to the next significant life memory and progress onwards.

I’m not going to reveal too much more as I don’t want to spoil the story for anyone intrigued enough to go look this game up but various things and themes came up and were explored during the game that resonated with me and I’ll talk about in a while, but after spending an afternoon on this, going through many twists and turns we get to the game’s conclusion. The old man at the centre of this gets his wish and lives out his alternate life and then dies.

Between the plot, being so swept up with the story and the beautiful soundtrack which accompanied it (which I’m listening to while writing this) I was in fits of tears. Rebecca too, as she’d become mesmerised towards the end and had dropped what she was doing at the time to watch. It’s not the first time a game has done this to me and it won’t be the last.

It’s also why I had kinda put off playing it until the other day. I knew it was going to have this kind of effect and would likely unsettle me afterwards. Sure enough, I’ve not felt myself the past couple of days. I’ve felt like I’m on the outside the room looking in in regards to stuff going on around me during the day and my mind has been racing like an overclocked processor, head humming as a result, as I get when I’m in one of my analytical ‘trying to process stuff’ modes. I’ve spent my break times at work reading up more about the game, the story and so on, trying to piece things together and learn all I can about it while jotting down memo notes on my phone.

It’s something I do with anything that really grips me. It’s also why despite the fact I love games, I play relatively few of them. The ones I play grip me so entirely I’m doing all these things on the side that tie in with them, be it reading up on them, watching playthroughs on YouTube or just figuring stuff out. Soundtracks usually end up being hunted down and played a lot if the music is good and sooner or later end up becoming part of an ever expanding repartee I’m often humming or whistling to myself while doing stuff. (That’s often a good indicator of my emotional mood. If I’m relaxed I do this a lot).

In short I become somewhat obsessed, which until recently would draw some snide comments about ‘Why are you wasting time with that?’ and ‘All you ever do is that’ when I do go through one of these phases. I can’t be thankful enough to Rebecca for being the complete opposite to this when I’m working through an obsessional phase. She lets me get on with it, work through it and make sure I’m ok.

In the case of this game, I was trying to link together a few things to do with one of the characters in the game, a woman called River, and things she was doing throughout. It’s heavily implied she was diagnosed with Asperger syndrome as an adult ( Asperger wasn’t directly mentioned but the game references Tony Atwood, a man who wrote several books on the subject when her diagnosis came up). I had a shrewd idea she was on the autistic spectrum pretty early on in the game, because of a few things she did, and later on in the game I was finding myself relating a lot to experiences she had while growing up, which is one of several things I’ve been thinking about a lot today.

She pretty well spent her life in her own world, not really caring what people thought and quietly doing her thing, pursuing her choices, hobbies and making a few life choices that had the people around her scratching their heads over. Sounds familiar, huh?

I’ve had a feeling for a few years now I might be somewhere on the spectrum myself. In time I’ll go about taking steps to get that looked at, once the transition stuff is over anyway, but I digress.

Going back to the question of why I put off playing To The Moon for as long as I had and why I’ve felt unsettled. If I’m honest, I get scared by my emotions at times, what they say about me and what others think of me when I express them. As a kid I had a lot of trouble with ADHD influencing my behaviour as well as bullying at school. People would often provoke me into lashing out because seeing me lose it was entertaining. If something upset me to the point of tears, well that was a field day for them. If I was having meltdowns I’d get hassle for that. one that comes to mind is the time someone provoked me at a time when I was using a school laptop for work after
damaging one of my wrists coming off my bike. In among other things I tired to do I was trying to wrap the laptop round their head. Needless to say I got an earful for that, which I really didn’t understand as it wasn’t me who started the altercation.

Another was a memory of dad snapping and shouting at me in an exasperated fashion came to the fore. Usually if I was getting shouted at by a parent it would be mum. If dad was doing the shouting you knew you’d done something really spectacular. Later on in life I’d often get remarks from my ex that were pretty demeaning because of my temper, though looking back now with all that was going on it’s hardly any wonder why I was in a default state of being wound up to snapping point and doing things like shredding a phone book when I boiled over. Any wonder why my emotions terrify me at times when I ended up having the strength do do things like that.

Over the years and after enough digs and prods from people you get to a point where you just bury stuff, repress things and try and fit in, conform and appear normal, which just fucks things up in the long run and leaves me where I am now, struggling to express myself and finding some middle ground in a world of extremes. Most of the time I feel pretty robotic in situations, for the lack of being to feel what the situation calls for. Nine times out of ten I react appropriately, or at least guess right and do what is expected, or at least not get odd comments for it, but it feels like I’m experiencing life through a filter and not feeling connected. I’m not even sure I’ve described that right, it’s the best I can do without telepathy. That feeling of really not being able to express things adequately is one of the reasons why I talk so little, preferring to write things down. I have processing time then, to organise things before feeling able to express what’s on my mind.

If I do let things go, the really go, like they did the other night at the end of the game. Rebecca remarked at the time I don’t cry enough or let things out, but that’s a lifetime of social conditioning for you. Afterwards I’m having to ask her if what I did and how I reacted was normal. That’s how unsure I am and how scrambled my head feels for the most part.

Having spent a large chunk of my life creating various fantasy worlds in my head and using them as an escape from various traumatic events it’s really no surprise why To The Moon and it’s plot and premise has resonated so strongly with me.

Thankfully these days there’s less pressure upon me to keep up a pretence of conformity. I can spend the day at work just getting on with the job, not being expected to or having my arm twisted into interacting with my co-workers beyond anything that’s not work dependant, because believe me, being in my own world whistling away to whatever random music is playing in my mind at the time is a lot less stressful.

As for the gaming? Well I’m aware the makers of To The Moon have recently released a sequel. I just hope I don’t put off playing that for as long as I put off playing this.


(For those interested in giving the game a go To the Moon can be played from Steam, or downloaded into your phone)



Well it’s 2018 today, so happy new year and all that. Truth be told it’s just another day for me. We didn’t stay up late to see the new year in, didn’t even get woken up by fireworks. Rebecca’s at work today so staying up late wasn’t an option even if either of us wanted to. As for me? Well I’m just ambling along, being a bit introspective I guess, as you do at this time of the year.

Resolutions didn’t happen last year so there’s none of that going on. The important things stayed the same. I’m still with Rebecca and we’re very much in love and have talked about the future together and what we want to do. I’m still here, a line of thought a holdover from the bad old days where there were times I seriously doubted I’d make it to 30, such was the state of my mental health back then.

I also got a bit fitter the past year. I had been conscious of the fact that I’d put on weight because of HRT and very conscious of the fact that for the surgery I’m hoping to have this year they need your BMI to be below 28 to help with results. Well my present line of work, allied to cycling to work for the first time in years has helped there.

Last year I guess I could say I got to the stage where I could make peace with various things in my life. My transition, for one. It’s still going along, the HRT doing it’s magic and hopefully this year the one thing that is still bothering me on that front will be sorted out. I’m conscious of the fact that I’ve been on HRT for two years so and all the major changes have more or less taken place, so whatever I’ve got, that’s probably all I’m getting. You know what? What I’ve got I’m pretty happy with. I’ve got a nice enough figure, my boobs are at a point where they look like boobs even without a bra on and look the part. Yes, they could do with rounding out a little more. Maybe that will still happen in time, who knows. The body hair’s more or less taken care of itself, with a bit of help from the epilator and a touch of electrolysis for the odd bit here and there I really don’t want.

I was hoping to have been done with the stuff on my face but I’ve had to take that slow as I’m on as high a setting as my skin will take and I’m often a hairs breadth away from a meltdown because of the anxiety I get going to these appointments. Put short, it bloody hurts. I decided a few months ago once the dark stuff is done, that’s it, I’m not bothering with the blonde and ginger stuff that I get. A quick shave twice a week sorts that out and 20 seconds with a razor is much less aggro than electrolysis. Cis women shave, epilate, wax facial hair so that’s one instance of making peace with things that I was on about. Comparing body features and getting jealous of what other people have is not something I really get. I get it now and then but it’s no longer a dysphoria thing, it’s just a ‘She’s got a nice whatever’ kind of feeling instead of the pre-transition dysphoric hell of not looking like you feel you should and wishing you could look like a woman.

At some point I got more comfortable with going out without bothering to put a face on. There was a time where this would be unthinkable but these days it’s along the lines of ‘Right, need milk for the shops, get my shoes and keys and go get it.’ I might not have even shaved that day either when doing this, something else that was once unthinkable.

Something else I’ve made some headway on this year is dealing with the fact I’m not a neurotypical person and instead of trying to fight various things on that front in an attempt to appear normal I’m just rolling with it. Yes, this means sticking my hands over my ears because of loud noises in public, having meltdowns because of high anxiety and overanalysing and overthinking stuff, not hanging around areas that are overwhelming my senses, speaking up when I’m having trouble with concentration and so on. I realised that doing what I do is ok and if anyone has a problem it’s their problem and not mine. Realising that challenging behaviour in others is a big trigger point for my anxiety is another and is what’s resulted in me leaving care work for now because I really don’t want to have to deal with that any more. Having a partner who’s been very encouraging and reassuring me it’s ok to change jobs because of such things has been a big help.

I am aware that embracing this side of me is a bit of a double edged sword, especially when it comes to social situations, particularly group stuff. I tend to shy away from group stuff. I end up being the one in the corner sitting silently and seemingly not joining in because I struggle with interacting and judging when to talk without interrupting others and picking up on social cues. I’m the sort of person who says little but listen, take things in and remember stuff that is then important later on, even in a 1 to 1 setting. In groups I can shut down completely and then later get wound up about it, like I did in Brighton.

It’s a double edged sword because I can easily become withdrawn and stuck into a routine where I don’t try new things and don’t really go anywhere as a person. Case in point; Makeup. My sister got me some lovely new bits the previous year but because I am so set in my ways and stick with what works because it’s predictable and I don’t end up worrying it took me nine months before finally looking at the stuff. When it comes to makeup I figured out a simple routine that works early on in my transition and it’s barely changed since. I might pick a different colour lipstick or eye shadow once in a while but things are fairly static. When I’m at work this is ok. I have a routine that’s quick to do and lasts the day without me really needing to think about whether it’s holding up or not, because I know it does. Away from work I really need to try and do new things occasionally. This goes for a lot of things really and I’d like to be a bit more expansive this year because I worry about becoming withdrawn again. That was a default state of being before transition and I don’t want that again. It caused all sorts of issues that I’m still dealing with now.

I guess what I’m trying to say is the past few months I’ve been rather wary of my frame of mind and really not wanting to start slipping backwards again. Maybe that should be a resolution for the year. Who knows? Maybe I’m just overthinking things again. Happy new year everyone.



Erm, Hurry Up and Wait?

Is that what I do now? Well it fits well with the rest of the transition narrative I suppose, what between the time from referral to first appointment, assessments for HRT and then for surgical opinions. I’m up past the two and a half year mark on that front and still going now I’m onto the next phase of proceedings.

Not going to lie, the past couple of months since my appointment was kicked back has been hard. It’s pretty much been a long, drawn out anxiety attack really. When I’ve had three appointments and two of them have been affected by someone cancelling and rescheduling months down the road I get very anxious that it’ll happen again. Navigating the run up to Christmas is hard enough for me without this extra thing going on in my head.

The week before my appointment was where things got really fun. First off, I get knocked on my back for a full three days with the flu. Secondly the car decides it’s had enough and starts giving up, by way of a massive coolant failure which resulted in the car doing it’s best impression of a kettle. The car, luckily enough we managed to replace, the flu however was reluctant to shift. Well, flu or no flu I was going to London. A meteor strike couldn’t stop me going so a damn stupid virus had no chance.

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(Meet the new car: Includes mod cons such as working heating and stereo)

Anyway, Rebecca and I did our usual, got up, got ready, drove to the station and got the train to London. Thankfully it was an afternoon appointment so no rush hour to deal with and tickets are half what they cost at peak time. Things were going ok until we got to the tube. As you all know I despise the thing. At the best of times I struggle with the noise and closeness. Air quality is another issue. Between my asthma and fairly low lung capacity it doesn’t take much for me to get out of breath at the best of times. Off the back of the flu? It was grim, especially on the Victoria line where I swear the trains are coal powered. The air is so smokey down there it’s alarming. I got so out of breath Rebecca was having to hold me upright while trying to keep herself upright on a horribly jerky train. At some point the jolting does something to my left leg. By the time we get to Baron’s Court I’m wrecked. I had to sit down at the station for 10 minutes trying to get my breath back. A trip up the stairs reveals something in my leg isn’t right. It’s agony trying to bend it. I suspect sciatica, especially how it carried on coming home later.

Things are determined to try and get in my way this day. Even so, we set a new record for turning up to one of our appointments early. We were there three hours early. This sounds insane, but Rebecca and I both hate turning up late to places so allow a silly amount of time for incidents etc. It was something that was hammered home when we got to CHX and registering. Some poor guy who came in just after us had trekked halfway across the country and was 2 hours later for his appointment thanks to a broken down train. Luckily he was able to be seen and got what he needed but even so. The day they finally get a centre opened in Wales so people don’t need to trek all the way from there to London for care can’t come soon enough.

After getting some lunch we return ( I’d gone in and registered earlier on so I could stop panicking that the appointment wasn’t on) and while sitting and waiting we end up having a chat to other people there for appointments. A young trans man and trans woman spot they’re both massive Harry Potter fans and get chatting away in between questions about various experiences we’ve had while transitioning. An older trans woman tells of how her brother’s disowned her over what’s going on. I sit there thinking I’ll miss these moments, chatting, giving people not so far along advice and reassurance about things. I don’t get to think for long as I get called in 10 minutes early for my appointment.

Much like my previous appointment the first 10 minutes is spent catching up on stuff, how things are going, how’s family been, etc. Got asked a couple of questions on how I felt things are going and how long I’d been transitioning for, if I’d had any regrets, etc. The question of grief counselling comes up again after talking about dad again.

Medical history was touched upon. I fill the clinician in on my asthma and medication, get asked the usual questions on drug and alcohol usage (No, and barely drink these days, thank you).

After this we start talking about surgical options. This is pretty brief as I already know what I wanted and had my notebook to hand already. Seeing as I’m going down the penile inversion route talk turns towards that and what’s needed. I was asked if I was circumcised (I’m not). This is good as it’s more material for the surgeon to play with and because of this there’s a good chance hair removal down below is not needed. Once the referral is done and a pre-surgery appointment is completed, hair removal is usually the biggest hold up as there’s not much of a waiting time for the surgery itself at this point.

and various risks and drawbacks that might arise, how depth and sensation can vary (or be non existent), surgical complications such as prolapse or the rare but very nasty one where the bowel gets nicked during the operation and what’s needed to be done about that. Basically there’s a chance this could happen, a fistula forms and bowel fluid gets into your nice new vagina. This results in an operation to isolate the bowel and the need for the use of a colostomy bag while things are repaired and healed. After this, things are reattached and hopefully things will continue as normal. This isn’t a shock to me as I was paying attention back when I attended the orientation lecture a couple of years ago and I’m well aware of possible issues.

Aftercare is also discussed, dilation and generally looking after yourself until you’re ready to go back to work. I learned that I might not have to stop HRT before surgery. Most surgeons get you to stop for six weeks before surgery and wait three week after before going back on it as it helps lessen the chances of blood clotting occurring. Apparently one of the surgeons doesn’t insist on this though, not that I was told which one it was. Interesting to know because I’d rather avoid a menopausal hot flush mess if I can as I’m not that great at regulating body temperature as it is.

I’m asked what surgery would mean to me. For one it means I’d feel comfortable having some level of intimacy with Rebecca because things down there would be right. Peace of mind knowing I won’t ever have to worry about tucking and hoping things aren’t giving the game away ever again. Truthfully, it’s mainly peace of mind, being able to look in the mirror while dressing or undressing and not having a ‘Damn, it’s still there’ moment. I’m pretty happy with what HRT has given me after two years and nothing else gives me any real dysphoria these days.

Swimming was discussed, that classical thing a lot of trans people avoid because of dysphoria, and getting changed. I promptly joke about my terrible swimming ability. I swim like a brick and I get so out of breath after a couple of minutes I usually don’t go again for years.

And after that little ice breaker I get the news I’d been hoping for: My second opinion. It’s like an early Christmas present, and a massive weight is lifted. Talk turns towards where I’d like to go for surgery. I’d decided long ago I was heading for Parkside. If I’m honest I’m not too fussed who gets to work on me: So long as things down below look alright and do what they need to do I’m not even that bothered about the look of the thing. I know this sounds weird and probably blasé too, but that’s me. Parkside got chosen for geographical convenience. Why tramp halfway across the country for something when it can be done 25 miles or so from home?

Thanks to the vagaries of the admin system, Charing Cross GIC can’t make direct referrals to Parkside, only to Nuffied in Brighton, or Imperial College across the road. For Parkside, they go through Imperial and they do the referral. Another vagary is the fact that in spite of the fact the report will be written up the same day, it’ll take six weeks for the GIC to sent the referral out to across the road. basically if I don’t hear anything by March I can start badgering people. Meanwhile, I do have a contact for a nurse at Parkside to discuss things, which I shall do in the new year. I mean, what’s a week or two on that front after all the time I’ve waited thus far.

Anyway, on that note, I hope everyone has a good time over the holidays and hope the new year brings good things to you all xxxxxxxxxxxxx



(Once again my wonderful Rebecca’s by my side and being awesome)

A Change Of Pace

*Looks around suspiciously and leans in* I’m going to whisper this, but I might have found a job I feel comfortable doing this past week. Basically I’ve taken on a job at a warehouse for an international company, picking items for customer orders. I won’t say who for because I’m wary of doing such things online but after my first week I’m feeling pretty good, especially after the disaster that my last job turned out to be.

Seems a bit daft on the surface anyway. I’d spent the past four years in care roles and spent two of them gaining two NVQ’s and was lined up to start working towards a Care Certificate. Sounds a bit like a career really. The thing is I enjoy helping people, but I’m really not coping with a few things that came with the work.

Since transitioning I’ve gotten better at finding out what my strengths and weaknesses are. I’m also more aware of how things can stress me out, cause anxiety and so on. Basically I’ve figured out I need things to be predictable and fairly structured work wise to cut put a lot of stress and anxiety. This is something that has been in short supply at my various care roles, spanning from things like shifts being varied, the expectation that we can drop everything and have practically no life because of work demands and the work itself can be unpredictable because of client needs. The biggest thing of all is I’ve realised I really can’t deal too well with challenging behaviour, especially when things become violent. Even before transitioning I struggled with this aspect but nowadays, I can’t handle it. I get so stressed and anxious about this it was damaging my mental health.

My last job was all of the worst things in microcosm. My last job I was lied to at interview, in regards to hours per week and shifts, which has really pissed me off because I had three different jobs to choose from and I made a choice based on what was said at interview.I wouldn’t have picked a job that had 42 hours and 12 hours shifts if they said that at the time.

On my third shift I was physically attacked by one of the residents. I nearly walked that day and it was only because of my team leader trying to convince me to stick around for training that I didn’t. The following week I did training, including two days of learning how to deal with physical incidents and restraint techniques and really didn’t feel good about it. The following shift I saw some of the damage the resident who had attacked me had done while I was off and that finished things. If they could do what I had seen them do then I knew there was zero chance I was going to get close enough to them to try and do what I had been taught. I don’t have the physical capability to do so and frankly I don’t want to be put in such a position. I phoned in sick for my next two shifts because I was non functional because of my anxiety and the following day I quit. My then manager trying to guilt trip me on the phone with “But we said at interview you’d be dealing with people with challenging  behaviour” was ironic really. As Rebecca will tell you, I got so anxious about that job and having to make that phone call I almost snapped my glasses as I had them in my hands at the time.

My new job I have fixed shifts, predictable hours and a predictable job. I also get home early enough to have a couple of hours of evening to play with instead of coming home and needing to go right to bed, and can get up at a reasonable hour too. It’s also close enough for me to not need to worry about public transport. It’s 40 minutes on foot or 15 now I have a fold up bike, which I got because it’s a near flat road there and back. I’m pleasantly surprised how well my legs have held up considering it’s a more physical job and I’m on my feet most of the day.

I seem to have picked things up pretty quick too. I can find my way around with ease and work out where I need to get to next efficiently. I’m also pretty quick at finding what I need to get as well. Basically it’s all recognising patterns and memorising inane things, linked to navigation, things I’ve always had a knack for. My instructor was impressed enough with how quickly I’d picked up the store layout to call me a genius, which made me blush. It’s also nice I’m mainly left alone to quietly get on with things. As I’ve said elsewhere, I’m doing something that is a millionth of the stress I had doing care work and I’m getting similar money for it. oh, and I’m going to improve upon my fairly lacklustre level of fitness, which will be good for other things.

It’s a nice work atmosphere as well, quite a strong team culture, we’re encouraged to contribute to the safety meetings we have each day, any ideas we have and the people there seem to be fairly happy and relaxed from what I’ve seen. It’s a nice change of pace.

Looking forward it looks like there’s plenty of opportunities to make this thing permanent as I’m presently working through an agency, so long as I’m hitting targets, my attendance and attitude are good and there’s several other roles to learn too, in time. Here’s hoping it’s not another false dawn.


Yep, I’m back on two wheels again 🙂

Trans Pride 2017

Well Trans Pride is over and done for another year and I’m at home and in bed writing this even though it’s only 8pm. I’m that tired, so tired I can’t concentrate and then spent most of the next day feeling rather ill.

The past few days have taken a lot out of me, more than I thought for a number of reasons. On the physical side of things my phone recorded 30k of walking spread over four days. Factor in the fact I went to Brighton a week after smashing my toe at home and then picking up a massive blister on the first night I’m quite surprised I managed to hobble and curse my way along such a distance.

Mentally I’m feeling very frazzled. Social events have that effect on me anyway but this year it’s been pretty brutal at times. I overdid things on Friday, had a meltdown on Saturday and spent a fair bit of Sunday in an unfocused haze. I’m starting to realise how neurodivergent I am and becoming more aware of how it impacts on a lot of things. As a kid I was diagnosed with ADHD and I know I have a number of sensory issues, such as being very sensitive to loud noises and bright light. I really need to sort out my glasses instead of having to choose being able to see clearly or being blinded by strong sunlight.

For instance Friday night we went to the Trans Pride Film Event. A series of short films by a number of different independent groups revolving around different aspects of gender identity and how they play out. The films themselves were interesting, but for accessibility all of the films had closed captions. This was brilliant as I was able to read what was being said instead of listening, or tying to listen to the films while trying to tune out about a million different and distracting noises. It also meant if there was a particular noise that was bothering me, I could block it out. Case in point, a droning sound in the first film resulted in me covering my ears until it had gone away. With the closed captions I could still follow the narrative while this was going on. I’m also realising if I am having to block sounds out by covering my ears when out and about no-one pays any heed, which is nice.

Thursday night was pretty good, Rebecca and I had made plans to meet up with our friend the lovely Kate and go for dinner out somewhere, which we did after we checked into the hotel and chilled out for a couple of hours. We were later joined by Lisa and had a good catch up over a couple of drinks. I think Rebecca actually got a bit drunk that night. The only downside was my feet acting up. My shoes weren’t comfortable and I later found I had a huge blister on my right foot on top of the bad toe that had been playing up. I walked back in my socks, which was another poor idea as walking for half an hour with no support on my arches meant I was almost in tears by the time we got back. It also resulted in me buying an emergency set of trainers while out and about on Friday.


A lovely evening out with Kate (Far left) and Lisa (Far right)

Friday was a long old day, a bit too long looking back on it. We had a wander round the shops, lunch out and a trip to the Brighton and Hove art gallery afterwards. The gallery was interesting on a couple of fronts. For one they had a big Constable exhibition on display, secondly they had the museum of Transology, which had an effect on me. Basically it was a museum of curios donated by various trans people that symbolised their journeys and I can see myself writing a blog about something based on this in the near future. I do hope the exhibition finds a permanent home because it deserves one. Transgender history is rather fragmented thanks to a lot of stuff being destroyed and also serves to shoe people that we are not a recent trend but an integral part of society for as long as there has been a society to speak of. For anyone interested, go look at

The aforementioned cinema event followed in the evening and by then to be honest I was struggling, having been out all day and not really had a break or somewhere especially quiet to unwind. The films were fantastic, two in particular stuck with me though. One called Skeleton in a Beret was about a couple of people who used gaming to explore their gender identity, an avenue I’m familiar with in my own way. The other (Mum) was about a family, the mother was suffering from a long term illness, one of her adult children was trans and had transitioned and family relations were somewhat strained. It brought back memories, lets just say that. Again, link below for anyone wanting more information on things

Saturday was the protest march through Brighton, though not before Rebecca and I raided a couple of comic shops we saw the previous evening and got some goodies. The march itself was as expected, a lot of noise and visibility along with a lot of walking before getting to Brunswick park and having a wee chat with various people we know on Twitter. Then the rain came, then my mood crashed. It was cold, wet, my foot was in a lot of pain by then and we retreated to a pub where some friends were staying for a while before we got a bus back to the hotel. Next year I need to actually plan stuff rather than try and drift along and see what happens. I just feel very unfocused and isolated that way. Tears were shed and pizza was consumed.


Getting ready for the Protest March, before the weather closed in

Sunday was another day out and about with Kate, coffee, lunch and shopping as well as a good chat about a couple of serious things going on. I hope she’s ok now. Again, after a couple of hours out and about I was flagging and needing peace and quiet and looking a bit ill too (which fits given how bad I’ve felt today, Tuesday). Eventually we picked up a small wardrobe of spare clothes Kate was giving away and returned to then hotel. That just left Monday and a quiet trip back home after having spent Sunday evening mostly talking to Rebecca through Twitter as I was trying to get my head and some thoughts in order while having a non verbal spell.


More fun and adventures with my Rebecca and the lovely Kate

The main theme behind this long Twitter chain I was typing out was a theme of feeling a bit adrift and lost, which seems ironic being in Brighton of all places. It was here two years ago a lot of things transition wise swam into focus and I got into gear. I went full time soon after and haven’t looked back. I made some great friends who I was happy to see even if it was all too briefly at times for various reasons this time. Two years down the line I’m at a stage of transition where I’m ready to move forward and sort surgery out, but still waiting for the system. I’m also still waiting to get up and going with my new job, which as it turns out I shall be starting next week, but that’s not all.

Putting things into an understandable concept is hard for me at times. With what’s going on in my head I likened to seeing a load of threads on the ground. Are they mine? Do I pick them up? Throw them away? Leave them alone? Some things I’m sure of, like my gender identity, being madly in love with Rebecca and my gothy/witchy leanings. A lot of other things I’m less sure of and there’s a couple of things I am frankly terrified of picking up and looking at because of past experiences. I suppose I’ll figure it all out in time but right now it’s only adding to this sense of feeling adrift right now.

In the end we came home Monday and to be honest, I was looking forward to going home. I’ve not felt like that when away somewhere for a long while. A few times Rebecca and I have asked if we would go back to Brighton next year. To that I will say yes, but next year I’ll have to do a few things different. First off, next year I need to stay somewhere in town, nearer to events. Being half hour walk away from the hotel messed me up. I needed the room to be close by so I could easily duck in for an hour or so and reset up head when being out and about got a bit much. I stupidly chose our hotel based on the fact parking wouldn’t be a financially crippling issue that it was last year. The logical thing would have been to book in town and taken the train down, like a lot of people do. It would have made it easier to plan things with friends, being nearby. Next year I need to plan going out better. The days where we had planned to meet someone and do stuff worked a lot better than just winging it and hoping.

I also need to do other, smaller things as well. For one, remembering to pack a couple of extension leads in case the power points are miles away from the bed. Packing more shoes better suited for walking around and finally, if I get new clothes, try them before packing them and taking them with me. I had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction in Brighton. Namely I put on a new top and realised it was pretty well see through.


Emergency trainers

On the plus side, I spent a whole day out in leggings and another day out in shorts and at no point worried about or thought about my tucking arrangements. This is nice and is one of several reasons why surgery can’t come soon enough for me. I also paid very little heed to my make-up during the day because the hair removal’s gotten to a point where I can go out for the day and not worry about covering stuff up. On that front at least things are slowly moving to a point of comfort. If nothing else I could go back next year just to add to my t-shirt collection.

I have a collection happening now

Oh well, I’m going to finish up with some other pics from the weekend below. Enjoy 🙂

Yup, travelled to Brighton in last year’s t-shirt 🙂

Perks of our hotel on the outskirts of town. Views, namely of the park. Also, a rainbow while in Brighton, how apt 🙂

Yes, we lost ourselves in the comic shops. Castle in the Sky is mine, a film that left a long lasting impression on me when I was growing up.


Rebecca’s pet bee. It just randomly landed on her hand while we were forming up for the march.

Digging and Dying – A Dig or Die Game Review

Hello everyone, those of you who know me over on Twitter may well have noticed I’ve been fairly quiet in the evenings just lately. That’s because of a game I started playing recently: Dig or Die. It’s a game on Steam made by a chap who goes by the name of Gaddy Games over there who has done most of the work himself, with some help with art and music. Rebecca came across the game first and within half an hour of watching her get to grips with it I jumped onto Steam and bought myself a copy. In some ways a pretty simple game in some ways, the basic premise can be summed up thusly;


Basically, you’re a travelling salesman for Craft & Co, you sell Auto Builder machines across the galaxy, but you derp up and crash your ship on a hostile planet. The ship’s AI survives and is less than thrilled with your muck up, before dispensing handy hint throughout the early game. Now you have to use your company’s products to craft items from various ground based minerals, the local flora and fauna in order to survive and eventually build a rocket to get off again. So it’s a bit like Minecraft with a tower defence element to it.

There’s a twist though; the local wildlife is hostile, very hostile. In fact if you kill one of a species, the rest of the species will go mad and will try to kill you at night. Therefore you need to build a decent, sturdy and well defended base. Think you can go pacifist and just avoid killing stuff? Forget it. Just about everything you will need to craft involves body parts from the various wildlife you’ll encounter. It’s kill or be killed.


                   (Evolution of your base; from hole in the dirt to a well defended complex)

So at the start you really don’t want to go around aggravating too much. In time you’ll craft better weapons, turrets, healing turrets and other defences and build a sturdy base. You’ll also craft better crafting machines to collect and make improved items and things that help you get around this strange world easier. You’re often caught weighing up weather or not to go after certain creatures based on weather you can fend them off at night or not.

It’s also a complete world, with different biomes and challenges each one brings. There’s the surface world, with floating sky islands, a volcanic area, an underground sea, caverns beneath that and other caves. It’s also a very wet world. It’s raining a lot. In fact the developer based the weather on his native Northern France. The water physics are amazing though. It rains, water runs and flows, it will seep and soak through porous lands and slowly evaporate out of areas that aren’t so. Water is fairly integral to the game given you can control it and use it to generate electricity and manage your environment for defence and safety (you don’t take fall damage if you fall into water).

The building physics are spot on too. Gravity is a harsh mistress and takes no prisoners. Don’t expect to be able to take a half-assed ‘pile it as high as you can’ approach to building towers and bridges. You need to plan and structure things properly or you’ll be literally falling on your ass.

There’s also four bosses to deal with (five if you include an optional extra), all of which need defeating in order to obtain key items for survival and getting off this hostile world. I’m not going into too many details as I don’t want to spoil the fun.

There’s a lovely musical soundtrack too, fairly calming by day and dynamic and a tad frantic at night when you’re under siege from all the creatures you’ve angered.


(Base under siege: holding out till dawn)

You’ll be doing a lot of digging, and you’ll quite often be dying too, but with the game’s default setting meaning the game auto-saves each morning (you can do your own saves too) and each day cycle taking around 15 minutes or so, deaths aren’t catastrophic and you’ll often learn from your mistakes.

Technically speaking, this is an early access game, it’s still in development and there’s plans well afoot for a multiplayer element, which is in beta, but the main game is fully playable and I haven’t come across any bugs so far, and I’ve stuck 60 hours into this.

If you’ve read this and like the idea, look it up on Steam. It’s £5.59 and worth every penny IMO. The link to the store page is below.


Gender Is A Spectrum

I am only going to say this once: No-one is trying to take gender out of society. What is happening is a steady realisation there’s is far more than the classic ‘two genders’ we’ve been saddled with and had hammered into our heads until recently. Gender, like many other things is more of a spectrum than a series of absolutes.

People are born, some identify as the sex they were assigned as at birth, others don’t. Those who don’t take various steps so they can present as the gender they feel they are. For some people like myself that means transitioning from male to female, or vice-versa. For some, they feel neither one suits them. Some days they feel more masculine or feminine and present as such, or a mix. I know, I used to do this too. Before I worked things out I thought I was non-binary or agender and dressed and presented according to how I felt.

So why am I writing a crash course in gender identity? Well once again I and a swathe of people are yet again having to defend ourselves from bigoted idiots and people who are sycophants to said bigots who should know better than most that toadying up to them is a bad idea. Piers Morgan and India Willoughby for those who aren’t in the know.

The fact the latter is a trans woman of considerable fame, and I presume knows what it’s like to have their gender identity questioned, poked, prodded and outright denied, derided and ridiculed by some is galling indeed, especially given their extremely poor choice of language while trying to defend her attitudes which are coming across more and more as transphobic, sexist and out of touch with what most of us have to deal on a day to day basis.

Siding with a well known transphobic, bigoted idiot like Morgan after his puerile attempts to invalidate Fox Fisher and Owl’s gender identity on national television is a slap in the face to transgender people. Once again we have a celebrity who thinks they’re the big ‘I am’ and profiting off of their transition screwing the rest of us over, either because they are not realising how much damage they are causing through their actions or just showing their true colours, then playing victim when the inevitable backlash hits.

Sorry, but you can’t have your cake and eat it. You want to tell your story and make some money off of it, fine, but don’t you dare shit on the rest of us doing so. You wanted to show the world your transition and show people you can transition and your life can be a success. That is inevitably going to make you a role model to many people who are going through similar struggles. If you want to be a shitty role model, like Caitlyn Jenner, we’ll call you out for it, like we do with her.

You don’t get anything for free. You have fame and money, but the price you pay is you become a role model, like it or not and role models need to be very aware of what they say and do or be held accountable. If you want to continue being a shitty person over all of this, and let’s face it, you are developing a track record for shitting on people who don’t conform to your perceptions (the incident where she invalidated every trans/non-binary person who don’t/can’t medically transition a while back), you are going to fall from grace very quick. The wheel of time will turn and you will become an irrelevance, much like the dross you’re appeasing through your actions. That is a promise and a forecast.

You’re not the only one who’s fought decades to become the person they felt they should be. Some of us are quite capable of doing this without invalidating those who’s journey don’t mirror our own.




Stuff Your Jobs

So our supposedly esteemed leader (that no-one actually voted for) this week claimed there are ‘boy jobs and girl jobs’ at home earlier on this week. Yup, 2017 has reached peak table flipping madness with the prime minister coming out with this guff that belongs in the 1950’s. Excuse me while I call this out for the bullshit that it is.

It did get me thinking though, particularly after Mia Violet highlighted on Twitter in her usual fun and satirical way what would happen in a household where men aren’t present. At home there’s me and Rebecca, we’ve both come from a background where we’ve had to learn all sorts of life skills and interests that probably aren’t considered all that girly. Rebecca’s got extensive knowledge in DIY through work and has practical hobbies such as getting her 3D printer up and going, as she was doing so yesterday.

I too am no stranger to DIY, and know a bit about cars and bikes, enough to do things like change spark plugs and oil. admittedly it’s not stuff I really want to do but it’s simple enough to do and a money saver too. As for the domestic stuff? Well we both do all that too though opening jars is a task that’s becoming increasingly difficult for us both.

The thing is, this has also got me thinking back to my upbringing. I’ve come from a family where this idea of there being boy jobs and girl jobs never really existed. Mum and dad both worked from home and both fitted work around stuff like getting us to and from school, clubs and so on.

I remember moving into the old family home almost 30 years ago and helping mum and dad with chiselling room after room of fuck-awful woodchip wall paper off of the walls. Sure, dad was better at the decoration side of things, he was better than most professionals at that, but mum was no slouch. She can paint and pout things on walls. The other week she used a power drill and put up two hanging basket brackets and a garden hose reel.

Yes, mum did most of the cooking, but cooking is a passion of hers. As it turns out dad was a pretty good cook himself. He did a full Sunday roast the day mum came home with my youngest sister for instance, he’d cook when mum was ill and both mum and dad knew their way around a barbecue. Dad would help with serving up Sunday dinner and tidying up afterwards and he’d do his fair share of the cleaning around the house, especially as mum’s back got worse. He always could get more stuff to fit in the dishwasher than any of us.

I remember long car rides to various places we went on holiday. Mum would have the map out and navigating for dad in between plying us with sweets to prevent WWIII breaking out between me and my sisters so he could focus on driving. I earlier mentioned being somewhat handy with cars and bikes. Bet you’re wondering who taught me what I knew? Must be dad? You’d be wrong. Dad hated doing that kind of thing, which I found slightly odd given he was a practical and hands on person between his DIY skills and his work as a draughtsman. No, the car stuff was self taught at a time when I didn’t have the money to pay someone else to do it for me.

All in all, having this kind of upbringing has served me well as I ended up learning all sorts of life skills without this toxic thinking that a particular job was for men to do or for women. I’m also pleased my sister is imparting this upon her kids as they grow up. People really need to start thinking about what they say before they say it, especially those who are in a position that holds a lot of sway and influence.

The Great Scrapyard In The Sky

Yup, that’s where my bike’s headed, I’ve officially had enough of trying to keep the thing going. A week ago and fifteen miles away from home I turned the key in the ignition to be greeted by a whole load of nothing. the battery and fuse check out as being ok but something in the electrical system’s given out, so that’s that.

In theory I could pull the bike to bits, track down the issue and fix it, but I can’t be bothered, and the way it’s been the past couple of months even if I did get it going again it’d only be a matter of time before something else went wrong and screwed me over. It’s been sitting  where it got dropped off a week ago and though I’ve had more than enough time to investigate things I’ve had zero inclination to do so. I’ve got the tools and possibly the know how to fix this. Even if I did fix it I now have zero confidence in going anywhere and getting back again.

I’ve not long replaced the spark plug, done an oil change and swap over a few hoses that were on the way out. I can strip the back end down to get the wheel off as well, useful when the rear tyre gave up the ghost a while back. However it’s so tiresome to do. I’m not all that keen on spending ages scrubbing my skin raw to get all the muck off after messing around with something mechanical and I sure as hell haven’t got the strength I used to have. HRT and arthritis have seen to that, probably for the best given I used to be able to tighten stuff until I cracked the socket and ratchet, or put enough stress on my joints to really set them off.

More than the less being able to physically do stuff is the fact I’m through sinking time and money into the thing so I’m making arrangements to get rid of it. When it’s gone, that’s me done with bikes, I’m not getting another. I’ve had five years of hooning around on the damn things and lately I’ve been getting fed up with doing this. I’m fed up with wearing enough layers to go on a polar expedition to keep warm and allegedly dry, and wearing a helmet that wrecks my hair. I’m fed up of being jolted about on poor roads and I am especially fed up of being almost taken out while on the damn thing because I apparently ride wearing an invisibility cloak. Even with high visibility clothes and a colourful bike I’ve lost count how many near misses I’ve had with myopic drivers who have pulled out, pulled across or are just being an intimidating dickweed in their vehicles.

The last three months where I’ve had to do a lot of driving for work purposes have driven this home. Funnily enough I only started driving because at the time I was working three separate part time cleaning jobs and was struggling to get about on my pushbike. Being told by my then GP I was tearing my knees to bits cycling was the main reason why I got up and on the road. My ex hated the idea, which probably made me want to do it more. It was also a lot cheaper to go see my family than by train. Faster too as I could get to theirs in 20 minutes or so. Can’t do that now though. These days to get to theirs would be a good couple of hours, impossible with my back. I found that out going to see my nan and granddad one time any more than about half an hour’s my limit on a bike. Any more and my lower back flares up thanks to me jarring it so badly falling while rollerblading when I was 15 or so. I slammed down on the base of my spine hard and it’s never been right since. I hit the same spot again some years later and had trouble with the nerves in my legs for a year or so. I really don’t need anything else to add to that.

Where I live now has a great bus service (provided I don’t get drivers coming onto me, but that’s another story in itself) so I don’t need to drive places very often away from work and whatever my next job will be I’ll be using public transport and walking so all in all the bike is pretty redundant now.

In the not too distant future I shall be learning to drive a car so with that in mind, I’m going to hang up my riding gear and moving on with things.

Where Does The Time Go?

Serious question, where has it gone? I’m asking because in a couple of days (Thursday 27th April) marks two years since I came out as trans and set things in motion. Anyone expecting then and now pics you’ll be disappointed, because I’m not doing that. I can’t look at my old pics, it’s just a reminder of so many painful events that happened in the past. I haven’t got many anyway.

I was pretty lackadaisical about printing pics in the past and thanks to a brace of hard drive wipes over the years I lost most of them. The ones I had printed out I last saw in my old house somewhere, left behind along with most of my stuff when I moved out. The few I do still possess tell the same story: A husk of a person, drifting through life, half not there and half dead. Someone and something a world away from where I am now, trying to figure out what was wrong.

Suffice to say I got there in the end, then spent weeks agonising on how to come out and how everyone would react. I remember coming home from a late shift, going to the bedroom and sitting rigid, choking back tears and trying to find the words to tell my now ex partner. I took the plunge and blurted out that I was trans and felt ready to start doing something about it, whatever the cost. A this point I felt all but dead anyway and probably not long for the world, I was that depressed, anything from that frame of mind was an improvement.

Over the coming weeks and months I told everyone else, saw my GP, had two attempts at getting referred to Charing Cross Gender Identity Clinic (My first referral got lost) and went about into the world, feeling I had finally awakened. I started finding what I liked, my own style and so on and began to grow.

I won’t lie and say it’s all been plain sailing. Transition costs a lot in terms of outlay. A new wardrobe of nice clothes for a start. I’ve spent a good couple of thousand pounds on laser hair removal and a fair few quid on a couple of private appointments to get myself up and running and onto HRT as I’d probably still be waiting to get onto that now if I sat back and waited for the GIC.

Transition also finished off my relationship with my ex, partly because he’s not into women, but transitioning and seeing what there was out there in the world opened my eyes to a lot of things that were not right and I wanted out before any more damage was done.

I saw a counsellor a little over a year ago, initially to help deal with the grief of losing my dad to cancer. A lot of stuff came out and she basically said I hadn’t been able to celebrate and embrace my transition up until then. With a relationship that was falling apart and dad suddenly becoming ill and leaving us it’s not hard to see why my early months that should have been happy ones were overshadowed.

Thankfully things have changed for the better. I’ve been with Rebecca for just over a year now. She has been amazing and supportive throughout, my rock and my world, my everything. Mum’s commented numerous times I’m the happiest she’s ever seen me now we’re together and yes, transition has become more of a celebration, for both of us. We’re both free to be ourselves, pursue our interests, have a lot of good times and get up to all sorts. We both had our first proper holiday in a long while last year and we’re quietly getting on with our lives and building a future together. In a lot of ways we’re both on a similar journey and helping each other heal from a pretty crappy past in a lot of ways.

Going forward, by the end of the year I’ll hopefully have a second surgical opinion out of the way and I’ve finally settled on what option I’d like to pursue on that matter. I’ll also hopefully have this hair removal business taken care of to a point where I’m reasonably happy. It’s funny how the goal posts change over time.

For instance there was a time where I wanted to get to a point where I’d never have to shave again. Now I’ll quite happy deal with shaving if it’s just to get rid of the blonde hairs I now mostly have now most of the dark hair has gone. I’ll be quite happy the day I don’t need to go back and get my face blasted by the laser.

I guess what I’m trying to say with all this is yes, transition is a daunting idea to go through with. How anyone thinks we’d do such a thing on a whim, or for some sort of kick I don’t know. You’re gambling at the highest stakes possible with all this. Some people get lucky and keep their partners, family and so on. Others aren’t so lucky, they lose can lose some of this, or all of it. Some people don’t make it at all. The rewards are worth the risks though. You get to be you, you get to live and that’s why we do this.

One of the best things about this journey is seeing my friends progress through their own transitions, overcoming obstacles and growing into the people they’ve always wanted to be. Here’s to the journey.