I'm in a rock and roll band...

I've been watching the 'I'm in a rock and roll band' programmes with great interest - as I always do anything about forming and being in bands.  That's because it's been a big part of my life and I recognise the templates of egos, bust-ups and glories presented by films like 'The Doors' and 'The Commitments'.


Our band came together when we were at school and used to bunk off to play guitars up in the music block.  In those days that sort of thing wasn't encouraged - there was a Dr Strangelove element of 'you can't play music in here, this is the music block'.


Nevertheless we used to play on our cheap guitars and second hand amps - actually through large tape recorders at first, learning quickly.


I was attracted to it because I felt like an outsider and bands promise outsiders a way in.  I was never very popular at school but once I got hold of a guitar I found something I could just do - and do very well.  In fact I had a natural talent for it - I literally went from unable to play to being the best guitarist in the school in a matter of months.


And for an unpopular weird kid this was quite a turnaround...


We grew in confidence and all of us got better and better - until we all bought an equal contribution, an important element in keeping a band together, I think.


Of course my history with music has always been complicated because the whole time I was posturing on stage in a probably rather macho way I was covering up the fact that really I just wanted to be a girl.


So, I would be the one most likely to leave the band when the inner conflict got too much.  Then I would miss it - and my friends - and crawl back in again.


I remember one time going to see them play when I wasn't in the band and crying for hours afterwards - about missing them and also about the gender thing all wrapped into one - it was a weird, inarticulate howl.


But there's an important thing in there - that through playing I have been able to express the frustrations I've felt.  So playing guitar and my feelings about my gender have been part of the same deal.


Now the band is still officially going but we're finding it hard to meet up and play because everyone is busy with their own thing.


For my part I feel like I don't need that persona any more to be honest - I am so delighted to have found the truth of what I am and want to be.  Yes, I could never play guitar in front of anyone again.


BUT I'm not going to leave the band and I hope it keeps going in some form.  Because I do like playing the music and, most importantly of all, being with my friends who are my family now.  We've been through so much together and I really love them.


So we'll see.  In the meantime the hard skin on my fingers is softening up from lack of playing guitar and I'm thinking I might be able to get my nails done.


There's a transgressive, deep, truthful joy in not having to be in a rock and roll band after all these years.  But there's also a lot of love there and I won't be throwing that away...

Approx waiting time...

I had a questionnaire today from the Mental Health team asking me how helpful I found their service.  Well.... I suppose it got me to Charing Cross GIC - which is what I wanted - but they did do that with an unbelievable amount of faffing amount and pointless kerfuffle along the way.


I know the NHS is stretched - and I can understand that they need to make sure you are a genuine case, but quite honestly they just don't seem to know how to handle this issue and a bureaucratic nightmare is the result. 


Let me give you a flavour of it.  When I went to my Doctor in September 2008 and said 'I can't live as a man - I think I'm a woman' he looked at me rather fearfully and delivered the shock admission 'I don't really know anything about this'.  When was the last time you heard a doctor say that !!?


Actually, to be fair it wasn't my GP - who has been pretty good - but just a doctor at the surgery.  What I wanted was a referral to Charing X there and then - how naive I was.  He said I would be offered specialised counselling... ooooh


As it was a few weeks later I was sent to be assessed by a Counselling Psychologist or something.  He was very nice and thought they could help me. Then I got a letter saying the wait would be five months to see anyone - not a 'specialised' counsellor - that never materialised.


I went back to my Doctor and spoke to my GP this time - he was helpful and said he would refer me to Charing X.  Probably the skirt and the heels persuaded him I was pretty serious about the whole thing.


Soooo, next thing was a letter from Charing X saying they couldn't accept referrals from GPs, it would have to be from the mental health team.  But the counselling bloke I saw before couldn't do it - I'd have to see a 'proper' shrink.


This is where it gets really hilarious... I got a letter from the mental health team asking me to ring them if I wished to pursue gender reassignment and would like an appointment.  So I rang them and they said they'd send me an appointment.  Er... OK.  Odd.


I got an appointment for 19th January 2009 - four months after I went to the doctor.  The counselling people rang me in the interim and said I should request to come off their list because they wouldn't recommend me having two types of therapy.  As it was I took up the option of counselling offered by my employer - which was excellent and happened straight away with no wait at all.


So, yeah, I saw the shrink.  Not the first one I've seen.  He wasn't very nice really and just seemed to be going through the motions - ticking off things on his clipboard.  When I left I found I was locked in (because this is where they send you to be sectioned!) so I had to find someone to let me out!  nice.


Anyway - I then got a copy of a letter sent to Charing Cross with a very brief and not very accurate version of my account and referring to me throughout as 'he' and 'him'.  Apparently I changed my name from Jason to JAYNE and this gave me a sense of "relief and pleasure" - quote, unquote, although I never said that.


Relief and pleasure - sounds a bit weird to me!


On the 12th February 2009 I got a letter from Charing Cross saying they would have to request funding from my NHS trust before I could attend so they would be sending them a fax.  They were sorry they couldn't process my referral.


Then the NEXT DAY I got a letter saying I would be given an appointment... what was the point of that!!?


But I wasn't given an appointment there and then, oh no.  First I had to sign something to say I wanted an appointment - then I week later I was sent another letter with - yes - an appointment!!


That appointment was six months away on 2nd September 2009 - about a year after I first went to the Doctors.


And my second appointment was eight months after that...


So, if you stuck with all that - what do you think?  I'm sure that could have been achieved without the flim-flam couldn't it?  Doesn't it seem a bit mad?


Now I am waiting for my clinician at Charing Cross to write to my GP and ask them to prescribe oestrogens... HOPEFULLY this will happen soon but you can see why I am getting pretty tired of waiting.  And will twenty forms have to be filled out, signed and stamped in triplicate before this happens!?


At least things are happening, I think - and my next appointment is only three months away so that's much better.   


The dear old NHS eh?  I am grateful for it and I'm sure it will get me there in the end - but can you see why I am just a teensy, weensy, tiny bit frustrated?!!

Overwhelmed !

You know what - people are good.  Don't let anyone tell you any different.


So many people have been so kind and supportive to me - it's amazing.  I always knew most people were kind - I just never knew how good they were.


When I started this transition someone said to me that I would alienate a lot of people who love me and they wouldn't understand.  What a crock that was - everyone who matters is 100% behind me - I never thought it could be like this.


And when I walk past someone who looks me up and down and looks angry, well, it means nothing to me any more because I have a crowd of people at my shoulder shouting encouragement.


You have all given me the strength to carry on and do this - and that strength will carry on into the future.  Whatever happens, I just wanted to thank you.


My dream is coming true - there's no clever way to put it, nothing poetical to say.  My dream is coming true and if I've been brave along the way it's only because of all the wonderful people whispering in my ear : 'you go girl' ...


xxxxxxx

2nd Appointment Blog...

Consider this picture of Marilyn to be a celebration of all things female on this auspicious day...


Well anyway as most of you know I had my second appointment at Charing Cross Gender Identity Clinic today and I'm going to tell you about it, seeing as so many of you have been kind enough to ask...


After 8 MONTHS of waiting for the 20th May 2010 it has finally been and almost gone.  The first bit of good news is that my next appointment is on 23rd August - so it does seem as if the horrific waits are only for the first and second appointments and things should speed up a bit now I'm 'in' a bit more. Basically once you've seen two clinicians (that's what they call them - rather than 'psychiatrists') you can start treatment, providing they're both happy.


Last time I went to the GIC there wasn't really anyone else in there - this time the place was full of other women of my ilk.  It was a pretty weird feeling sitting there with a load of other tall skinny trannies!   Between you guys and me it did make me feel pretty good about my age - which at 35 is pretty young for transition - and the fact that I have my own hair!!  


Bless the ladies who have to resort to wigs - it must suck.


The 'clinician' I saw was a very charming and slightly eccentric bloke who spent half the time talking about the Rolling Stones and Winston Churchill.   Quite possibly he was checking me out using some shrinky trick of seeing how I related in a conversation - they are trying to ascertain how you function socially, I think.


He went through my family history briefly and asked a load of questions - ones you won't be hearing about guys (sorry!) and ones like 'Do you have any friends you could borrow 20 quid from?'  and 'Do you have any loans?' - weird stuff maybe, but it's all about ensuring you are living successfully in your chosen role / target gender / whatever you want to call it. 


After this chit chat he asked me what I wanted from them and I straightforwardly said 'everything' !  Then he asked me to be a bit more specific so I said help to get my gender recognition cert, throat surgery (for adams apple), hormone treatment and, ultimately, gender surgery (reconstruction, reassignment, whatever).


Taking these things in order :  I have found before that the clinicians at the GIC aren't that impressed by all the legal flim-flam that goes with getting your gender recognition cert.  He didn't seem to be of the opinion it would make much difference to be honest.  Hmm - I'd still like it though.


He thought it would be unlikely the panel would grant it unless I was 'settled' into hormone treatment and referred for surgery.  This isn't how the system is supposed to work as I understand it but this guy is the top consultant geezer so he must know his onions.  So, a bit of bad news there in a way.


However - good news - he was prepared to refer me to the surgeon at Charing Cross who carries out the adams apple surgery - tracheal shave or whatever it's called - so woop!  bring it on!   I am desperate to get that sorted - I don't know what the wait for it will be like.


And best of all he is going to write to my GP and ask that I be prescribed hormones!  yay!!!   I will be given a low dose of oestrogen initially as it helps breast development if it's given slow and gradually.  To even have someone sitting there talking about such an entity as my boobs was pretty amazing!


I will also have injections every three months which will stop the little bleeders producing testosterone (you know who the culprits are - I won't elaborate).  So yay yay yay - no testosterone!!  woop!


And once my hormonal state is the same pre-surgery as it will be post-surgery (ie the culprits will have stopped working to such an extent it'll be like they're not there) then the situation can be made permanent ... ie I can be referred.


So... we'll see.  I have had enough experience of the slowness of the dear old NHS to not be jumping up and down with excitement quite yet - but there's cause for optimism.  I am pretty cautious with my joy, as you may gather.  


Let's just say I walked out of there into the sunshine feeling pretty happy.


I listened to the song 'By The Sea' today by Suede and the lyrics seem pretty appropriate right now : 


'Gonna start my new life, I won't touch the ground...'


Thanks everyone


x

F*CKING ANGRY BLOG !!!

I'm not angry at the moment, but this week I have felt angry quite a lot so I thought I'd talk a bit about that particular emotion.


I've always had a bit of an anger problem, ever since I was a kid.  Obviously all kids get angry but I got angry in a 'maybe she needs to go and see a psychiatrist' kind of way.  Or rather, 'he needs to go and see a psychiatrist' because no one called me 'she' then.


I've always been one for laying on the floor and having a tantrum.  I wonder why.  It's loss of control isn't it - you lose control inwardly because you've lost control outwardly.  Maybe you're trying to get it back.  Yes - because when you flip your lid you are kind of in control of the situation.  You are the catalyst.


I get into trouble frequently at work because I've sent someone an email in anger or done something else silly like say openly that someone is a fucking prick.  It's not good - I spend a lot of time saying things like 'I can see what I did was wrong'.


I think I can probably be quite scary.  I've certainly seen fear awaken in the eyes of very large and threatening people when I've snarled at them like a rabid dog.  I've also developed a 'paddington stare' - whereby I glare at someone in the manner of that particular bear when he was pissed off.


I can make people visibly quake with that.


But you know what - maybe I just have a lot to get angry about, seeing as people routinely treat me like a joke.  Like yesterday a man drove past me in his car and burst out laughing when he saw me - and he wasn't even showing off because there was no one else in the car with him.


Hey - guess what - I get angry.


And at work, I never got angry before I started my gender transition - I never got into trouble by saying the wrong thing.  It happens now because some people are horrible and - hey guess what - I get ANGRY.


I think the answer is to channel it - do something good with it.  Bob Geldof felt pretty angry about the kids starving in Ethiopia - you see what I mean?  Now he probably feels angry because his daughter is more famous than him for no discernible reason...


Also yesterday I had to go the chemist in Hoo (where I live) which always involves walking past the horrible kids who hang around down there.  I had been listening to the Sex Pistols during the drive home and, you know what, I think when I got out the car I probably gave off the impression of being a person not to be fucked with.  


They didn't comment anyway.  Well, I think one of them tried the standard sarcastic wolf whistle but he didn't actually manage to do it - which is quite funny.  He just sort of made a pathetic slight whistling sound.


If anger can make me walk down the street with my head held high in defiance than maybe it can be a good thing.

Why I'm a bleeding heart liberal leftie...

Well this is one reason - George Orwell.  His writing burns with a fire of compassion and intelligence and reminds us what being a person is - or at least should be.

Well, I am a bleeding heart liberal leftie, yes.  And this seems a good time to be thinking about that - what with elections afoot and it being the start of May, when people start marching.

Of course I'm in a minority group - so is that why I'm a BHLL ?   Maybe - but we're all in a minority of some kind aren't we, at some time?

Why is it that I threw my complimentary Daily Mail in the bin yesterday (recycling bin, obvs) - the putrid rag that Tesco insist on providing me with every week (grrr) ...?

Well I have a child and I encourage him to share and play nicely and be considerate - to be a good person.  There's no great philosophy required to tell us what being a good person is - surely we all know.

It's just being kind, thoughtful, considerate... but also aware, independent and not in a dream.

Right wing people frequently accuse left wing people of living in a dream world.  But we're not in a dream - they are.  Or rather a nightmare... a world of dark shadows, conspiracies and fears.  The Daily Mail world of horror and outrage and fury.

The left wing is where you stop and think, consider and empathise.  

There's nothing actually airy-fairy about thinking about other people, understanding that we're all clinging to this rock in space, that we all breathe the same air and cherish our children's futures... as JFK put it.  That's logical - that's using a bit of common.

Look at the behaviour and attitudes which typify the right wing.  For example - the unquestioning adulation of the armed forces.  There's nothing that moves me to gaze in wonderment at them.  If you're in the army you have to be an instrument of the powers that be - at the moment it seems rather like being the pawn of empire.  They should certainly be pitied for some of the shit they have to do.

But the soldiers who ruffle the hair of Iraqi children will soon start accidentally blowing them up when they're ordered to start killing again.  It's a complicated, awful mess.  Becoming a pawn yourself and allowing yourself to be manipulated - well ... it's the behaviour of someone in a dream world.  Wake up and think for yourself.  The hero worship is just the kneejerk reaction to a whole sackload of guilt - an attempt to get back to the old days when we knew who and what we were fighting.

Look at political correctness.  That odious concept was made up by right wing people who demanded (and continue to demand) the right to be senselessly cruel.  It's bullies crying that they're not allowed to bully anymore.

It's part of the dream - this idea that you can't say Merry Christmas and you can't sing Baa Baa Black Sheep and you can't say you're English.  I am English and proud of it.  I don't particularly identify with the flag of St George though - in this country we have an atavistic mistrust of flags, and that's a good thing.  We've seen the terrible things that happen under them.  There's only one Saint George for me - and his picture is above.

What else?   Er... immigrants, language...   why do they come here if they can't speak English?   The intolerance, the inability to cope with the idea that in modern 21st century England you might bump into someone who doesn't speak English that well.

What drives someone to leave their own country and come to foreign place full of nasty people who point fingers at them and judge?  Is it really ideal from their point of view that they can't speak English?  I'm sure they'd rather be able to.

What drives them?  Greed?   They're too lazy to work so they come here to claim benefits.  Wake up!!  You're in a dream!  Desperation - that's what it is. Sad, horrible desperation.  They just want a slice of the cake we stuff down our throats like Mr Creosote because we were lucky enough to be born in a prosperous country.  

What would you tell your child to do?  Share.  Don't judge.  Be kind.  Listen.  Understand.   Otherwise the world really will be a nightmare.