Hey all! Welcome to another episode of Danniella's Wild Dysphoria Ride! Please ensure all loose items are stored within the overhead compartments provided, in addition make sure you have signed the appropriate medical waiver before continuing.

Good?

Ok.

Let's begin...

This one took me a while to write up, it actually covers the events of a weekend from a couple weeks back (Actually the weekend following my original "First Time" post here: https://www.susans.org/forums/index.php/topic,162797.0.html)

A hell of allot happened on this weekend, both good and bad. But last time I posted in this format, people told me to keep writing, and to post more...so here we go I guess.

It's a long one...a hell of a long one actually, so long I had to spread it across multiple posts...but hopefully some of you can bear with it long enough and find it enjoyable in one way or another ^^;


ALL NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT THE IDENTITIES OF THOSE INVOLVED


Saturday, 8:30am. I stand in the middle of my tiny flat staring at myself forlornly in the mirror. The joyful events and positive feelings from last weekend seem like a far off memory now, like they happened to somebody else, a fictional character who exists only in the minds of the reader. The person staring back at me in glum silence was most certainly not the same person who had strutted through the streets of the capital mear days ago. A grey zip up hoodie over a smart black shirt hides the increasing swell of my breasts. Thick dark olive cargo pants attempt to conceal the altered curvature of my lower half.

I look, and feel like, a grey shadow of the woman from last week.

Sighing, I pick up my bulging weekend bag and head for the door...


8:32am. I warmly greet the only other woman in my life who has stood by me through the thick and thin of the last 5 years. She is a small car of asian origin, nothing too fancy. Her light blue paintwork gleams in the early morning sunlight. My wee "Belle" (An affectation of her original name "Blue bell").

Tossing the weekend bag on the empty passenger seat, I start her up. She purrs quietly and I breath a heavy sigh as I pull out of the street, talking to the car as I go.

"Wellp, no use putting it off any longer Belle" I say "it's time to go home..."


10:12am. A newly refurbished nursing home marks the halfway point of my epic journey home. I simultaneously turn off the ignition and slam my head against the steering wheel in exasperation. I could have done without the additional stress of visiting my Gran, but woe betide any family member who passes within 100 miles of her door without gracing her presence.

"It'll be fine...It'll be fine" I try to convince myself through gritted teeth. Just about having a heart attack when a loud knocking on the car window starts me out of my meditation. My aunt's face greets me with a wide toothy grin and a furious wave...


10;16am. As my aunt marches me briskly along the corridors, I marvel at how, despite a complete refurbishment, the nursing home still has the palpable musky smell so renowned of its kind.

My aunt is talking at record speeds as we make our way to my Gran's room on the far side of the complex. I feel like an important politician in some over dramatized TV show, marching through narrow corridors, avoiding pensioners as they criss cross our paths, while my press secretary briefs me on the most likely questions, the party lines, subjects to avoid and various other tips for surviving my impending interrogation.

"Remember not to mention the suicide attempt" She warns.

"Okaaaaay" I reply "But then how do I explain being absent for a month?" I ponder, clearly deferring to her prefabricated version of events. "Should I tell her I was in the mental hospital because I stubbed my toe?"

"You have been really busy at work," My aunt replies, clearly not in a joking mood. "You know she doesn't understand your job anyway, she won't question it."

"Fine" I sigh, "So what do I say about Catherine?" I try, and fail, to keep the pain from my voice.

"You have your differences, she couldn't stay with you given your...condition. The divorce will take place as soon as you get on your feet"

I halt in the corridor and glare at my aunt, trying my best to keep my emotional turmoil in check, the advice of soft voiced therapists echoing in my ears.

"That's bull->-bleeped-<- and you know it, do you have any idea what she did? Do you have the faintest inkling of what she put me through? You expect me to walk in there and say it was some mutual parting? That it was because of my Dysphoria?"

If my aunt felt any sympathy for my plight, it was lost amidst her stern insistence.

"Yes I do, Your Gran loved Catherine, and she doesn't need the nitty gritties of what happened. Besides, you know what she is like, if she finds out the truth we will never hear the end of it."

"More like you will never hear the end of it" I mutter, returning once more to our brisk pace, as she continues to bombard me with the facts from her extensive censored story.

"Oh, one other thing" she said as we approached my gran's door.

"Don't walk like that infront of her...seeing you with a woman's walk will just set her off on another anti gay rant."

She grabs me and brings me in for an unexpected and uncomfortable hug, palming me a piece of folded paper as she pulls away. I glance at the carefully scrawled website URL on the note quizzically.

"It's the address for a store that does really good breastforms, I've used them since the mastectomy, you should try them out." she whispered in my ear, before wishing me luck and retreating back up the corridor, no doubt on her way to brief another impending family member.

I take a deep breath, reaching for the door as I mouth quietly to myself.

"It'll be fine..."


10:34am. Years ago, I heard somebody in a bar exclaim "Aye! God built old Scottish women to last forever, just so they can always get the last word in!". My gran was a shining testament to that sentiment, a stout old woman with an intelligent twinkle in her eye, that seemed strangely out of place given her advanced years. Despite pushing 90, you get the feeling that in ten years, she would still be able to walk up to Buckingham Palace on her 100th birthday, and demand her letter from the queen directly.

There was not a single wall or flat surface in the entire room that was not covered with photographs. As a mother of eleven children, family was her life's work, and as she sat clutching a cup of tea amongst the hundreds of smiling men, women and children that showered her with silent adoration, it was clear she had been very successful in her endeavour.

We sit making small talk, skirting around the elephant in the room with practiced ease. I manage to keep the lies in order, holding the party line despite my discomfort, until my wandering gaze settles on a painfully familiar couple staring at me happily from a photograph on a nearby tabletop, the beaming sunshine, pristine white dress and flawless tailored suit making them seem like they are in some fairy tale wedding.

"It was a perfect wedding you know" My gran says, realising where my gaze is locked. "You both looked so lovely, and the day was just beautiful, even all the great grand children were well behaved!"

I mutter something non committal in confirmation, in my mind the couple seemed to stare at me and demand explanation for why I had let them down, why their perfect marriage was in ruins.

"You should really try and patch things up with Catherine you know. I really liked her. You two made such a perfect couple, what happened there between you two? Nobody will talk to me about it." she pressed.

Gut wrenching images flash before my eyes, Catherine lies on our marriage bed, one hand on the first man's groin, her mouth dedicated to a strange woman, while a second man spreads her legs wide in preparation...I guess the fourth member of the orgy was working the camera...

The room spins and I feel like I am going to vomit as I unwantedly recall the horrific details. With a great deal of effort, I manage to clear the images from my head, just like my therapist taught me, and choke out a response.

"She...We had our differences, she couldn't be with me after the...diagnosis."

The lie sticks in my throat as my Gran pushes the subject, acting as if she has inadvertently stumbled upon it rather than intended this all along.

"Oh yes, about that...I got in touch with your cousin in Texas, you know the one? He runs a camp for people with your kind of...troubles..." I know where this is going, and I don't like it.

"He said that, even though your faith has lapsed for a while, he will take you on free of charge, as a gift for the family. Isn't that a lovely gesture?" she said, hope gleaming in her eyes.

"We've been over this Gran" I snap, With my head still reeling from staving off the mental assault, my political face began to crack under the pressure. "I'm not giving up my life to go to some crazy "pray the gay away" camp in the bible belt."

"Well there is no need to speak to me like that" She says, genuine hurt in her voice, "I'm just trying to help you Dan, just remember the offer is always there, and that you wouldn't be the first person to find God in their darkest hour. There is no shame in it"

"That's...great Gran" I mumble. "I'll...keep it in mind. Could I have another cup of tea?" I say, attempting to end the conversation and defuse the situation.

Dissatisfied, but begrudgingly accepting, she stands and ventures forth into the kitchen. As she busies herself making tea, I find myself alone in the room, glaring once more at the offending happy couple, their arrogant, ignorant smiles haunting me...


11:47am. Mentally exhausted, I duck out of the back entrance to the building, narrowly avoiding the de-briefing with my aunt, and collapse into Belle. She stirs to life as I make a hasty escape from the nursing home complex. I bite back tears as the built up emotion crashes down upon me...


12:12am. I stop in a layby to cry and scream my frustration at the world. Belle purrs her sympathies as I try to pull myself together some minutes later. I notice through bleary eyes that her fuel tank is sitting at half full. I curse to myself. My shopping spree from the previous weekend has left me broke, unable to purchase more fuel until I get my wages in next week. I do some mental calculations and come to the conclusion that I should be able to make it back to my flat at the end of the weekend, from there I can just walk to work until my wages get in. Inconvenient, but doable. For the hundredth time, I find myself wishing that all the annoying menial things in life would just leave me alone for now, just until I deal with my own crisis...


1:24pm. I finally arrive at my parents home. The large farm house seems haphazardly placed in the middle of the countryside, the fresh air grants me a feeling of respite as I enter the house.

My old man was a relatively successful boxer in a previous life. Like many aspiring sportsmen before him, a bad leg injury had prevented him from realising whatever true potential he may have once claimed. But while he kept no trophies or medals from this time, the viselike crushing grip of his gorilla esq arms was all the evidence one needed to know that he onced pulverised men for a living.

"Mah boy!" He said booming, as I was lifted up and crushed against his torso, my barely concealed budding breasts lancing with pain in protestation at the rough treatment. "Welcome home!"...


2:09pm. My father and I sit in the kitchen for a while, catching up on the last month's comings and goings over a cup of tea. As we talk, I can't help but notice with a creeping concern, that the pile of medication on the worktop has grown noticeably since my last visit.

Our relationship has always been strained. My Father is a man of few words, and even fewer still since I told him about my diagnosis. We go over financial issues, problems and opportunities at my work, my search for a new flat, the various important but tertiary aspects of my life. When we run out of things to talk about, I try to move onto the more emotional problems. He stops me with a smile and one giant hairy hand.

"Hang on Dan, You know I'm no good with the soppy stuff." he says. "Your Mum's away out at the horse's, you're better off talking to her about it."

I'm not surprised. I love him, but he is useless when it comes to this sort of thing.

He makes his excuses, citing an important football match as his justification for ending the conversation.

"Oh, well if it's something as important as football" I say, smirking at his transparent get out clause. " had best leave you to it"

"You know...even your sisters like football Dan" He retorts, once more airing his long standing dismay over the fact that his only Son despises the national sport.

"Well, I'm afraid to say that that this particular daughter will have to break the family trend." I say, grinning from ear to ear as he grimaces and walks away, shaking his head in mock disappointment and grumbling to himself about "bloody women"...


2:45pm. It's a short walk through the relentless sunshine along various dirt tracks before I reach the Horse's stables. I must look so out of place in my black shirt and pristine trainers, in a land where wellies and old body warmers were vogue. But the walk does me good, bringing back happy memories of my sisters and I scampering up trees and leaping over the narrow streams. I reminisce internally over a thousand scraped knees and elbows as I spot my Mother in a nearby paddock. Her riding hat and beige chaps bobbing up and down in an almost comedic manner, as she trots a young horse around some gleaming new jumping poles, no doubt in an attempt to get the seemingly skittish beast aclimatised to the strange new contraptions.

Upon seeing me approach the paddock, Mother practically throws herself from the horse's back, much to it's displeasure at the sudden unexpected motion, and bolts towards me, meeting me at the gate with a loving sweaty embrace and a kiss on the cheek...


4:40pm. My mother and I catch up as she continues attempting to train her newest addition to the stables. The poor creature has been neglected by it's previous owners, and as such is well behind the curve physically, and in its familiarity with the ring and it's trappings. It would be a great deal of work, and some would argue potentially impossible, to get the horse to a decent showing standard. Most owners would not take on such a hopeless cause, after all, keeping horses was expensive, why keep one that is practically "worthless". But then again, my Mother has always been one to champion a hopeless cause.

A muddy paddock in the middle of the countryside is a strange place for an emotional reunion, but at least it is private enough, save the odd quizzical look from the curious horse. Tears are shed on both fronts as I recount the events of the last month to my Mother, both the good and the bad. She speaks words of encouragement and support to me when I talk about my trip to Edinburgh, she shrugs off the encounter with my Gran as an unsightly outburst of "ignorance that will die with her", she consoles me when I talk about the fallout from the marriage, and lifts my spirits with tales of her recent equestrian escapades.

Eventually the conversation makes it's way to the health of my parents. I remark on the increasing pile of medication in the kitchen and ask how she is doing,

"I'm doing ok" she confirms as she stuffs loose hay into a haynet. "So long as I keep the actual riding to a minimum it's not too bad."

She gives me a subdued smile, glancing off in the direction of the house as I ask for an honest opinion on father's health.

"Sometimes I don't think he even believes he is ill." she laments "But I make him take his medication, and we soldier on regardless."

She lovingly brushes the knots out of the new horse's mane as it munches away contentedly at the hay. She registers my worried silence and, not taking her eyes off of the task at hand, wistfully continues.

"We each have our struggles Dan." she says, the weight of decades of managing declining health adding gravitas to her voice. "Just try and remember, your problems don't define you, it's how you deal with them that does."...



7:20pm The rest of the day passes without much incident. The home cooking does me good, I wolf it down as I realise just how poorly I have been looking after myself in terms of my diet.

Conversation continues with my parents, as they begin to play hardball and ask how I am doing really.

"I'm doing okay" I say after a moments pause. My father accepts this at face value, returning to his heaped plate with an affirmative grunt, my mother is a much more discerning creature.

"Oh really?" She jeers "You have just emerged from the wreckage of a 10 year relationship, had a brush with death, a stay in a mental hospital, staved off another addiction and on top of all of that that, you're changing your gender, and most of your life." She pokes me in the ribs with her fork, extracting a yelp from me at the unexpected utensil based assault.

"Don't lie to me." She grinned, giving me a wicked wink, "I know you better than that. I know you're not ok...but don't worry, one day you will be"

We return to the meal, my father recounting the results of the most thrilling football match, while I execute my well practiced, groan filled, anti-sports rant. My mother chuckles quietly at our familiar heated debate, a verbal joust we have enacted countless times over the years, while she distributes and consumes a fistfull of pills for her and father...


9:46pm. I retire for the night to the guest room, the wall of floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the sliding doors of the walk in wardrobe reminding me of my current shadowy state. Checking myself closely I confirm that I look, and feel, like ->-bleeped-<-.

I strip quickly, toss myself under the covers and flick off the lights. The darkness comforts me as I drift off to an exhausted sleep while contemplating tomorrows trials. I will be seeing my sisters and their respective families...I do not relish the thought.

10:36am. My eldest sister Anna stands with her arms crossed above her heavily pregnant belly, a glum distant expression on her face, as we stand on the outskirts of the kid's play park. Our conversation is stunted. Whatever question I ask, she responds with curt one word answers, generating an volatile air of passive aggressive hostility, that could probably only be increased if she was also brandishing a firearm.

I try to keep my nerves in check as I watch my nieces and nephews play in the sunshine. Anna and I have always had a fairly cold relationship, it's not that we dislike each other, or have had any huge falling outs or arguments in the past. We are just far too different.

My ideal day consists of a lively shopping trip in the city, coffeehouses, meals at nice restaurants, filled with heated back and forth debate on anything that comes to mind, and of course some cocktails in a nice quiet bar to round of the evening.

Anna's ideal day on the other hand, consists of dumping her children with a relative while she sits in her home all day watching soap operas and daytime television, ordering chinese food then squeezing into a tube top 3 sizes too small and casting herself into a nightclub with her like minded friends, to dance the night away to the ear splitting sound of whatever was currently popular with the 13-18 year olds.

She thinks I am too "posh and uptight" I think she is "Wasting her life", neither of us are inherently right or wrong with our accusations. But to each their own I guess.

This clash of personalities normally doesn't cause too much problems, we simply steer away from our more conflicting opinions and keep our conversation light. But since coming out with my gender dysphoria, and indicating that I had every intention of transitioning, Anna's disagreements with me have turned into full blown dislike.

I've tried on numerous occasions to figure out her stance on the matter, and to discover why she despises me so much for it. The most I have ever manage to glean so far, was on one late night not long after coming out, when she drunkenly and angrily confronted me with the phrase.

"So what am I supposed to do then? I have pictures of you in my home. I have friends who will know I have a ->-bleeped-<-ing ->-bleeped-<- for a brother, and kids who will need to say the same about their uncle to their friends. What do we do?"

As hurtful as her comments were, I tried not to let them sink in, I presume that her reaction is one born of ignorance, or fear that I may become some ghastly caricature that haunts the family forever, causing incessant drama and dragging the family down with me.

I find myself hoping that she will change her mind when she sees the final results of my transition, but I doubt it...


10:49am. Just as my one sided conversation with Anna was running out of steam, I'm knocked on my ass when an unexpected weight suddenly applies itself to my back, the slender arms of my second sister wrapping round my neck as she attempts to leap on my back like we used to as kids.

"Stealth Piggyback!" she shouts in my ear as I lose my balance and tumble backwards. Her affectious outburst did not take into consideration that, unlike when we were younger, I've been on Hormone replacement Therapy for over 4 months now...and as a result wield somewhat less muscle mass and upper body strength than I used to.

She squeals as we collapse to the ground.

"Oh dear god Mary" I moan through gritted teeth, the wind knocked out of me, "We're not bloody teenagers any more, we're too old for that stuff"

She laughs and denies the sentiment "Hey! We're in a kids play park" she says "It's not my fault you forgot how to be a kid" She laughs as we stare up at the gathered giggling faces of the combined offspring...


11:03am. Mary and i are talking openly while she gently rocks her youngest in a baby swing. Anna stands far on the other side of the park, seemingly keeping an eye on some of the children, but really just distancing herself from our conversation.

"I can't believe some of those youtube videos" she says, glee in her eyes "I never thought the transitions could be so...amazing. I can't wait to see how you look in a couple years"

"Well, try to bear in mind that those are the lucky ones" I say, attempting to contain her excitable nature, "I mean...if the HRT doesn't do much for you, you're not going to put up a transition video online are you? I need to manage my expectations."

"But you could be beautiful." she continues, unrelenting in her positivity, "And then I can finally have a sister I can go shopping with!"

A self confessed shopaholic and manager at a popular tanning salon in town, Mary and I always gotten on like a house on fire, much to Anna's displeasure. Talking to her is good, despite my increasingly ragged nerves and barely contained tremors. She asks lots of questions about the transition, the effects of HRT, and we even talk about the surgeries I am planning in the future.

"Thailand?" she queries as we try and monitor the whereabouts of her brood in the vast park, "That sounds...well that sounds terrifying."

"Strangely I'm okay with it." I reply "I mean, if I'm going to get it done, I'm going to the best surgeons in the world, and you don't get much better than them."

"Not fair!" she geers loudly "I want a designer vagina!"

I blush furiously, my eyes darting wide and gesture for her to "keep it down" as a number of surrounding mothers and parental figures turn to face us, casting looks of disgust our way for exposing their children to such crude talk. Mary bursts into laughter at their reactions and whispers in my ear.

"They're just jealous"...


12:09pm. Mary counts down to one, and the children drop their sticks simultaneously over the bridge's handrail, into the lazy river below. They scream with glee as they charge to the other side of the bridge in a mess of flailing limbs, looking into the river on the other side to see who's stick came first in the "race".

One of my nephews screams and jumps up and down looking around frantically for confirmation of his victory from the adults.

"I did it! I won!" he cries, pausing for a moment as he realises an absence in the group. "Where is Uncle Dan? He never saw me win".

I wretch heavily into the bushes, hidden in the shade of a small gathering of trees round the corner from the bridge, out of sight. My hands and legs shake violently as I try to pull myself to my feet, only to slump back down onto the loose soil.

I knew it was going to be a bad day.

Panic and anxiety race through my mind unbridled as my head spins and my body tries to force out a meal that isn't there any more. Vicious thoughts leap to the forefront of my mind as tears flow.

"What's the point in anything","I'll never have kids.","I'm just a freak.","Nobody will ever want me now","I will die alone.","I will never feel love again","No matter what I do, I'll never be a real woman","I ruined it all, threw away a beautiful life...and threw away the woman of my dreams...for this."

"I'm a monster."

I find myself craving a drink, begging for the painless oblivion of alcohol to take away the hurt.

I hear the collective voices of the group calling out for me in various degrees of concern or mirth, depending on the age of the caller.

I just manage to pull myself together when one of my younger nieces finds me. She does not register the state I am in. She thinks it's hide and seek. I don't dispute her assumption.

Mary takes one look at me when I emerge from the trees and her face drops.

"We're getting out of here" she says quietly as I approach, linking arms and supporting me in my unsteady, trembling stumble, as we gather the children and leave the park.


12:38pm. Having dropped off the collective children at the farmhouse, and experienced a curt one word goodbye from Anna, I find myself sitting in a bustling coffee house clutching a cooling cup of tea. I stare at the half eaten sandwich and wonder how long it will stay down.

"I hate seeing you like this" Mary says, as she scrutinises my every tremble and wince.

"I'm just...having a bad day" I reply "I can get set off pretty easily on days like this since...well you know"

She nods in sympathy.

"How long until you stop having them?" she asks.

"Maybe a few months, years, or maybe...never, they don't know." I respond looking at her with an expression of pure exhaustion with life. "I've been through too much now, too many addictions, too much shock, too much...heart break. I-I'm afraid I might be a bit insane for the rest of my life now."

Mary leans across the table and glances around conspicuously, before speaking in a hushed voice.

"Guess what" she says "We're all a bit insane" before smiling and leaning back as I manage a weak grin."So what set you off then?" she questions, causing fresh tears to bubble up in my eyes as I recall the trigger.

The children playing in the sun without a care in the world, the newborn swaddled up in blankets feeding from a bottle...

"I-I...can't have children Mary" I stutter.

"Wait...what?" she says, leaning forward, eyes going wide. "But I thought you went to the fertility clinic? I thought you donated samples ages ago?"

"I lied." I respond, too tired to even wipe the tears away any more. "They did some tests when the samples kept coming back poor. Apparently I've been infertile all along."

"Oh Dan" she says, changing seat to sit beside me and giving me a tight hug. "Why didn't you say anything?

"It's just another thing on the huge pile of ->-bleeped-<- I can't deal with right now" I reply "And with Anna pregnant, and your own problems to deal with...I just...didn't want to cause more worry."

I muster up the energy to wipe my tears away, trying to pull myself together again.

"Speaking of" I say "How are things with you and the kids?"

Mary sits back as she takes stock with a deep inhale of breath.

"Well, Johna has started his testosterone injections...it should help with his physical development, but they can't do much about the mental stuff. They say that they don't want to operate on the tumor because it could permanently damage the other parts of the brain."

She picks off and nibbles on a piece of her muffin before continuing.

"I'm doing okay for now, the stitches have all come out and the scans are looking pretty positive apparently...The doctors are worried that the cancer may have spread to my other ovary, so the're wanting to keep me under close observation, and they are preparing me for the likelihood that I may have to get that one out as well...so yeah. "

"Jesus" I respond, my problems suddenly seeming small in comparison.

"How do you do it?" I ask in wonder at her candid recounting, "How do you keep it together with all the ->-bleeped-<- piled ontop of you?"

She gives me a small smile as she takes a sip of coffee.

"I have already had all the kids I want, between them and Frank, It's hard to feel sorry for myself when I have all that going for me." She blinks as she sees my pained reaction. "I'm so sorry Dan. I know it feels like you've lost everything right now, and you can't get it back. But just keep on trying, you can't give up now, not after everything you have already been through."

I sink back further into my seat, staring through the remaining half of my sandwich as I nod and gaze into nothingness.

"You know...Sometimes I wonder" I muse to myself aloud "I think our family might just be some kind of genetic failure."

Mary peers at me closely, unsure of where I am going with impending rambling, but she keeps quiet, having known me well enough to recognise when I am getting to a point.

"You have to admit it's odd. Our family is just one big non-stop parade of cancer, tumours, infertility, hormonal imbalances and rare genetic conditions...it's like we personally pissed off nature, and she is throwing everything it can at us, just trying to wipe us out. At this stage I wouldn't be surprised if a meteorite hit one of the family reunions."

Mary let out a single laugh at the absurd image as I continue.

"I mean...it does happen in nature, evolution thrives off of mutation and divergence. Maybe we are just one of the evolutionary branches that just...didn't work you know? Maybe we are genetically inferior to others and will just...die off"

Mary ponders my musing for a moment, before shrugging and picking up her coffee. She raises it in front of my face, breaking me from my reverence.

"Well if that's the case then, brother slash future sister" she grins "Here's to the best, evolutionary dead end in Scotland" she says, downing the remnants of her coffee in one foul swoop, before sputtering and gagging half of it back into the cup.

"Sorry...almost choked there...Hey! Maybe there is something to this whole "nature trying to kill us" thing!" she laughs.

I can't help but smile...


2:21pm. I say my heartfelt goodbyes to Mary and hop in Belle. The thought of driving back to the flat fills me with dread. My mood is still balanced on a knife edge, and a long drive with nothing but my own treacherous thoughts does not fill me with joy. But there is nothing else I can do. I need to get back tonight so I can go to work on Monday, there are deadlines to meet, and only so much more tardiness and time off my employers will give me before I am laid off. in addition, the thought of my soft mattress and female attire cries out to me. I start up Belle, put on some of my favourite anime tunes, and commit myself to getting home as quickly as possible...

3:25. My anime music runs out. I turn on the radio and am confronted by Catherines favourite song...it was the song that accompanied our first dance at the wedding. My mind reels and stomach lurches as the unwanted images and memories come flooding back...

3:42pm. The sandwich stayed down for a surprising length of time, given my current state, but as I empty the partly digested mulch onto the layby, I wonder if I will be able to eat anything today. Feeling like absolute hell, and wanting nothing more than to give up with life, I return to Belle.

I notice my mobile phone is flashing, through bleary eyes I see a text from my best friend Mark. He asks how the weekend went, and if I want to stop by his place for a while on the way back to the flat.

Things have been weird between Mark and I recently, and It's a short detour on my way home, but I want nothing more right now than to see a friendly face. I tell him I shall stop in shortly, and to get the kettle ready.


4:47. I arrive at Mark's flat. He is clean shaven, wearing a smart shirt and trousers. He opens the door and looks me up and down, taking in my weary form.

"Rough weekend Danniella?" he says, sadness and concern in his voice. It's the first time anybody has called me by my female name all week.

I burst into tears and throw myself into his waiting arms...


6:43pm. Over the next few hours, I spill the long story of the encounter with my gran and my time back home. Mark talks to me with the relaxed ease of a long time friend. He always uses my female name, and addresses me as such, he is one of the only people in my life who always does.

He makes me a light meal and we collapse onto the sofa full and satisfied.

With my story told, and my emotions drained, we move onto lighter topics of conversation.

"So...why get rid of the beard?" I find myself asking, I've known him for over 8 years, and I have never known him to get rid of it..

"I dunno...just felt like it I guess" he replies, before sheepishly changing the subject to a new RPG game we were planning. As we talk, I try to figure out the reasons for this strange action. Then I remember. Last week I was talking to him about beards, and specifically how I didn't find them attractive on men.

As we casually chat on the sofa, I find myself overcome with the built up physical and mental exertions of the past few days. WIthout even meaning to, I fall asleep, mid conversation. Mark's soothing voice causing me to drift into a peaceful slumber.


8:03am. I slowly come to my senses, disoriented by my surroundings until I piece together the last few hours before I fell asleep. I'm curled up on the sofa, a soft blanket has been placed over me, a pillow under my head, and my glasses removed and placed carefully just out of reach on the nearby coffee table.

Mark sits across from me in a comfortable lounger that he affectionately refers to as "The Captains Chair". I catch him putting down the latest issue of "SAGA" (A comic I cannot recommend highly enough) and looking at me with a subdued smile.

"Hey there" he says, "You were pretty out of it for a bit there. Feel any better after a sleep?"

"Um...I guess," I reply, trying to clear the cobwebs from my mind and wake up properly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...I mean It's not exactly fair of me to...well...you know."

"Don't worry about it" he says soothingly "Crashing on the sofa isn't a big ask, You know I'll do anything for you."

The way he says that causes alarm bells to begin ringing in my head.

"Mark...be careful" I warn him.

"Oh...yeah...Sorry" He says, sheepish and crestfallen, before inquiring if I would like a cup of tea. Since my last one is lying cold on the coffee table I agree.

As I wake myself up and wait for him to return to the living room, I scold myself for my stupidity.

A few weeks ago, Mark confessed his long running unrequited affections for me. I was taken aback by this. Having known him for 8 years, I didn't even have the faintest idea that he was even bisexual, never mind that he had strong feelings for me, and for so long.

He told me how much stronger his feelings had become of late, that watching and helping me go through my transition made him love me all the more. He spoke volumes about my strength, character and determination, he told me I was an good looking man, and would make a beautiful woman, but that no matter what happened, he would find me stunning.

I'm not too proud to tell you that I freaked out.

I've never had anybody say anything like that to me before, and certainly not a guy. But while I still could not see myself in a relationship with a guy, I couldn't deny that my sexual orientation had begun to broaden of late, after some time on female hormones.

When I confessed this, Mark saw this as his opportunity, and pushed for a relationship. But I had to let him down gently. I told him that in all honesty, even if I did have a firm grasp of what I want in terms of a partner for the future, I have just gotten out of a 10 year relationship, and there was still far too much pain and confusion about the whole things for me to even consider a new relationship yet. Not to mention that our friendship was too precious for me to risk on such an uncertain thing.

We agreed to be friends, I didn't want to lose my best friend and my wife in one year.

But as he returned from the kitchen with a pair of steaming mugs, and I try to figure out if I find him attractive or not, I wonder if things will ever be the same again.


9:12pm. Mark walks me out to Belle, it was far too late, and I badly needed to get back to the flat. We hug goodbye and as we part he gives me a big smile.

"You're hugging like a girl now" He says, making me feel strangely self conscious.

"Well, I guess it's all part of the change" I respond, trying to hide my blushing as I open the car door.

"Danniella" He calls after me as I am just about to enter the car. "You're fast becoming my perfect woman you know?" His expression is impossible to read, a conflicted mess of dimly lit emotions.

I pause, trying to think on something, anything appropriate to say.

"Just...Grow your beard again Mark" I say, mustering a tired smile. "You don't look like yourself without it"

He blinks in silence for a second, then laughs, waving as I drive away.

I let out a long sigh as the last leg of my journey is upon me.


10:03pm. I'm almost asleep at the wheel as I navigate the pitch black country roads. I don't even notice the fuel light blinking until Belle begins to sputter and shudder beneath be. I glance down at the fuel indicator, it is below the red, the electronic dashboard displaying "Miles till empty: 0"

I snap awake and let out a string of curses at my stupidity. I had been so upset and messed up that I had completely forgot about my extremely limited fuel supply when I decided to detour to Mark's flat. The resulting extra distance had taken its toll on the fuel reserves, and as Belle grumpled and choked beneath me I wonder what else could possibly go wrong.


10:07pm. I was still a good 2 miles from home when Belle gave up. Her tank completely dry. I bash my head against the steering wheel and take out my phone. Before bursting into fits of mad laughter as I realise that I had forgot to put it on charge last night, with the speed at which I collapsed into bed.

So there I was, alone, on a country road, 2 miles from the nearest town...then, as if on cue, it started to rain.


10:14pm. Soaking wet, I flomp back into the driver's seat. Pushing Belle home would have been a mammoth task even before I started HRT, now I couldn't even get her to move. I curse all the various gods I know, including a string of ones from various video games and RPGs.

I decide to try starting her again, hoping that maybe I could somehow will into existence just enough fuel to get me home. I turn the key repeatedly as she coughs and squeals about her lack of sustenance.

"Please Belle" I plead "It's just you and me darlin...I know we've been through alot this weekend...but we can do it...Just this last little bit then we are home."

Much to my genuine surprise, and with a great degree of protestation and grumbling, Belle shudders to life once more. I yell in unbridled joy as the "Miles till Empty" indicator flickers to "1".


10:21pm. I have no idea how Bell and I did it, but we made it. I park her outside the flat and give the steering wheel a big kiss, before making my way inside.

I collapse on my comfy bed in the dark and stare at the ceiling. going over the events of the last couple days in my head, and wondering how my life had ever managed to get so complicated.

Flicking on a light switch, I see myself in the mirror again. A tired wreck of a man standing completely broken, at the end of his physical and mental strength.

I hate everything about it. One weekend at home, trapped in my male self had dragged me down so far, undone weeks of positivity and progress.

I violently tear off the cursed clothing, tossing it on the ground in a hate filled fury, like the garments themselves were on fire.

I swear to myself in the mirror, to never go through that again...


11:39pm. I finish digging the shallow pit and toss the shovel in Belle's boot. I place a thick ring of large stones around the pit, just like my mother taught me all those years ago. The persistent drizzle through the thick canopy of trees has made the soil damp, but I take the appropriate precautions anyway, clearing away any stray leaves or twigs that surround the fire pit.

From the passengers seat, I sling a pair of bulging bin liners over my shoulder, before spilling their contents into the pit.

An entire wardrobe of male clothing lay soiled in the pit. I carefully place the cherry on top...

I grab the can of lighter fluid and force a thin stream of liquid onto them.

Standing back, I use a lighter to ignite a torn strip of clothing wrapped around the end of a stick, forming a rudimentary torch.

As I throw the torch onto the pile of clothes, the lighter fluid does it's job, causing the clothing to combust and burn rapidly.

Smiling, I sit for a while, checking that the fire will burn down successfully without spreading, before I turn to leave.

From the top of the fire a familiar pair of eyes watch me go, as the flames engulf them, their wedding attire blackens and curls around their faces, eventually obscuring their arrogant smiles.

My Gran would probably notice the picture was gone eventually, and would easily be able to figure out exactly who had liberated it from her room, but right now I didn't care.

As I startup Belle, I double check that the measly £5 worth of fuel I scrapped together will get me back to the flat okay.

I have a great intake of breath as I pull out of the dark camping ground.

"Well Belle." I say to the car as she purrs along the dark roads towards the flat. "Looks like we're going full time this week."


Le fin.

Honestly that was the most exhausting weekend I have had in forever, and writing it up wasn't much easier

For those who finished it, I hope you enjoyed it, and I shall see you next time I have an interesting/crazy event to type up.

Love you all Xx

Well written as always. You should listen to your mother she sounds like a very smart woman, not only could she see through you when you said you where fine. She also taught you how to dispose of evidence safely and correctly.

Sorry to hear the weekend had such highs and lows we can pick our friends but we unfortunately we can not pick our family.

Quote from: immortal gypsy on May 06, 2014, 08:42:48 AM
Well written as always. You should listen to your mother she sounds like a very smart woman, not only could she see through you when you said you where fine. She also taught you how to dispose of evidence safely and correctly.

Haha indeed, she is one for knowing just what to say at the right time, and she has imparted a rather...unique set of skills on me

Quote from: immortal gypsy on May 06, 2014, 08:42:48 AM
Sorry to hear the weekend had such highs and lows we can pick our friends but we unfortunately we can not pick our family.

It's all part of the ride, I rested up, began fulltime and am now in a much happier place than I was on that weekend. Life is hard. But that's what makes the good times all the better.

[Temporarily Removed by User]

Very well written.

Danni,

Some day you'll look back and laugh, I'm sure. Take comfort that your grandmother is no better nor worse than she should be, your parents and sister Mary are gems and your other sister is the contrast that lets you appreciate the rest of your family.

You have people who love you and the strength to do what's needful even if you have to wail and cry to get through it.

I hope I do as well.

Danniella, I laughed and cried as I read your story. I wish the best for you and I am sending you good thoughts.

While some (your parents, aunt and sister Mary) appeared supportive in your post.  Some may just need some more time to come to terms that you are still you now just happier. If not you still have that shovel in the boot of Belle right? 

Yes it's a little blunt lacking allot of tact and some may call it a tiny bit evil. But I like to call it good quality evil and sometimes it is the only way those closets to us know we're serious.  Congratulations on starting full time and good luck with the rest of your journey where ever it may take you

Quote from: kate on May 06, 2014, 10:26:07 AM
wow that was one tough weekend!!

Thank you for posting this. I find it really helpful to read about other people's transitions. As odd as it may sound, I sometimes forget that we are all if not most of us are going through some tough and hard times. Sometimes after reading countless passing related posts and positive experiences i wonder how other people are coping so well. I have those 'what the heck am i doing? I'm a freak' phases as well, and certainly not being able to have children and seeing my close friends with their children or talk about starting a family, puts me out in a spin as well. Hard not to feel sad.

I'm sorry it's hard atm. Hope you feel better soon babe. x

We all have our good and bad days, even the people who pass 100% of the time still have bad days, it's just part of the experience I'm afraid.

But that's why we need to enjoy the little things in life, and ensure that when we have good days, we make them really good

I'll be okay in the end, strangely enough I have found that dealing with my Dysphoria and my transition to be nowhere near as psychologically and emotionally painful as my marriage breaking down in the way it has...

One make sense to me, the other doesn't

Quote from: Alyssa L. on May 06, 2014, 11:00:09 AM
Hey Daniella,

I absolutely loved reading this. I was hanging on every word. You have a real talent for writing... like, seriously! I kept having to remember that this is happening to a real person and that it wasn't a fictional stpry. Very well done!

Thanks ^^; Sometimes I do take a step back from things and realise just how crazy life has become, then I sit and try to cast actors for my friends and family in my own internal TV show.

It would be like a cross between Ally McBeal and Sex in the City, but with more Trangendered problems xD

Makes life seem less difficult if you can imagine a TV audience booing and cheering along side you

Quote from: Alyssa L. on May 06, 2014, 11:00:09 AM
I am glad things are better for you now that you have gone full time. Your mom and sister Mary sound amazing and you are so luck to have such supportive people in your life. I kept hoping that there would be a twist in the story about your Gran... maybe one day. Your friend Mark sounds like a great guy and I think it was very wise of you to push him back regarding the relationship until you (and him) can figure out who you are. Transition seems like such a great opportunity to discover who you are and what you want. Having other people tie you down can delay, repress, or downright prevent you from figuring that out.

Indeed. I think that the hardest, but most important lesson I have learned with this transition so far, is definitely when to let people in and when to keep them at bay.

I love talking to people, I love listening to their troubles and worries, and also discussing my own, getting close to people and properly sharing the human experience is something I love. As a result I normally wear my heart on my sleeve.

But I've learned the hard way that sometimes you need to shut people out a bit, to keep them at bay while you are not sure or still forming your opinion on something, because the confusion and "false hope" people can get while you figure things out can really mess with them, and damage relationships.

Quote from: Alyssa L. on May 06, 2014, 11:00:09 AM
From what I have read about you, I think you are an amazing person. You have such a good sense of humor, wit, and charm. I would count myself lucky to be your friend IRL. Hang in there!

Lots of Love,
Alyssa

Awww thanks ^^; <3

Quote from: Dianne on May 06, 2014, 12:11:23 PM
Very well written.

Thanks <3

Quote from: Dee Marshall on May 06, 2014, 03:58:06 PM
Danni,

Some day you'll look back and laugh, I'm sure. Take comfort that your grandmother is no better nor worse than she should be, your parents and sister Mary are gems and your other sister is the contrast that lets you appreciate the rest of your family.

You have people who love you and the strength to do what's needful even if you have to wail and cry to get through it.

I hope I do as well.

Thanks

I still reckon I have been pretty lucky with my family so far, barring one or two bad reactions, It's been a mostly supportive and positive response, hopefully the people with the negative views will come around a bit when they begin to see me full time.

I have a big family get together in June...around 100 family members from around the world...it will be an interesting experience.

Quote from: Cynthia Michelle on May 06, 2014, 07:47:30 PM
Danniella, I laughed and cried as I read your story. I wish the best for you and I am sending you good thoughts.

Awww, thank you, I love nothing more than eliciting an emotional response from people with my writing

Quote from: immortal gypsy on May 07, 2014, 03:04:14 AM
While some (your parents, aunt and sister Mary) appeared supportive in your post.  Some may just need some more time to come to terms that you are still you now just happier. If not you still have that shovel in the boot of Belle right? 

Yes it's a little blunt lacking allot of tact and some may call it a tiny bit evil. But I like to call it good quality evil and sometimes it is the only way those closets to us know we're serious.  Congratulations on starting full time and good luck with the rest of your journey where ever it may take you

Swinging a shovel wildly while belting out verses from "I Am What I Am" would certainly get people's attention...but I've had one stay in a mental hospital already, I'd rather avoid any further time in such an establishment

Yipes.... Just... that was a great read...  Honestly cried the whole way through it.  In a similar place myself right now, your story really hit home hard