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I haven’t Forgotten you.


I just have had nothing new happen on the transition front. The rest of my life has been a distraction and an excuse for procrastination. I’m still sitting on my name change application. All I need to do is get down to a commissioner and get it notarized and I can mail it in. It’s been months since it’s been ready.

Some other interesting non-transition events have come my way. The aforementioned move. Jury Duty (that’s an amusing story in itself. maybe worth another entry) and just adjusting to my new roomateless life in a new location with new transit requirements and logistical challenges.

So, Big Hugs all. More to follow soon I hope.


Just moved.


I just changed addresses for a smaller out of the way place with cheaper rent than my well located larger former apartment

right now I’m tired. Supervising the movers was surprisingly draining even if they made it look easy. Assembling my Ikea furniture taught me new extremes in swearing.

But I’m home in my new home now. It’s just picking up the pieces.





I have a certain restlessness, a feeling I need to be doing something yet unable to stick to whatever I decide to do. tv doesn’t entertain me. games do not distract me. I cannot work on my novel the words won’t come and I’m running out of places to put the stuff I’ve packed into boxes. and it’s too early for bed… argh argh argh.



I haven’t had much to write about lately or just not felt like writing.

My transition is rather static right now. I’m holding off on the name change until I’ve renewed some ID that’s due and done moving.

Surgeries and hormones are still a distant dream. Strangely enough I’m not unhappy. It still makes me … better to be full time as a woman, Though,I’ve slowly let go of some womanly ways. Heels have stopped getting worn (I usually wear ballet slippers with a dress) dresses have moved to a less prominent place in my closet in favour of pants and frock length tops. I go days without bothering with make up. I’m … comfortable.

Other things are keeping me busy. my upcoming move has me more worried than necessary. I keep conflating issues such as getting rid of excess junk or dealing with my broken bed into monumental chores that make the whole project seem like a big deal.

It says something about my self confidence and faith in my friends that I’ve been planning the move as if I’ll have no help. I’m hoping that I’m just being depressive about that.

I wish I was less tired. I’m getting better I think but I’m still not fit for work and still not doing enough in my free time to be happy with myself. everything is tiring and some days being alive is a chore.

At least my diabetes has been stable and in control.

So, Dear readers, that’s where I am right now.

Big Hugs




Just something for the sake of adding something


So… life has been… interesting… this past year. Going on long term disability. seeking psychiatric help, joining the Legion, changes in medication, changes to the changes due to interactions and reactions, a dramatic adjustment to my sleep/wake pattern. Friends disappointing me others proving to be friends, applying for a new place, securing said new place pending notice to vacate at my old, getting an eye infection, missing remembrance day, Reintroducing myself to my family at thanksgiving, I think I could go on there’s been a lot.

I’m a little scared and down for the last two months I feel I’ve been getting stronger but that was preceded by a pull back where i lost all energy and activities of daily living became monumental chores forget actually doing anything that resembled a return to working life or even just getting a workout.

I don’t know If I’ll be ready to return to work on the current plan (January) and I’m afraid of failure

I’m frustrated by my current lack of energy and wonder if it’s related to a new psychotropic medication I’m on or some other external factor (like my currently low haemoglobin)

Good news is that My blood sugars have been surprisingly stable and uniformly low  since about thanksgiving so almost 5 weeks. my haemoglobin a1-c tests have been in the 0.7 range (which is not a healthy person’s but not bad for a diabetic)

I wouldn’t have self described as a worrying but i find with my new self-awareness (thanks to meds and therapies) that I worry a lot. I tend to conflate chores and trouble into difficulties much bigger than they really are.

So, I worry about my Nursing course, I worry about my move in three months I ruminate about all sorts of future difficulties at the expense of being here, now, in the moment… but I’m aware at least and trying to redirect those energies to more useful tasks.

One step at a time, I can walk around the world.

Okay so I made a few changes…


… to how this blog takes comments. you have to be a logged in user now. Those of you who have my email  and wish to comment please let me know so I can set up a user profile. Those who don’t please standby by while I figure out how to get my blog to forward stuff to me.

A little shout out to my family here.


I was home for Thanksgiving for the first time since I decided to go full time.  Everyone was wonderful. My brother (who I know is having trouble with his own journey regarding my transformation) was really trying, My neice and nephew were great. It seems the next generation doesn’t have the hangups mine does. My cousin was awesome comfortable enough to make some of the witticisms that make him like a ‘cool uncle’.


The latter leads me to another observation. I think sometimes we try too hard to be ‘gentle’ and ‘inoffensive’ It becomes a form of condescension. I actually felt left out in my veteran’s circles until I heard a trans joke. And my cousin accusing me of transition to take advantage of the ‘ladies first’ feeding policy made me laugh so hard I nearly pee’d myself.

Anyhow I hope your Thanksgiving was happy…. And DAMMIT it’s not Columbus day in this country so quite throwing native exploitation rants in my face.

Big Hugs.


PS used my passport instead of my driver’s license and no one at the airport blinked. let alone accused me of using my husband’s ID. I’m less like the joke that starts this blog than  the scrutineer at the political polling center had me thinking.