Anything easy has its cost.

This is a post about time changing. It's a melancholy subject, and slightly spurred on by a series of markers and things in my life, and more than slightly by One Direction's new single and music video, Story Of My Life.

Two years ago, I met Moony.

At that time, I didn't have my name, I wasn't comfortable with who I was, I didn't like the world or anything the reality in my life was shoving at me.

But now I'm Lorcan, and I'm okay. I'm happy and content.

The last post was my 100 marker. I meant to make a special post about it but I guess I lost track of things. Wil Wheaton writes how when he looks back at his first blog posts, he wants to cringe away and change them, because they were so far removed from how he writes now. I think I get that. I can't really tell if my writing has changed since last July, but I know I've changed as a person. A lot.

When I started this blog, I didn't have a name I was happy with, I just knew I wanted one. I was working with Sam Hall, but Lorcan fits me.

Yesterday, I finally gave in a wrote a letter to my parents before leaving for London for a day, where I explained being Trans*, said it in a way that didn't leave room for discussion, told them I'd changed my name and I'm going to get testosterone, and that's that. I channelled my inner Spock to a degree that my formality became passive aggressive sass.

And we haven't discussed it. Not once. My letter is crumpled up like it's been held in a loose fist, my documents are still on the footrest, but its been read. I've done all I can. They haven't spoken to me about it so I assume they've taken the same approach they always have, the idea that if they ignore it, or if they don't, I'm going to do whatever the fuck I want anyway. And that's pretty legit. I am doing my own thing, but I would have liked their support.

Today, I told them I'm going to Sweden for Christmas. They were unwilling. I said that since Moony was refused to stay here last year for the holiday, and my mum muttered that this is payback, then. They missed my point entirely. But my brother's girlfriend is allowed, because she lives here. I firmly stated that flights are expensive between Christmas and New Years, so why not be there for both. They're angry about it, but ultimately they can't do anything, and they have no choice but to allow it.

And this has awakened some sort of realisation in me. Something that's terrifying and invigorating.

They just don't care any more. They've given up. Whatever I do, they're not going to help me, they aren't going to support or back me up on anything, they're just going to sit through it.

And I've done everything that I have the power to do. I've given them all the information I can, and they haven't called me on it, asked how I'm doing. Nothing.

So I can bind wherever in the house I want without fear of upsetting them. I can start the process of meetings to eventually get testosterone, I can have stuff sent to me to start the legal name changes.

They can't do anything about it. If they wanted to, really, they'd have tried harder. Or better yet, they'd have told me they were willing to help me.

I have all the support I need. Family don't end with blood.