Who can I talk to?

In which I discuss the reason my Mum felt the need to beg my forgiveness!


Since telling my Mum I'm trans, she has made one thing perfectly clear. The only person she wanted to talk to was my Aunt (her sister).
There are several problems with this as far as I am concerned.

1. I've not told my Dad yet and until he knows, I'm not telling anyone else
2. It's not her place to tell my Aunt, it's mine
3. I don't know if I can trust my Aunt to keep it quiet (even though Mum swears I can)
4. I don't know how my Aunt will react
5. I don't know my Aunts level of experience with issues like this.

Now I have explained to my Mum previously the issues I have with her 'thinking it over' in her head. She has no information. Her ideas of trans people come from media stereotypes and a "guy who wears mini-skirts and hairy-legs in tights". She also had an initial gut feeling that it was wrong. She admitted once that she thought it was a mental illness that required "fixing". I told her it didn't matter how many times she went over it in her head, if all her information was negative then all her conclusions would be negative. She could go over it until the end of time but it will always go the same way.

She decided talking to my aunt would be the best solution to this. However after a series of arguments in which I explained how my aunt likely had no more experience in the area than she did it would not necessarily do me any favours. I, after all, have no desire to have mum come back with her negative ideas compounded by the empathy she found from my aunt. This left her with no options. Which led to her begging my forgiveness while we were walking the dog.

I think I've done something very bad. I'm so sorry! I did something you expressly told me not to do. I didn't know what else to do and I had to!

These were Mums introduction. I don't know what brought this apology on, other than she felt guilty. We hadn't been talking about the issue as far as I can recall, but apparently it got to her and she had to confess. I asked her what exactly she had done.

I know you told me not to, but I ended up talking to (friend) about you!

She paused for a moment, possibly expecting me to react and yell. I said nothing and continued listening. I should point out at this stage that the friend in question I do not know very well. I've met her a few times but I know nothing about her except she has a daughter who is friends with one of my sisters. Either way, we have no relationship that could possibly be ruined by her knowing and thus I wasn't hugely bothered by it. However, what came next I was amazed by.

See she lived in London and you see all sorts of people in London and I thought if anyone would understand it would be her! So I told her about you and she said ... "That's fantastic! I'm so pleased he's found out who he wants to be and is comfortable with it! When we were in London you would see all sorts of people every day so you learn about how different everybody is!" ... I asked if (her daughter) knew about (trans people) and how she had explained it because I was worried about how to tell the girls! ... "One day we were on the tube and these two ladies who were obviously guys got on (Holly's note: Although I'm not 100% pleased with how she phrased it, and nobody else should phrase things that way when talking about trans people, I'll let it slide for the purposes of the story!) and (my daughter) said something about them and I just said 'they used to be men. sometimes people are just born in the wrong shell' and she accepted it and moved on.

Every so often, Mum would look at me, and appeared to be almost anticipating an explosion of unbridled rage from me. She would pause every so often and look to see how I was taking it. By the end of her story/admission she had explained that this friend had offered to take her and the girls on a trip to London a few times when she felt ready to tell my sisters in order to get them used to diversity (we are a fairly non-diverse area unless you hit the nearest city). She said that she would always be there for her even if Mum's other friends decided they wanted nothing to do with her and that she and her daughter would be happy to be there for moral support when Mum told the girls.

Mum continued every so often to throw in the words "I'm really sorry!" and the alike. She was terrified that I would be angry that she had broken my trust.

I explained to her that she had done the most sensible thing she could have done. She decided to ask help from someone who could provide a positive, tolerant and informed view on the subject, even though they didn't necessarily know about it first hand. She picked a friend who would be able to tell her that it's not something to be worried about or that it will be the worst thing ever. She is now able to go to my aunt and talk to her and in her own words "bring her on to MY side" - in other words, if my aunt isn't as capable of accepting the situation as Mum thought, she can now persuade her it's a good thing.

Ultimately, while I did tell her it wasn't her place to tell anyone, I think she did a great job of handling the situation and has now found herself in a position where her foundations for acceptance are based on positive thoughts. No longer is Holly the unfortunate evil side-effect of a mental disorder. Now Holly has a chance to be the wonderful daughter! Next step - Dad...that'll be fun...

Step 2: Fingers off the PANIC button

In which the part of Mums brain I approve of wins over for a while.

There is something about walking a dog that lends itself to meaningful (or sometimes pointless philosophical) conversation. Today, after discussing the fate of a family we are friends with, the conversation turned, as it often does, to how I am feeling.

As it happens, apart from being ill, today I felt good and I said as much. So instead I asked about the date of a show we would be attending soon. I knew it was in October, and I had high hopes of not having to go out in man-mode. Ordinarily it wouldn't matter too much (although it would be disappointing) but this one is special. Allow me to explain.

In 2005, I went to my first music festival. I saw a band there who I was well aware of at the time but didn't fully appreciate. I came home and immediately told my brother and they have been our favourite group ever since. The next time we saw them my brother had managed to get us 'Meet-and-greet' passes. We saw a sound check set, met the band, got some things signed and got a photo taken. Since I saw them first, we have seen them play around 15 times. This is their final UK tour and we planned to take those photos to get signed. Becoming Holly fully is a huge step in my life and I can't think of anything I would like more than to have them sign the old picture of me but sign it to Holly. I'm not sure why it just feels right. Like the new chapter linking to the old. I'm not good with emotions...maybe one day I'll be able to explain it better!

Anyway as it turns out the gig is three weeks away. I was thinking it was towards the end so I could give Mum some time to prepare. I didn't say anything but apparently I looked pretty miserable when she told me. After a little while, Mum asked what the matter was. She gave me her usual "what did I (not) do?". I told her.

"When we go to the gig, I'm not going like this!" I gestured to my current 'male' attire.

What happened next was suprising. Mainly because it so clearly demonstrated firstly how Mums brain works, but secondly how capable she is of reason (something she seems to forget often!).

"I'm not ready!" she declared. This made me sad for obvious reasons. I fully expected her to say it and ideally I would have given her longer. I was just about to explain to her that it was important to me when she said "How will I tell the girls!?". This was when I realised the problem fully and was able to point it out. I never expected her to tell my sisters this early. I don't fully expect HER to come to terms with it completely by then. I told her this and she said "But I have to talk to my sister about it! She needs time to get to grips with it so she can tell the others" (my uncle and cousins". This demonstrated to me a problem. If anyone is telling ANYONE about this it will be me. I don't WANT my aunt telling my cousins or anyone else for that matter. When I want people to know, they will hear it from me. She suggested that I clearly wanted to be able to go to my aunts at Christmas as Holly. I have no illusions of my life being that easy. I would LOVE to be able to dress up nice and attend but it's not going to be that simple. I'll be suprised if Mum is comfortable with it by then, let alone comfortable enough to allow that.

Then she said something I wasn't expecting. She brought up how when she was a nurse, one of the Gynecologists "decided to be a woman". I explained how 'decided' wasn't the ideal word and then questioned why she kept bringing up how people have reacted to things like this. She explained to me that everyone she knows from her generation seems to have reacted in a gossipy way to things like this. "I'm worried that I just think well I want you to be happy but everyone else thinks something else!". Now Mum did not appreciate what she had just said here. "I want you to be happy". In the middle of one sentence she had expressed concern that her thoughts on the subject didn't match those she thought other people might have. In other words, she though against the perceived 'norm' in my favour. I gave her a huge hug immediately although she had no idea why.

After I had explained what I expected and how little she actually needed to do things calmed down. I offered, if it would make it easier, to go somewhere with Holly before the gig so she wasn't freaking out so much on the day. She is considering this.

At this point she did react how I expected. "I might have to vet your clothes so I know I can be seen with you!". Despite how badly this is worded, this is Mum talk for 'Please don't dress slutty!". Unfortunately her only experience with this type of thing is media stereotypes so her brain has nowhere to go even though she knows that's not who I am. For her sake I will show her my wardrobe (after all, I intend to be wearing it a lot more often soon!). I will be making it very clear that under no circumstances will I be getting rid of ANYTHING she doesn't approve of. I don't feel I should have to do this, but I really want to get rid of this idea that trans people MUST be doing it for some sort of sexual kick or that they all dress like slags!

The rest of the walk turned to jokes. I don't remember any of them except they were light hearted and vaguely related to my situation. But they came from a good place. It wasn't the type of nervous reaction I have had in the past from her. The jokes weren't being made for a lack of anything else to say or the fear of an awkward silence. They seemed genuine. Theoretically, Mum has made a big step towards accepting me for me and I'm really happy about that!

The first step is acceptance...

In which I describe the way I broke my mothers brain and how she chose to deal with it.


Yesterday was interesting. Until around 3:30 I was pure Holly and I felt amazing. Then my sisters came home from school and I had to change. This apparently left a visible level of disappointment on my face which my mother picked up on while we walked the dog.

"Are you OK?" she asked, as she often does when she feels she knows what the problem is but doesn't really want to talk about it. I shrugged and vaguely answered. Obviously not being OK.

At this point I should say that not being dressed was not the only reason I wasn't feeling great. Primarily it was the fact that since telling my mum I am trans, she has not mentioned it once. Obviously I don't WANT her to turn around and say 'not in MY bloody house' or something, but for her not to mention it suggests to me that actually it doesn't have the sense of urgency that it should do. As it turns out, she did not say anything to avoid an argument but I have since managed to prove this isn't a wise move. Anyway...

"What have I done?" she asked. Her go-to phrase when someone is upset. "Nothing". I replied. "Alright, what HAVEN'T I done?" she said. "Nothing" I responded again. "But that's exactly the point". I explained to her my concerns that I had no reason to believe that she was taking this seriously.

After a long LONG discussion/argument I managed to get her to admit that she thought the following:

• I had told her this to 'rebel' against something
• I didn't really mean it
• I was going to destroy the family
• Holly won't be a good person
• I will look SILLY and therefore I shouldn't do it
• The girls will be bullied
• She could possibly learn to TOLERATE it in time

I tried to counter these points and was left with her usual response. If you ever get into a debate with my mother you can expect the following discourse to take place:

MUM: Makes a point you disagree with

YOU: Counters that point with evidence

MUM: "OH FINE WHATEVER" Conversation over.

This was very much the case. I tried to explain to her that basically what she was saying to me was that because she didn't understand it, I was doing it to provoke. That I should suppress a fundamental aspect of myself because she didn't like it. 

Before I go on I want to address the final point in the list in more detail. Mum would be able to 'tolerate' it in time. She seemed to think this was an acceptable solution to the problem. I asked her in more detail who on earth would be willing to sit there knowing full well that they are merely being tolerated. She found this difficult to take in and proceeded to ignore the rest of the conversation so we moved on to a different part of it. This was about the most hurtful remark I think I've ever heard from a person.

She also told me to stop getting angry.

Angry. Don't get angry with me. Stop frowning. I don't want to talk about it because you'll get cross.

I explained to her that I got angry because it mattered to me and from my perspective she wasn't taking it seriously. In the end I had to go with the only argument I could think of to get her to understand. "If I tried to tell you that you had to stop being Christian because I didn't understand it, and that if you refused I would just about tolerate your existence, would you not be angry?" Of course she insisted that she wouldn't be angry but historically whenever a conversation turns to religion she decides I'm trying to convert her or something and shuts the conversation down!

Throughout this discussion mum kept telling me that I shouldn't expect miracles and that I can't expect to just clap my hands and have her immediately say "OK, from now on you are Holly!". This is about the only fair comment she made during the process. I don't expect miracles, I don't expect to speak to my grandparents again after they find out...it will hurt like hell, but I have to prepare for it. I tried to make it clear that I didn't need her to understand fully WHY I feel the need to be Holly. Just that eventually she will accept it and not feel so ashamed by the idea that she "can't possibly talk to anyone about it" (even professionals!). 

The conversation ended for a while and continued slightly later. Mum found me in my room and we started it up again. She asked if in the future I intended to be known as Holly all the time. I said I did. "But not any time soon, right?". I answered honestly, that ideally it would be soon. She repeated her question. This time I just said yes and moved on. At this point I used the word "transgender" with her for the first time. It was obvious at that moment that she really hadn't appreciated just what I was telling her. She repeated the phrase "But you're not really, are you!" over and over for a while. Eventually I got bored of saying 'yes I am' and the conversation moved on to her grasping at every straw she could.

Part of my brain found it fascinating to observe how mum desperately tried to cling on to any scrap of the child she knows that she fears would disappear completely. Another part was deeply disturbed by the cruel ways she chose to do that. Fortunately I know well enough how difficult it must be for her to take this in. It IS hard. But since she won't willingly express her concerns or give me a chance to correct any misgivings or provide her with information I can't just sit and let her get away with it.

After 5 minutes of the weakest possible arguments for why I shouldn't be Holly, she changed tactics. Mum ran out of straws to grab and chose to make something up so she didn't have to accept she might be wrong. A fascinating mental reflex! "Well obviously you're just doing this to antagonise me! You are enjoying watching me struggle with this! You like seeing how I can't take it all in!".

While I cannot deny I love observing how people react to things, no part of me is using this experience as an experiment. I don't enjoy it. It is interesting for certain, but it is not my primary motivation. I explained this to her. I then pointed out that she needed to either talk to me about her concerns or talk to a professional about what was going on in her head. Either way it's happening. 

She left rather abruptly after I explained in length how I couldn't and wouldn't beat myself up about the reactions of others to this news. I explained that I have always been a good person. I will always be a good person. The only difference will be my appearance and that fact that I will be happy. She tried to tell me again how the only women who are as tall or big as me are unattractive or awful people. This argument disgusted me so much I could write a whole blog about it on its own, but I won't! After this she left.

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SKIP TO THIS MORNING

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This morning I got up, once again sick as can be. Mum walked up to me and immediately apologised. She detailed how she would try her hardest but it needed to be a managed approach. A managed approach to TELLING PEOPLE. She wanted to get her head straight before the girls knew (something I have encouraged from the start). She said she would try and read about other peoples reactions and the book I found with information for parents. She asked if perhaps I could try and organise a paired therapy session to help her, or if she could just ask my therapist to see her about the subject.

I am going to be optimistic and say this is genuine. That perhaps part of her brain has realised I will always be the person she knew, but I'll be her amazing daughter instead of her amazing son. That I haven't died and been replaced by some stranger, just that I've changed externally a bit. Fingers crossed!

Completion!

In which I explain the reasons for the stupid grin covering my face.


This morning has been rough. I went to bed late (which is my own fault). I've had a migraine since about 1am. I've barely slept. I've been vomiting. Me head, eyes, neck hell even my TEETH hurt. I've got a really bad cold. My voice is deeper than ever. My dog ate the last part of my shoes so now I've had to buy new ones. A rough morning.

But still I'm sitting here with a smile the likes of which has never been seen on my face before. I can FEEL the smile in my eyes. For someone who has suffered depression for their entire life its a strange and wonderful feeling.

Why am I smiling? Because today I'm a step closer to completion. Today I got a parcel!


I saved it until last. I opened a couple of hair bands and a signed book insert for Neil Gaimans 'Fortunately The Milk' but I left this one until last. I knew what it was already. In the box sat a pair of breasts! (GASP. SHOCK HORROR SHE SAID BREASTS OMG!).

I'm not sure how to wear them. They don't fit right in this bra. They look a bit funny if they move the wrong way. They're not perfect, but they're mine and it feels wonderful! If I wasn't sure before, I'm sure now. This is how I am supposed to be.

Hopefully I can figure out how to make them look right before I need to go anywhere! But until then I can wear them around my home and just feel good about myself!

Holly.  xx

PS. If anyone knows how the heck bras or makeup works please tell me 'cause it confuses the hell outta me! :D

To BE or to BE WITH

In which I tell of my adventures with a man who is certain I will marry and have children.

This morning I spent with a friend of mine. He is a lovely man with a big family. As such he is keen to tell anyone who will listen (who doesn't already have a family) how wonderful family life can be.

Today we went to meet some people who had done work for him in the past. On the way (and on several occasions before today) he has told me tales of how good looking these young ladies are. This amuses me since I rarely if ever actively 'check out' anyone, at least not to the extent he seems to think I might.

During our visit he introduced me to each of the ladies as and when they turned up. After each one left he would turn to me and say something to the effect of "I told you she was nice bit of totty" or "If I was ten years younger".

Which led me to the most amusing realisation of the morning. All I thought was "Wow, I wish I looked like that!".

Turns out it's quite amusing and a little difficult to sit there and agree politely to these things when in reality I'm thinking something completely different!

Mum, I'm a woman!

In which I tell of the third argument about gender issues between my mother and I.

This evening my family returned from their weekend away. As expected, my mother strolled into my room and asked me if I was OK and if I had enjoyed my weekend. I told her that my weekend was excellent but didn't really respond to how I was. She asked again, and I shrugged. She continued to press the question.
In retrospect it is my own fault, I could have said 'Yes I'm fine' and been done with it but I'm tired of having to hide myself away for her sake. I ended up hugging her for about 10 minutes in complete silence almost in tears.

Instead I chose to tell her. "I'm not sure if I'm OK. I feel great, but I'm not completely OK!" I told her. Of course this made no sense to her and she became worried. I told her to shut the door and I would try and explain.

Instead of explaining I spent about 20 minutes staring at nothing. In her direction but not 'at' her, more 'through' her. Eventually I decided on a starting point. I asked her if she remembered our previous discussions. It became clear very quickly that she did not. She could not remember what she had said to upset me or even the subject we were discussing. She certainly could not recall what I had asked her to think about in our first argument. It was at this point I very nearly broke down in tears. My whole body was shaking and I felt awful. The last three weeks have been dreadful for me as I have tried not to bring the subject up to give her time to process the idea or to let her deal with it in her own time. To have her forget was hurtful and insulting.

I reminded her of the things she said. I reminded her that she had never asked a question since it began. It was highly unpleasant. Eventually she decided we had been talking about cross-dressing. She explained how she didn't understand it and told me how "They all look awful! Why would you want to make yourself stand out like that?". After a while of arguing she told me that I was just talking in circles. "I don't understand what you're talking about. You keep talking in code and you never answer anything. You never talk about anything relevant!"

At this point I realised I just needed to come out with it or this argument could continue forever. "OK relevant. I'm fairly certain I'm a woman!" I said, somewhat more forcefully than perhaps I intended. I tried in vain to explain that I wouldn't talk about some of the reasons (nobody wants to discuss body dysmorphia with their mum!) and others I couldn't really explain easily. It was then that she asked me how I knew it wasn't just a phase.

How do you know it isn't just a phase? A long phase perhaps!?
How do I know. This is one question I see coming up a lot. I asked her what she thought I should do if it was a phase. She told me to ignore it. This response caused me to answer her question with another question. "How long is a long phase? How long do I wait?". She had no answer for this. She actually got angry at me for asking it. She claimed I was avoiding the question. I explained to her that I could ignore it for 10 years and still keep telling myself it's just a phase and I would get over it. I did with depression and that didn't go well!

I understand where she is coming from. From her perspective this is all sudden. For all she knows, yesterday morning I decided I am female and it's been an instant thing. In reality it's been around for over 5 years I've just never payed much attention to it. I explained this to her, although it didn't really sink in.

Her next port of call was to question my use of the internet. She is a woman who does not like or use the internet. To her, the internet is just the things she assumes about facebook. To her, the whole internet is just random people spreading rubbish and lies in order to deceive. I offered her the sentiment that when I started giving her nursing advice (as she has been a nurse most of her life) then she could advise me on matters of the internet. It wasn't a clever move but it made a point. She was worried that I was being 'deceived by perverts' who could lie about anything and encourage me to become weird. She did not appreciate me asking why she thought I was incapable to identifying these people. Eventually I managed to convince her that my source of advice were legitimate. Things progressed slightly easier from here.

I tried to explain to her the 'why' of the situation. I told her of the girl in my head and how she had been there for years. She didn't quite understand it and questioned why I wouldn't just try and work on my emotions. She said that men can have feminine traits. Unfortunately I couldn't quite come up with words to explain why that missed the point. I moved on to a different tactic. I told her that if I had to imagine what she would call 'the soul' as a person, it was a girl. Always. I don't believe in a soul but it was the only thing I could think of that would be close enough to something she might understand.

She did.

From there, things were slightly easier. I told her how I had no intention of rushing in to anything and that I wasn't going to suddenly turn around and demand everything change immediately. I even told her about my day out on Saturday. I told her how amazing it felt to be dressed and to be me. I'm not convinced she fully appreciates it but hopefully she will get there in time.

The best day ever

In which I tell of what I consider to be one of the most wonderful days I've had.

Two days ago (or early yesterday morning if you want to be technical) 'Holly' made a post and it felt great. I started not being able to understand my own thoughts, and as is often the way with my writing, by the time I had written some bits down everything started to fall in to place. The considered conclusion being that I can say with confidence that I am transgender. My name is Holly and I am a girl stuck in this fleshy sack of man that is Nespus.

Yesterday I was brave. Several of my friends know about Holly. I've told them what goes on in my head and they have been wonderful. Both accepting and encouraging (in a 'be yourself, we love you anyway' sort of way, not a 'yeah you should definitely be a woman like RIGHT NOW kind of thing!). But until yesterday only two of them had met Holly in any real sense. I gave them a picture once and that was all.

Yesterday, three of my friends spent the day with Holly. Initially I asked permission from them just to be sure it wouldn't make them uncomfortable and they immediately told me that I didn't need to have asked and should just be comfortable with myself!

We had to walk the dog during the afternoon. When we walk her, I take her out of town and into a series of fields about 5-10 minutes walk from my house to run around. For months it has been my dream to walk through them 'dressed' (when this started I didn't even know who Holly was properly!). Within 2 minutes of walking out of the front door we encountered our first strangers. Strangers and a gust of wind. The wind caught my skirt but I managed to keep it down. THIS I thought, was my first PROPER experience. I've never dealt with this before, it was a little embarrassing, but it felt good in a way. When we were in the fields, I asked one of my friends how passable I was. He considered this and concluded that my posture seemed strange (it was!) and I don't have girl-boobs (I don't). Not the worst review in the world I suppose. It occurred to me that a lot of my posture was due to hiding. I was not completely aware of it until then but I was really nervous. I was walking like I normally would - I make myself look bigger to avoid attackers...I shouldn't need to but that's how it is! - and it did look strange. The boobs thing I can live with. I never want HUGE boobs. The rest of the day I tried to correct this.

The day continued as our normal Saturdays do. We played video games and chatted. My friends tried their hardest to remember to call me Holly, but after 10 years of calling me something else, I cannot find it in me to be upset that they struggled. It takes time and they tried really hard!

We went over to my friends house when our group had fully assembled. One of my friends (a cis-female) brought with her some spray things and some hair bands for me to try. She put a red hairband with a bow on my head and I got tingles from head to toe. For years my internal goal (if I admit it or not) is cuteness. This was the first time I might look cute and it was exciting. I looked in the mirror and saw myself. Long hair. Red hairband. Some very subtle eye-liner. I didn't see some stranger or just a bloke in womens attire. I saw me. I saw Holly. I felt exactly how I should. I didn't take the hair band off all evening...when I left I very nearly stole it by accident!

Later we took a bigger step. We went shopping in Tesco. About 5 seconds after walking in the front door of what has been for many years the primary food-shopping location for everyone in our area I became incredibly nervous. We looked at clothes, we considered just getting the drinks we came in for, but I reasoned that since one of the three was moving to university at the end of the month the chances of me being able to organise a group I felt remotely confident with easily were slim and I wanted to use the opportunity I had. So we looked at clothes and moved on.

Half way round the shop, and after talking extensively to my friends I realised something important. I am not doing anything wrong. To others, I am dressed in 'womens' clothing. But I'm not causing harm. I am merely being true to myself. The worst things that could happen in the middle of a shop are I get a few looks or comments OR someone I know recognises me and I have to explain later. This was the point I realised my problems came from not wanting to be inconvenienced by conversation from people who might not understand, not because I actually worried about what people would say. Suddenly, I found my confidence flooding back. My back straightened, my head was held...not high as such but certainly higher than it was. I didn't try to hide as much. It felt wonderful.

The evening played out as it usually does. I found myself at times thinking about how amazing the situation was. When the subject of cross-dressing was put to my mum she freaked out and told me how it was against the natural order. But here I was, in my friends house with a small group of friends. We walked the dog, we went shopping. We had our normal Saturday get-together as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I know my family won't take it particularly well when they have to find out but honestly, that is their problem. My friends have demonstrated to me that there are people who accept me for me no-matter who that happens to be. Eventually my family may come round to the idea but I have my friends support and that means everything to me.

I came home, removed the wig I had been wearing all day (I've never worn one for more than about half and hour before) and sat at my computer and talked to my friend. I don't remember the last time I typed so much, so quickly out of pure excitement. I told him the events of the day, every detail I could think of.

He asked me how I felt. I thought about this for a moment. What I realised was this:

I have suffered from depression for as long as I can remember. When the tablets first started to work properly I suddenly realised what it meant to feel 'normal'. Today was like that. I felt how I should. Happy and comfortable and I felt like ME. I went to bed truly happy for the first time in months.

Yesterday was amazing.

On the subject of being trans...

In which I use the opportunity to spill the contents of my brain and hope it makes some sort of sense at the end.

Today, in this blog post, I am writing not as Nespus, nor as Ellia. Nor as my given name. (Big shock, we are all the same person...gasp!)

Today I write as Holly.

Two weeks ago I made a post on a different website that I had intended to post here called "The girl in my head". It has been the longest two weeks of my life.

The post in question was the result of my brain failing. I could not sleep. My mind was racing. I had to get all the thoughts I had out of my head. In it I described the Girl who has been in my head for as long as I can remember. I've never really though much about her except that when I struggle to outwardly express an emotion I see her in my mind emoting for me. If I feel happy, she may cheer while do nothing. If I feel sad, she may cry.

I talked about how she shared my personality. I talked about how she changed. Where once she had been, similar to me in spirit, she was quite different in form. I don't mean just that she was female, I mean she was petite where I am large. She was cute, where I, to put it quite bluntly, am not. But she changed. In the weeks before I made the post the Girl changed to a form I associated with myself.

I found myself fantasizing as I often do. Nothing particularly interesting. In one instance I was lying in bed thinking about being in bed. But I saw the Girl. I saw her, curled up and happy. I wanted that. When I made the post these ideas swam through my mind but made no sense to me. I would be lying if I said they made perfect sense now, but they are certainly clearer.

As a result of my post I heard responses from others. I was shocked at the amount of people who told me they completely understood. The way I felt and the things I thought mirrored other peoples. I began to feel as the Girl did. Or more accurately, I began to realise that what the Girl felt was what I felt. Those were my feelings.

Today I write as Holly. Holly is as much part of me as anything else. Perhaps she is more, but I will address that later.

When I told my Mum I am bisexual, her reaction was not great. But worse was the joke she made afterwards.

"Well, as long as you don't go around wearing dresses or anything".

This was unfortunate for many reasons. Firstly, I have never EVER had a problem with cross-dressers, nor can I take unjustified intolerance without question. Secondly, at this stage I found myself in the early stages of cross-dressing. I wear 'womens' underwear and I own 'womens' clothes.

Needless to say, the resulting argument got rather heated and left my mum unsure as to what was going on. I did not expressly tell her I was cross-dressing but she took it upon herself to assume. A week later the argument began again. I asked her what she thought I had told her and she made a statement to the effect of 'cross dressers and weird and deviant" and expressed concern that all of a sudden I was going to become some sort of drugged out whore. The argument did not go well. At this point I do not believe I have told my mum exactly what is going on. I have told her to ask questions, I even gave her a list, for example "How do you feel about the whole thing? What exactly are you thinking?" and so on. She has yet to ask. Two weeks after this my mum is still being strange. She now finds herself apologising for the things she said (even though she doesn't know why they were a problem or what her problem actually IS yet). But she insists she doesn't know what to ask. Apparently no amount of suggestions will change this. She tries and says "So...are you...ok?" and then goes silent. It cannot continue. I have no desire to spend the rest of my days unable to be alone with my mother for fear of her suddenly worrying about something she doesn't understand and will not ask about!

The reason I mention all this is because the awkward silences caused me to think about what I would say the next time it comes up. The problem as I saw it was that saying "I am a cross dresser" does not accurately demonstrate my thoughts.

I cannot deny I have cross-dressed within the confines of my room. I wear 'womens' underwear on a daily basis. When I walk by myself I find myself wishing I could be wearing a skirt. I find myself frequently wishing I could pluck up the courage to go somewhere dressed. But it doesn't feel right to say I am a cross-dresser.

I don't know if it is because 'cross dresser' has some implied sexual side of it (even though this does not necessarily reflect the feelings of many cross-dressers) that makes it seem wrong, or if it is that it does not seem like cross dressing applies. In my mind I suppose, to 'cross dress' one would have to wear clothes intended for the opposite sex. My mind as it turns out, seems to be a girl called Holly wedged into the wrong body.

When I started this post I wasn't quite sure how it would end (nor am I convinced I am close to finishing it) however at this point I feel I can confidently say what my own evidence suggests.

I am transgender.

By various definitions, transgender is used to describe anyone who feels a difference between their sex as defined by their genitals and their gender as a sense of self.

While thinking of ways to talk to mum, the only thing I could think of was to say that while my physical body is outwardly male, the part she might call the 'soul' seems to be overwhelmingly female. Not so much in a 'way I act' because I don't subscribe to the idea of gender roles anyway, but in ways I can't really explain.

I don't know any more than this. I'm not even sure how I would go about knowing more than this. The idea scares me a little. My friends are amazing. They are incredibly supportive and understanding. My family...well I don't want them to know unless they have to. I really wish mum had just kept her mouth shut. I did not want to tell her because at the time I was even less sure than I am now. I can't tell her what it means or how it will affect me because I don;t know. Do I have body dysmorphia? Sometimes. Do I want to transition and live as a women? How the hell should I know. Arguably it doesn't change much. My hair goes back to being long, occasionally I wear different clothes and I use a different name. I'm still me. I'm still the same as I was...am... I do not know how to even begin addressing these questions or if I even NEED to.

All I know is that right now, I am Holly. I am transgender and I am happy and comfortable knowing that!

EDIT: If there IS anyone reading this, please comment if it made you think anything at all! Any input I can get will help me get my head round things! Thanks <3