The way ahead

I'm planning on starting my Real Life Experience on the 9^th January.

Here's the rough plan timetable for my transition. I know its going to sound really clinical but its the easiest way for me to work out everything I need to be doing.

24^th October

Meet with personnel to start firming up the plans for dealing with things at work.

Meet with some friends at my vicar's house in order to talk about the way ahead for us as a family.

25^th October

Going to Bristol, going to see friends at burlesque class and then going to see my oldest friend and his wife  before coming home. Time to explain to them what is happening. Dreading this conversation.

Early November

Meet with the SENCO and Nurse at my son's school to let them know what is happening so that they can make arrangements to provide my son with any support that he needs.

15^th November

Complete Deed Poll changing name in preparation for going full time.

21^st November

Next appointment at The Laurels with the counselor. Go over what I've done to date, what I think I've still got to do and when I'm planning on doing them.

End November, beginning December

Start informing everyone who needs to know of the change of name. For instance change driving license, bank, doctors etc.

December 16^th

Project Christmas meal and last day at work as Bill.

December 20^th

Go back into work for an hour in order to announce what is happening to my immediate colleagues. Email will then go out to the rest of the company informing them of my change.

January 9^th

Return to work as Jenna.

Diagnosis Transsexual

Tuesday 11^th October, 11am. One of the most important dates and times in my entire life.

This was the date and time of my appointment with the doctor at The Laurels where he would confirm the diagnosis that the counsellor had put on the report she'd written after my three assessment sessions with her.

The report had said that I was male to female transsexual. There was a slim chance that the doctor could disagree with that.

After seeing my son off on his French trip, I went home, finished getting ready and then at 8 o'clock left the house, filled the car up with petrol and the popped around to my friend's house where I was going to finish getting ready to go to Exeter.

By get ready I mean put on my make-up and get changed into the outfit I was going to wear for my appointment.

I'd thought long and hard about what I was going to wear and had picked out a top and corduroy slacks, a smart, professional looking dress and a top and skirt. We reviewed my choices and I went with the dress. I really should have gone with the top and slacks instead but I wasn't to know at the time.

Commandeering the bathroom I got ready and a little while later emerged. By just after 9:15 we were in the car and heading to Exeter.

The drive itself was pleasant, a splattering of rain but nothing too heavy. Unlike my last trip to Exeter this time the roads on the outskirts were very quiet with no long traffic jam.

We parked the car in the nearby car park just before 10:30. With time to spare before my appointment we headed towards Exeter High Street and a quick visit to Boots and Lloyds bank.

On the way there I caught people glancing at me out of the corners of their eyes and also openly looking. This was totally unlike the last time I'd gone into Exeter with my friend. Admittedly last time I was wearing jeans and a top, this time I was wearing a dress with a hem that ended well above the knee. I was beginning to regret the choice of outfit. As Homer Simpson would says “Doh!”

My friend tried to get me to relax, including at one point giving a push that caused me to stagger. I laughed at that point and began to relax, not caring what anyone thought.

We made our way to The Laurels arriving with 15 minutes to spare before my appointment.

Apart from the staff there was one other person there when we arrived and she offered to make us a drink. Coffee in hand I sat down and we chatted for a couple of minutes before my counselor came out of her room and saw me, she asked me in for a quick chat before my appointment.

We sat down and went over some recent events. After about 10 minutes the receptionist knocked on the door to let us know that the doctor was ready to see me.

The doctor greeted me in the reception area and we went through to the consulting room.

My report was on the desk

The doctor wanted to go over the report to clarify some things. For the next half an hour I talked about my childhood, the first few years after leaving home and moving to Portsmouth and also my journey from when I first saw a doctor to talk about being transsexual to being sat there waiting to hear his decision. We talked about my son's illness and how it had delayed things.

At one point the doctor looked at me and said that he didn't see Bill sitting in front of him.

He talked about how gender dysphoria is a continuum with really mild cases at the one end and more severe cases at the other.

Eventually he told me that he agreed with the counselor conclusion and that I was male-to-female transsexual. He thought that I sit somewhere in the middle of the dysphoria spectrum. He did say that mine wasn't a typical case because I've managed to hold out for so long. My dysphoria is getting worse though and he understood that become a woman is the only way that I can deal with it.

After going over my past and his confirm the diagnosis he explained what the way ahead is.

To start with I'll be continuing to have therapy/counselling. My next appointment is already planned for the middle of November. For the remainder of my time at the clinic I'll be meeting with the counsellor every 6 weeks to discuss how things are going and for her to help me as I develop as a woman.

Every 3 months I'll meet with doctor to go over my treatment. After 3 to 6 months of me being with The Laurels I should be able to start on hormones. I've an appointment to see doctor a week after I start my Real Life Experience. My next appointment will then be at the end of March or more likely the beginning of April. At that appointment we'll be discussing me starting on hormones.

My Real Life Experience will take 2 years, at the end of that I'll be able to look at getting the final surgeries to complete everything.

In the meantime I can get back in contact with the Speech Therapist that I saw last year to arrange sessions with her to work on my voice. I can also look at getting some more laser hair removal sessions to clear the hair on my face.

Everyone is really friendly at the clinic, both staff and other patients. The clinic was really busy as apart from other patients with appointments there were a few others there as it gets used as a drop in for patients and ex-patients when they are in the area.

After we'd finished at the clinic we wandered into the city centre in order to get something to eat. We'd planned on going to Prezzo and had an idea where it was, right at the opposite end of the high street to where the clinic was. We started walking down the high street, I noticed people glancing at me from time to time, darn short dress was drawing more attention to me than a pair of trousers would have done.

We reached where the restaurant should have been but couldn't find it so we walked all the way back up the other way in case we'd gone in the wrong direction, passing the turning for the clinic we carried on. Still no sign of Prezzo.

At this point I suggested we make our way to Hotel Chocolat which we knew how to find and ask there. The assistant was really helpful and sent us back down the high street in the direction we'd originally gone. I'd even asked her a few questions to clarify exactly where the restaurant was, my voice is nowhere feminine enough but she responded in a friendly manner and with a smile.

Running the lunchtime gauntlet I again noticed people looking at me but nobody uttered a word, certainly not that I could hear. This time we carried on a bit further and found the restaurant.

A waiter sat us at a table off the side of the main restaurant as I wanted to be away from most of the diners. The only other people eating there were a group of women and an older couple. The couple finished their meal shortly after we arrived and left.

The waitress came and took our food and drink order and kept popping back to check on us over the course of our meal. Again she behaved in a friendly manner.

Finally we finished our meal and made our way to the till to pay.

This was the first time I've been in a restaurant to eat as a female. It was a another major step for me and ticked off yet another thing that I take for granted but have to do for the first time as a female.

A quick visit to Debenhams to have a browse around the clothes, nothing really caught Kate or my I and we left empty handed. Another visit to Hotel Chocolat, again leaving empty handed, then it was back to the car and the drive back.

Even though my son was away I couldn't go back to the house without changing and removing my make-up as it was still early and there was the chance of bumping into one of the neighbors who don't know about my plans. In fact I did bump into one of them as I was making my way from the car to the house.

So I've bored you with what happened in Exeter, you'll be wanting to know what is going to be happening in the months ahead.

My other half still hasn't told her family. We're going to arrange to go up to where they live at some point after half term so that my sister-in-law can be told, as she's likely to take the news more calmly, and then with her help tell my mother-in-law. I don't know how or when she's going to tell father-in-law but he's going to take the news the worst I suspect. Do I care? Not really. We all know he's got a low opinion of me since I kicked him out of the house. My other half said that it might be easier for me to tell her family. A bit late to suggest that to me. I told her I'd have done it ages ago if it had been up to me. Not leave it until the last minute.

My other half has thought a bit about what she wants going forward from now, she's got half term week to think about things properly as we'll be talking about it when I get back. As of last Friday she wanted us to stay together as a family but I might have to move into the small bedroom when I go full time.

Looks like I'll be doing a bit of decorating over the coming weeks.

An Incredibly Silly Girl

OK, I've been incredibly stupid.
I've not bothered talking to people, let things slide, let things get on top of me.
I have a lovely bruise on my arm as a temporary reminder of my stupidity.
Why? Well...

At about 1:30am in the early hours of Monday morning I woke up soaking wet with sweat.
I went downstairs and drank nearly two bottles of Lucozade. I then wandered back to bed, still dripping with sweat. Shortly after I was back downstairs having a drink of milk because my stomach felt a bit acidic, two bottles of fizzy blackcurrant drink will do that to you.

Of course it wasn't just that it was the painkillers I've been slowly overdosing with for the last few weeks, only slightly initially but up to nearly four times the daily recommended dose for the previous week.


As I say downstairs on the couch I realized that I'd gone too far with taking paracetamol, had let it get out of hand and didn't really want to die.
I prayed to God to let me get through the night and that if he did then I would seek help first thing in the morning. I was tempted to get up, get dressed and go to A&E there and then. The things that stopped me doing that were I wasn't sure I was in a state to go there on my own and whether or not I went on my own I'd have had to explain to my other half why I was going to the hospital. If she'd come with me then we'd have had to wake up her dad, who has been staying with us this week, and tell him.

I am so stubborn and pig-headed about things sometimes.

In the end I managed to get back to bed at 2am and get some sleep, even though I was still pouring with sweat.

6am and I was awake and out of bed as normal. I pottered around downstairs before everyone got up.

A shave, quick shower to get rid of the stale sweat and then I got dressed as if I was going to work. I sent my closest friend a text message to ask if I could come round to her place because I'd been really stupid and needed her to hold my hand. There was no way that I could face going to the hospital on my own.
At 8:30am I was ringing her doorbell.

Shortly after that we were in her car and driving into the town center.

Parking around the hospital is usually bad and Monday was no different. Rather than pay to use the hospital car park we drove to one of the town center car parks and left the car there. Its only a short walk back to the hospital from there.

I gave the receptionist at A&E my details and told her the reason I was there. She told me to take a seat.
Fortunately it wasn't busy at that time and I was seen by the triage nurse shortly after.

I went over why I was there and she filled in the paperwork and sent us back outside to wait for the doctor. Again it wasn't a long wait and we were back into the main department.

The doctor was really nice. Asked a load of questions and then took some blood so that they could check to ensure that I'd not done any damage to my liver. He also took the packets of paracetamol that I had in my bag, must have been about a dozen packs of 8 tablets in there.

With all that done he sent us back outside telling us that it would take between 20 minutes and an hour for the results to come back. In the end it took closer to 3 hours during which time we'd been for a coffee and then come back, stood outside A&E and then sat inside waiting.

When the results did come back everything was OK.

The doctor gave me a card with an appointment for the Tuesday to see the mental health team for follow-up. He'd assessed me as low risk. He was right, I'd scared myself so much that there was no way I was going to do something that stupid again.

After leaving the hospital I went back to work.

Before leaving for home I got a phone call from Alex, one of the nurses at the hospital who I'd contacted when I got into A&E first thing in the morning. We talked about what I'd done and a few other things.

Tuesday was a busy day.

I managed to get out of work and to the hospital for my 1pm appointment. The mental health nurse came to get me, explained that there would be two of them. She did most of the talking, asking me lots of questions. Her colleague took notes and asked the occasional question.

By the end of the appointment they were satisfied that I wasn't at risk of attempting to take my life again. They made some suggestions as to people I could contact if I did find myself experiencing similar feelings. They also agreed to send a copy of their report to my GP and also The Laurels GIC.

My GP is currently on holiday so I can't see her for a couple of weeks to follow up on everything.

The Laurels will get the report next week and the doctor will read it before I see him. I was told that its likely that what I tried to do will effect my treatment as the Primary Care Trust will want to know that I'm going to be able to cope with transitioning.

I fully expected that there would be some consequences. I'll find out what they are soon enough.

Right now I feel fine and know that there is no way that I would ever be able to do something like this again. There are quite a few people know what I've tried. My friend who was with me, the nurse from the hospital who my son has been meeting up with to talk things through and two women from church, one I bumped into outside A&E on Monday, the other I was meeting up with on Tuesday to tell about Jen.

If things start to get on top of me again I now know that there are plenty of people to turn to.

I have no intention of ever letting myself get so bad that I do something so irrational again. I've got far too much to live for and I don't want to become just another statistic.

Notes from a young man

In the last week I've found two notes written to me by my son.
The first one I found last Sunday morning slotted in between the keyboard and screen on my laptop:

Dad do you love me and my mum as much as you want to be a woman or do you not want me to love you as much as I did before you decided to do this. Think about this again for me and my mum before your appointment.
ps. Don't show mummy or talk about it.

He wrote that note after his mum had decided to discuss things with him last Saturday when I was out for the evening. I found out that he got upset when they were talking. What I haven't found out yet from either of them is what they discussed. I have tried but strangely neither of them can remember what was said. I did find some comments that my other half posted on Facebook. Don't know whether my son saw these comments because as soon as I did I told her that she shouldn't be making the sort of comments that she put because our son could see them, later that afternoon I couldn't find the comments so she might have removed them.

The second one I found this morning as I was sorting out some stuff:

I don't want to lose my mum like you because I'm starting to.

Maybe he did see the comments, maybe not. Either way his mum is showing him more that she is showing me.

I knew that this would be hard for everyone, didn't realise that my little boy would end up unable to talk to me and would resort to leaving me notes.

Choices

"The people I was watching on television had had their choice removed, shockingly, brutally. I, on the other hand, was lucky enough to have a choice still. And I could chose to try and stay alive, whatever happened, whatever it took.

That day, I knew I wasn't going to commit suicide."

Calie over at T-Central posted a copy of a blog post by someone from the UK where they talked about how they had avoided taking their own life the day before 9/11.
I read through the post and when I got to the end found the above. I keep forgetting that I have choices.
I can choose to transition or not.
I can choose to take control of my life or let it all run away from me.
I can choose continue to live at home or not.
I can choose to pull my life around and choose to live or I can choose to let the darkness that has been afflicting me a lot recently overwhelm me and take my own life.

Day in, day out I have choices.

A lot of people don't.

Those that died in 9/11 or in the bomb attacks in London or at other places around the world never had the choice.

All of the children that we've seen over the years in hospital sick, and in a number of cases who have passed away, didn't choose to be ill or to die of their illness.

All of those children did have a choice though, they could let their illness beat them or they could choose to beat the illness.

About 8 years ago I was at my sister-in-laws, we were having breakfast and Tracey came into the kitchen with the newspaper. She showed me an article about a young child. The young girl had spent time in hospital being treated for cancer. A short while before Christmas she'd gone into a form of coma. Just before Christmas she's come out of the coma. Now, a week later, she'd passed away.

As I finished reading the article Tracey looked at me and said, "she was at the children's hospital when we were there."

Shortly after that I went out for a run. As I raced down the country lanes tears began to run down my face as I thought about this little girl who had been taken from her family so early in life. I told myself then that I'd do what I could to help youngsters like her and their families.

Since then I've done a number of runs and swims for charity.

In recent months I've found that I've began to let things drift in some ways. I've been letting events make choices for me. In the last 12 months I've seriously considered suicide about 4 times. Not because I've chosen to transition, that is the one choice I've consciously made and which I'm completely happy with. Its everything else in life that I've simply given up control of, stopped making choices about. Those are the things that have driven me to the brink of suicide. Those are the things that I have to take back control of and start making choices with.

The first thing I'm going to do is get it firmly into my head that I have choices and that I am not going to commit suicide. I am not going to because I still have that choice to fulfill from all those years back, I am going to keep helping youngsters like that little girl and her family.

I choose to do that.

Gender Adventure: I am not transgender because

Gender Adventure: I am not transgender because:

I came across this post via T-Central.

In some ways it parallels my own story, my own feelings.

I didn't grow up in a woman only household but I did grow up knowing a lot of strong, caring women. They were the product of the society that they grew up in.

The men I grew up with were strong and supportive, very much the traditional providers as the society they were raised in expected them to be. My grandad was a miner, my dad was a stoker on a steam train, a bricklayer and a factory worker.

My relationship with my father was and still is very good, he's the strong, silent type. He is totally amazing with his grandchildren.

Just like my grandad was with me. He taught me to play chess, he took me fishing the one and only time that I've ever been. I think if he'd lived long enough he would have taught me to drive.

If I'd ever needed examples of what a man should be then both dad and grandad were those.

I can relate to the bloggers feelings as to why they are transgendered. Fate has dealt me a hand where my mind and body don't match but I'm dealing with it at last. I just wish I could have written something as good as this to describe my feelings about why I am and am not transgendered.

F64.0

Despite the weather this morning I managed to drive to Exeter. The SatNav told me that I would arrive at the car park with 10 minutes to spare before my appointment. Lots of time! The car park is about a minute walk from the clinic.
Ha!
I reached the outskirts of Exeter and ran into roadworks. Argh! Why today of all days did they have roadworks slowing the traffic down. Thoughts of trying to find a different route went through my head but there was no point as I was already on the most direct route into the city center.
25 minutes I was sat in traffic, nose to tail, heading into the city center. Eventually I found myself free of the traffic jam and the last two miles of the journey were done swiftly.
By this point I was so stressed out with everything that I was cursing. 20 minutes late for my appointment, I'd be lucky if I wasn't told that I had to remake the appointment for another day.
Fortunately, the counsellor dealing with me was OK and after a brief but slightly bizarre visit to the ladies, we sat down for the last of my 3 assessments.
I had to answer a few questions about my childhood and then had the chance to look over the report that had been written up for doctor to make his diagnosis.
I pointed out a couple of minor mistakes in what had been written and manage to ignore any problems with punctuation.
Everything seemed to be accurate.
Eventually I reached the summary at the end and found myself looking at those magical words "F64.0 male to female transsexual".
I had to ask what F64.0 meant and was told that it was simply medical speak to say that I was a transsexual.
The doctor still has to make the official diagnosis and could decide that I'm a F64.1 or dual role transvestite, I really hope he doesn't though.
The counselor said that is she'd not been sure of her diagnosis then she would have talked with the team to make sure. She also said in response to me asking if the doctor would make the same diagnosing that it was unlikely as the normally agree with her conclusions, however, there is that small chance.
I go back on the 17th October for the doctor to give me the good news that he agrees with the diagnosis, at which point I'll start doing everything I need to do in order to go full time next January. There's going to be a lot I need to do, not least making sure that I have enough clothes to wear to work for at least 7 days. Smart casual is the women's dress code, although I think they get away with outfits that are far from smart casual.
In the mean time I'm going to have to find an outfit to wear to the clinic when I see the doctor next month. Nothing too fancy but also nothing boring. I wore trousers to my first assessment. This time I'm going to go for a dress or a skirt. Something smart and casual that I can wear to go for a celebratory drink afterwards with my friend Kate.

When I left the clinic I did feel like a heavy weight had been lifted off me. I'd been feeling a bit down while traveling to Exeter. When I left the clinic I felt so much happier, more happy than I've felt in ages in truth.

Now I just have to explain what happened to my other half. Unsurprisingly she's not asked me what happened. She's not had a huge opportunity to ask but she has had the opportunity. I'll give her a couple of days to ask of her own volition and then raise the matter myself.

4 more months until I go full time. So exciting!