Wednesday, 18 November 2015

Rant

Apologies for this, just have to get it off my chest.

As anyone that has read this blog for a while will know we've had a lot to deal with over the years with my son's Leukaemia, bone marrow transplant and tumour surgeries.

In all that time I've done everything I can to make sure that my family have a roof over their heads and all the support they need. Some of that has meant that I have had to be at home in order that I can work while they are staying in Bristol for treatment, and while that is happening travel to and from Bristol (a 80 plus mile round trip, at least twice a week, with weekend trip being done either because they can come home for a couple of days or to allow my partner to go off to her Mum's for a few days break.

Even during the recent surgeries I did my best to make sure that she could get a few days at home, which allowed her a bit of normality by going to work. I even made my way in the rain to meet her so that she could come back up and not have to drive through fairly empty city streets first thing on a Sunday morning.

So after all that what does she go and do. Post something on Facebook which is the result of missing her Dad, my Mum and also her Aunt.

Now I wouldn't mind but when she turns around and says that her Aunt was her rock then after everything I've done; not just while our son was ill but before he was even born; if it wasn't for us getting together then there is a distinct chance that she would either be living in her Mum's spare room, in a bedsit somewhere or, like she was when we met, in a friends spare bedroom; then I feel like I've been kicked in the teeth.

In the discussion we've just had about it she said she didn't mention me because she didn't know how to refer to me. For goodness sakes, the majority of our friends know I'm trans and that I've transitioned. Some of them don't care about that. Some of them, I personally think, have been arses about it.

I suppose some of this is me expecting too much. After four years I sort of expected that she would have come to some sort of terms with how our relationship is but it appears not.

Grrrr!!! Life is so frustrating at times.

Rant over. Thank you for reading.




Monday, 9 November 2015

A Hard Day

Today has been a hard one. Suprisingly hard in fact and all from the silliest of things, an email.

Of course it wasn't an ordinary email. This was an important one as it was a response to me applying for a newbie slot at a burlesque show. Although the original email turned me down, subsequent ones did say that I was welcome to try again and that the promoter looked forward to seeing me perform, but when I was ready to perform a solo on stage, but at the moment based on the video I sent I'm not at that point. If I work on it then I should be able to send another video in a few months time.

None of that was really comforting though. I found myself fighting back tears as I got ready for work, the smile I put on for my family, and throughout the day as I worked at my desk and talked to colleagues, was one that I am very familiar with. Its the one that I used to wear day in day out before I transitioned, part of the mask I used to wear to hide the real me away while letting others see what they expected to see. The mask that I thought I had finally put away for good.

Its funny really how such a trivial thing can have such a big impact on a person. That email made me start thinking about a lot of stuff.

I've loved doing burlesque as anyone whose read this blog, and the stuff I've been posting at Mira's, and watching my performance videos will know. Although doing the show with the troupe the other weekend was great fun, and performing at a birthday party the weekend before last, with a couple of the girls, was just as much fun, watching back my performance from the show, seeing how I looked; and hating the fact that there was a masculine face, his face, which even the make-up couldn't hide, atop my body.

Being so picky over my performance that I found fault with everything I did. My timing was out at some many points that even though I knew the routine by heart I still found myself out of step with the rest of the troupe. I had a couple of nice comments from people, one even asked if I planned to go solo because its so much easier not beign part of a troupe when you perform. The cynic in me sits here wondering if she so all of my mistakes and this was her way of telling me I'd be better off performing solo.

All day I've been wondering whether I should pack up all my burlesque things and drop them off at the studio so that the other girls can make better use of them. I still haven't made my mind up, although I've not admitted that to our troupe's leader and choreographer.

I thought that after everything I've done in the last year that I'd have been ready to perform on stage, especially after doing a couple of group performances now. I was so wrong and honestly don't know where I am with burlesque. It would be so easy to just give up, to accept that this is a dream that was never going to become real.

As the day went on everything else began to unravel. So many things seem pointless. The temptation has been to just withdraw from things, to delete or deactivate my accounts on various websites; Reddit, Facebook, UK Angels, Pink Essence, all the places that I frequent. To quietly disappear from the online world.

Where would that leave me though? Well I'd still have my running and triathlons. I accepted that I was ever going to be any good at those. As long as I can get across the finish line then that's good enough for me. I might long to find myself standing at the water's edge in Kona, waiting to take part in the World Championships but that is never going to happen.

I know what I'm feeling is likely to be part of the emotional rollercoaster that we go through post-op, that doesn't make it any easier to deal with.

Today has been a long hard one.

It hasn't helped that in 11 days time its the first anniversary of Mum's death. This evening I found myself wishing that she was still alive; that she was still around to look after Dad and make sure that he was alright. I found myself wishing that, instead of Mum getting ill and dying last year, it had been me that has died.

So from a simple email turning me down for a place in a show I came to the conclusion that I'm not special, I'm not talented, I'm not here for any purpose of significance; and if the universe has any sense of what people really need then 12 months ago I would have been dying because of terminal cancer and Mum would have been the one who was going to be around to look after people and do more worthwhile things than I ever will.

So with misty eyes, I'll say goodnight and thanks for reading my meanderings.