Hi,
Ah, how my mood and spirits lift as the season shifts. The warm orange hue of the trees, cooler mornings, and a slight chill to the morning. How I have missed your September, October, etc. All the ‘bers 🥰
Better
The DeWookification continues to deliver in terms of body acceptance and dispelling the Dysphoria Goblin. Likewise the careful application of some nail protector means my paws – until after Chams – remain slightly polished, rather than their usual dullness.
As much as this is ‘yet another transgender blog’ 🙂 it’s true that there are others things in life – or perhaps more accurately, my life – that bring joy: not having to rush to be somewhere; a stroll through nature; the smell of freshly brewed coffee when you’re in need of one; a hug from the Ever Lovely Mrs J; kind words from a friend; or unexpected help from a stranger, etc.
Yet, the minor difference between the everyday and the autonomy of one’s body, is that the lack of coffee or forests does not sting, ache, or similar. Yes, I did miss the beauty of the woods when I lived in the city. I yearned for a good curry while on holiday in a place that didn’t have them. Yet, those are longings or things to look forward to. Their absence did not… well, hurt, emotionally speaking.
If I tried to describe the dysphoria I sometimes get, I guess it’s like toothache or – when really bad – a migraine. I rarely think about either of the latter, unless I’m subject to one of them. So it is with being trans-something-or-other; it’s okay until it isn’t. Then you’ve got draw on your MindFU to refocus and stay on a steady course. A lot easier to write, than do.
To throw in another metaphor, that’s like holding on to your hat and a stack of paper during strong winds. Sure, you can make a bit of progress, but it ain’t easy. If you don’t pay just the right amount of attention: whoosh! everything is not where it should be and it takes a while to get yourself sorted.
There are rare times when I feel I could turn around in my own skin. That I am somehow wound up like a coil, and the ill-fitting outer shell is not mine.
I get through it by focusing on other things, keeping busy, and thinking of the better stuff I have going on: happier times, things to look forward to, or even just enjoying the now. Comforts of safety, a beverage, a doggo cuddled against my leg, etc.
History
I was reminded of the above when I happened watched a video by a young trans* woman. She spoke about her interactions with the NHS and – if I remember correctly – she’d been asked about her experiences of puberty. I paused the video, given I felt my history buttons being pushed and the risk of the revving up the the undiagnosed neurospicy powered Rember-o-matic emotion hyperdrive spinning up to sub light speed 🙃
… and breathe, Lynn… 🧘♀️
My first thought was mauled followed by it’s complicated
On the one hand, there was the fitting in with my peers. I mean, I went to an all boys’ school and while we were growing up at different rates (and heights), there was the all too typical wanting to fit in. Cue my parents’ cis-het view of the world, and that term did not exist back in the 80s. Different times, and you can only do what you can, with what you know. I don’t have any ill-feelings to that, it’s just how it was back then. The complexities of being gender- and neuro-diverse in the black & white world of a small town eh?
But back to mauled. I could have said ravaged, but given that’s sometimes used instead of ravished, and the nudge nudge wink wink connotations are very far from what I mean. No, to have gone through what often feels like the wrong puberty – well, that’s not something I’d wish on anyone.
While it’s difficult to remember that far back – sure, make your own jokes 😉 – I’m fairly certain I disliked being hulking and hairy. The former had ogrish vibes to it; that I was overly large, clumsy, and that didn’t sit with how I felt inside. As to the body hair situation, that just seemed to drive home the maleness of it all. Mind you, it took a while for my beard to develop, so perhaps there’s a blessing in that.
So other than filling the blog page with witterings of yesteryear, is there a point to this? 🙂 I guess I would say it’s possible to survive. It may not be great and certainly not ideal, but you get through it. You might, on and off, get used to it and if you’re lucky, it – gender distress – might go quiet for a time. That distress can fuel you; push you make the most of what you have, to find answers, maybe even find your tribe, and make the best of it.
Chams
It seems that most of Nottingham is having some type of road repair at the mo. Perhaps this is not a bad thing, given the mess the last junta made of the country! 😏 Older readers may wish to shout a little bit of politics! in the style of Ben Elton at this point 😉
But, roadworks it is and I guess it’s going to be a learning curve and using the old local knowledge to dodge the ring road. Given that, I was a little later to Chams’ HQ that I would have liked. Still, I was there to open up, and no-one was stood around waiting, so that’s a win in my book! The car park hadn’t got busy either, so again, small mercies.
I’d packed two outfits because it’s always good to have a spare, in my experience. I haven’t yet succumbed to taking two wigs… yet. Ah, let’s not open that door eh! 😁 Outfit two was my blue summer dress, cardy, and heels that (hopefully) worked with those colours.
However, my hope was the main outfit would work. It didn’t quite feel autumn-ish enough to go for a dress & opaques, and I wasn’t in the mood for jeans plus obligatory cute top. Indeed, I’d fallen lucky a month previous with a cute skirt I’d seen waaay back in the spring. Lucky in that it was in my size *and* was in the summer sale.
While the pattern is more spring flowers, the meadows aren’t quite back to just grass, so it’ll pass right? At least something ’round ‘ere might! 😁 So, I teemed it with a pale wrap cardigan, a little vest top, and my nude heels.
I also tried a different set of anti-chaffing shorts and these are tighter than Snags, which helped keep my hip pads in place all evening. Grateful for not having to pop too the loo, and hoik my shapewear shorts up, that’s for sure!
I had one of those rarer moments where I felt pretty. That the outfit, the make-up, and the colours had come together and worked. You may feel differently, and that’s okay. For me, I’m just going to keep that memory for a difficult day.
As to the evening itself, Anne was first through the doors and we had a bit of a catch-up while my face cement set 🙂 Likewise with Rosalind and Izzy who weren’t far behind her. I managed to embarrass myself by forgetting one of the more recent members was on their third visit. Whoops! Luckily they found that quite funny, so that’s not so bad.
I did hear of some sad news that one of our former organisers – Anne-Louise – passed away recently. She can’t have been very old, bless her. I remember Anne-Lou staffing the beverages back when we were downstairs in the ‘bar area’. It’s got quotes because it was more a breakfast bar as we didn’t have any alcohol. Along with Tracey & Sandi, she was part of my early years at Chams.
In happier news, Ellie (I think) and Sally have been working together to get another trans* night out going in Nottingham. I’d heard via the grapevine that Nottingham Invasion has drawn to a close. A shame, but so it goes some times. So Pints & More is the new evening. There was some good natured teasing, given the name is close to Pints & Straws, which I’m told is very much a Leeds First Friday event. I might have asked “sorry, did you say Pints Not Straws?” once or twice, but it was all taken in good humour.
That’s it for this week. Had a lazy morning on Friday to reclaim some rest. Well, lazy-ish – there was still the chores to sort out. But, the good news is they’re all done, so I can put my feet up over the weekend.
Stay fabulous!
L x