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.

List 10 things.

In my classroom the other day, there was a homework on the board that I believe connects somehow to Private Peaceful by Michael Morpurgo. But it looks like year 7 work - that's around age 11/12 I think, for anyone out of England. It's been a while.

So the homework was to list 10 feelings or words that you feel explain your relationship with your family. I was a little shocked by the emotions I got on first impact, so I thought I'd play this game, see what I would write if that were my homework. See what my teachers would have to read.

1. Dysfunctional.

2. Untrusting.

3. Misunderstanding.

4. Wrong.

5. Tense.

6. Built on untruths.

7. One-sided.

8. Useless.

9. Out of my depth.

10. Out of place. 

Okay. I think what we can see from this list is that when I'm tired I get more honest, and that there's something seriously wrong with my family relationship.

I can't help but wonder what my teacher would say, like, if they'd take my aside and ask if I'm okay, if I need someone to talk to. Any maybe I do. I haven't spoken to Richard for months because I can't afford it and I thought I was fine, and my name has gone through, I'm fine there. Until I get through my GP sending me to a psychoanalyst or something, there's not much I can do.

I guess we'll see. There's a lot of time for all that. Sort of.

You Should've Raised A Baby Girl, I Should've Been A Better Son

It seems Moony's family has accepted me fully as another one of the kids. Her mother, especially.

When we left the flat the other day Moony's mum grabbed her face gently and kissed her cheek, then immediately did it to me, and called us her darlings.

I made coffee for her both days this weekend because Moony was working long shifts so I didn't bother going along, and she called me a darling again. I pretty much skipped in a very unmanly fashion back to our bedroom.

Her grandpa called us his little ones at the hospital the other day when we first arrived, seeming so proud, and her brother hugs me, has a nickname for me. Calls us babies...

Her dad, well, he's difficult, kinda distant, not into hugs although I think we did once. It was weird.

And this is going to sound tragic, but I can't get over how good it feels to be loved so completely, to be called the right name consistently, to be accepted and appreciated. To have a mum that really cares and that I don't feel uncomfortable around, that I'm not always waiting for a trigger from.

What I'm pretty much trying to say, I guess, is that I wasn't lying when I said being here feels like being home.

Killing monsters, hunting things... The family business.

I'm starting to really appreciate the lives of Sam and Dean Winchester.

They have everything they need in one place. They don't have to worry about exams - well, Sam did until Dean pulled him out - or any of the normal crap that most people do. Everything they own is in that car or in storage and they only have the minimum. They get by through swiping credit cards and all the hunters keep in contact with each other like some sort of underground community.

Maybe they didn't have an awesome upbringing, spending most of their lives stuck in low-budget hotel rooms while their dad goes hunting.

But they managed, and they're incredibly close. They joke around, tease each other and have arguments, but they will always fight to the death for each other. And have, pretty much every season.

Their dad didn't always understand them, and it was down to Dean to keep Sam safe, but they managed it, they're still managing it.

The complete lack of attachment  is something I would love to have. Just driving and moving from county to county to do what they know is right. Yet here I am, trapped within my house with a group of people that do not understand me at all, and miss the fundamental basics of caring for the youngest in the family.

I got a lecture about why facebook may be worth my time, from my brother, and he started it with using my given name in a patronising tone. I told Moony about it and she suggested I tell him he isn't allowed to call me that. But it's still legal and that's how my family operates. I said that what's important to one person is easily forgotten by another, and the reply of 'not when it's your family' hurt in such a way I hadn't expected. It's not Moony that hurt, rather the realisation of how dysfunctional my family is, and they aren't even aware of it.

But Dean and Sam, they have their family. Bobby says 'family don't end with blood', and I've covered that before, but it's so true. They meet most of their blood relatives through hunting, but there's also Bobby, who was like a dad to them, and Garth, the annoying little brother. And Cas. Lost, falling, angelic, too-much-heart Castiel.

Their life is fucked up, I'll admit it. And it's so dangerous that they've all died, mostly more than once, apart from the Ghostfacers, for some reason (Ghost-- Ghostfacers! are my favourite characters aside from Sam, Cas, Dean and Crowley. They're useless amateurs trying to be hunters but their naive enthusiasm is endearing). But it's also fun, in some ways. They're free to take time off, and to mess around and just be themselves. It's often stressful, but they don't have to go through anything alone, and they're understood by each other. So long as they're willing to talk about their freaking feelings.

Really, they're just two brothers keeping each other going. If I could have that with Moony, I don't think I'd ever want anything else. We wouldn't hunt much, because I don't want either of us to die any time soon, but it would be a hell of an adventure.

I've always been that kid that stares at the horizon and thinks about how amazing it would be to chase it with wind in the sails of the old galleon I was crew of, or something. So it's no wonder, really, that I still dream of it.

Sam and Dean would probably flip if they knew I wanted their life, or willingly give it up. But life-and-death-but-mostly-death aside, it's a pretty sweet set-up they've got.