Monday, 24 November 2014

Another one bites the dust...

After being out and about all day I came home this evening only to find a message to say that someone I know had just died. Great post hey? Sadly this is becoming a rather too frequent an occurrence amongst that wonderful circle of people who have fully and openly embraced me after my change. Studies have shown that humans are happy with a circle of about a hundred and fifty friends who they know quite well, this is about the same size that the average village was for countless centuries. Every loss from that group is a small tragedy even if like Tom you were never going to live to a ripe old age because you were certainly a jolly but over weight guy.

Another funeral to add to the calendar. At least we all knew who Tom was and the role he played, his sharp mind and memory full of entertaining stories and the great contribution he made through his social work career. We shall attend his funeral and hear the eulogies and everyone will get a true picture of our jolly friend.

It seems almost stupid to type that amongst the cocktail of things which pushed me to transition, as late in life as I did, was the growing realisation that I was fast closing in on my own funeral judging by the ages of those around my dying off. Nobody at that funeral would have known a single fact about the real me apart from the painful daily performance I had played out for decades to avoid hurting other people's feelings.

Some years ago when I attended the first funeral as my true self I never felt so vulnerable and defenceless. Wearing a dress felt like I was going to challenge other mourners and draw attention away from the lost friend and towards myself, I felt quite naked and fearful.

From that feeling of fear came the exultation of relief and fully belonging and acceptance when nobody treated me any differently from anybody else. With it came the relief that when my day finally comes I have a wide circle of friends who have come to know and I hope love the real me.

Saturday, 8 November 2014

My remembrance day.

One thing has never changed in T blogging over the years and that is the quiet weekends...

I can only hope that everyone is out trying to get as much out of life as they can. This weekend is Remembrance day here in the UK, modern life does not think the sacrifices worthy of an actual remembrance at the time on the actual day any more, Quite telling really...

I know that there is now a special Trans remembrance day but I , in my quiet corner of the universe, cannot help being stirred to remember "our" losses and the battles we have fought with ourselves, our families, the aggressive, hostile, bigoted media and especially the medical services which have dragged their feet for three generations in their willingness to help those with our condition.

I have been reading online for some years now and shocked myself first by how much has started to drift from my memory now that I have settled so comfortably on this side of transition and secondly by the litany of suffering and horror which started to come back. The countless reports of murders even murders of friends of those who are trans! Deliberate stark suicides, often by those who had seemed to be doing well, sometimes by simple neglect in treating an illness to take the quick and easy way out.

The deaths sound bad enough and I hope the future will see fewer as the media seems to be slowly stopping harassment of us but there is another group of sufferers who need remembering.

Those of us who accept who we are and decide to do something about it are in a minority, like an iceberg the great mass is hidden but they have chosen to accept the suffering that living in an alien body brings. Many thought that finding a partner and creating a family would squeeze out those dark thoughts and they could live comfortably and undiscovered, countless thousands must have done this down the ages and passed unnoticed.

I am especially thinking of those who have recognised their condition and shown themselves here online only to find themselves unable to bring themselves to stretch the bonds which bind them to effect an escape. Of the countless blogs I have found over the years what I have left to haunt me are those who remain trapped but know that release could be so close. That kind of endless suffering is visceral and unforgettable. They are the one's I am remembering from our war with identity...