In which Lorcan writes about (his) sexuality using an extended metaphor of the ocean.

I’ve learnt this week that sexuality really is a very fluid thing. Of course, I was already aware of this, but I’d never felt the affects personally.

I'm one of those people that feels being open about stuff is the best way to teach others, even if I only hold that law to information about transitioning or topics related to it. But this is connected, really.

As previously mentioned, my partner visited last week for four days. As a result, I’ve learnt a hell of a lot about myself, and become more comfortable with the body I’m forced to live in until I’m able to adjust it to my liking with surgery and testosterone injections.

The thing is, I’ve lived happily for 16 years and 9 months under the term ‘asexual’. It’s something I’m comfortable with, something I was rather proud to call myself. Sure, some people see it as a problem, something that needs fixing and changing. That you should see someone. But if you are asexual, or you’re actually accepting, you know it’s no more a problem than being gay is. It’s simply an absence of sexual attraction, and still a valid sexual orientation.

I’ve had that argument a hundred times. From my family, from people who I thought were friends. The idea that it would change, that I hadn’t met the right person, or I should broaden my horizons. Really, that’s incredibly offensive, but as it turns out, they were all right. About me, at least.

I’m not about to start suggesting it’s the same for everybody. In fact, I’m adamant about the idea of people having their own lifestyles and sexualities and people leaving them alone.

I’ve become so used to the term I latched onto a few years ago to explain my (lack of) feelings, and suddenly I find myself without it, and a new way of looking at things. I’m stranded in a sea of sexual lifestyles and I don’t know which horizon to swim to. I’d feel safe, if I had my partner by my side to ground me, but she’s on the other side of a physical ocean, and though I’m set to travel there in five weeks, I currently have to struggle alone with no idea what to do with myself and a sense of loss.

It’s not a bad experience at all. It was unplanned, yes, but I learnt new things about my partner, and myself and we’re closer than ever before for the trust we’ve added to our already strong connection, and it really was a wonderful thing, but now I feel an urge to find a new column, like a riptide threatening to drag me under unless I keep myself afloat.

Titles mean very little to me, as do names, but I feel overwhelmed, raw and out of control, and it’s the only thing that I can hold onto.

Queer, perhaps, is something I’ll stick to. It’s all encompassing, it covers everything.

In the space of seven days, I learnt just how fluid life can be, and my life is better for it. But it’s a shame to feel I’m no longer part of an asexual community I once watched from afar and sometimes joined in with. I shouldn’t feel that way, since I’ve never felt a desire to get in with a heterosexual group at all, but then I was never in that area, so I don’t know what I’m missing.

People used to say ‘you’re so lucky, you’ll never get distracted when you should be working’, but now that’s changed. I’m luckier now, because I know that once I get to start Testosterone, everything will rocket, and I’d rather have an understanding of what I’m in for than get suddenly tossed overboard and be forced to sink or swim.

I suppose the point of this post is partially because I wanted to acknowledge the change in my life, but also because I wanted to really show how much things can shift massively in the space of just a few hours.

I said before that I suspected my asexuality was connected to my gender dysphoria, and I was correct in my theory. Once I became more relaxed with myself, I was able to, well, get to a point where a post like this is required. I'm happier with my skin now, even though I don't want to keep the gender I've been given. But in time, I may love my trans* body, like many others I admire. Like Buck Angel, but more on him another time, because that guy deserves his own post.

And I wouldn't have that without my partner. I wouldn't even be admitting that I am trans*. She really is amazing.

Sarah-Jane Smith says life on earth can be an adventure too, if you just know where to look, and her words have never been more true. I'm not sure this is what she meant, though. But I did always suspect her to be a lesbian, so perhaps.

This metaphor was originally just something that happened by accident. But a friend of mine I’m talking to asked if I used an ocean specifically for this topic because it’s ‘Wishy-washy-weird-and-damp’, so I’ll end with that and leave it there. Thanks Ivan.

More To Come.

Just a quick note that I will be posting several different posts over the next week or so, but I want them all to do themselves justice, so I want them to be good. I have a few topics to cover, including sexuality, David Bowie, and a model I just discovered. The three are not necessarily related. And I don't know what I'm more excited to work on first.

Embrace Your Originality

Well, what a hell of a few days I've had. This has shaped up to be the most hectic and amazing half term ever.

This post is mostly about me being lost, and then me going through a culture shock.

The weekend was uneventful, apart from my discovering the Marauders properly (from Harry Potter, if anyone needs the information) and Skype calling my partner throughout pretty much the entire day. I tried to do school work and ended up whining and asking to be read stories. My partner is wonderful and usually said yes.

But yesterday is when it all kicked off.

I got an appointment to meet somebody from Over The Rainbow at a clinic in my local town and got there under the words 'meeting a friend in town'. It was a sexual health clinic, and the waiting room was full of girls all staring and the posters were all about contraception, condoms, STIs and STDs, Cocaine Anonymous meet ups, all stuff I can't actually use. But then I got called through, as 'Lorcan', and met one of the OTR workers, Kevin. He's this guy in the second photo, with his leg around someone else and staring at you in a vaguely erotic manner. Everyone at OTR are trained NHS workers, and it's the only place in the UK with that kind of support for LGBT folk. We spoke about where I am in my transition, where I want to be, what kind of situation I'm in at home and at school. He's really camp, really friendly, and just generally an amazing guy. I want to hug him for being my first step.

He said he'd get me in contact with a therapist guy, but that's 'secret squirrel', as Kevin said, or confidence and privacy reasons, so I'm going to say no more than his name's Richard and he's a wonderful person. I left an hour after the meeting began, with two NHS pack things and a booklet called 'Live my Life', all about trans* life, surgery, coming out, transitioning, advice and service groups, and some pretty powerful quotes with photos of people in Bournemouth trans* community. I didn't want to leave the session at all.

There's a fortnightly group session at the centre itself, and the next one was tonight, from 6:30 to 8:30. It's two weeks because the group is split into guys and girls. He said if I could make it, that would be brilliant, and he'd show me around the area, which is titled The Triangle, and is full of queer friendly shops or cafés. I told him I'd try, but convincing my parents might be too difficult. But it would be better for me to at least go once, so I can meet other people.

I got home, told everything to my partner, and we agreed that I should go, definitely. I sorted out train times, thanked the gods that I got paid by my boss yesterday morning, and broke the news to my parents. The original plan was to tell them I was going to a trans* meeting session and that was it, but I broke a bit and had to say I was going to a workshop with my mate, Emmett, who I've mentioned before from NCS. My parents weren't happy, but accepted that I wasn't going to listen to them.

So today, at midday, I set off to town, and ran into my friend at the bus stop. We chatted and I updated him on my plans, got his help to buy tickets, and he saw me off. I missed Richard's call, but got on the train anyway.

For once, the station cafe was out of Earl Grey. I didn't know it was that popular. I had to settle for mocha, but it was beautiful.

When I finally got to my voicemail, I found he couldn't book me in, and without a one to one with him first, I'm not allowed into group sessions. Needless to say, I was panicked and shaking and freaking out. What was supposed to be a lovely train journey to what sounds like the town of my dreams was quickly turning into a train or terror.

Bournemouth is bloody massive. I got off the train and exited on the wrong side of the platforms, and had to ask directions from a lovely old man in his 60s, but he didn't know where Over The Rainbow was, or what it was. The customer services sent me to the other side, and I got lost about which bus to get. Then I realised I hadn't thought about fares and had to navigate a big Asda to find a cashpoint (and got distracted by some lovely suits and a whole rack of Skyfall DVDs which I knew I had money to buy). Then I messed up buses again, and finally got the right one. I asked to be let off at the road name, but they dropped me at the roundabout by the same name. Turns out they aren't the same place.

I doubled back to find The Triangle itself, mostly identifiable by clubs like Does Your Mother Know?, with it's pride bar along the bottom of the logo, and massive pride flags out from, and The Branksome, which is where a lot of fundraisers go on.

I located a cafe Kevin mentioned yesterday, called Flirt. I asked where to find the centre, and a lovely woman directed me. It took so long to find it, because they chose an area out of the way to provide a more confidential service. Understandable, but tricky.

Kevin found me first, and was really pleased to see me! I was introduced to a fellow transguy called Jay. I'm sure he's okay with being outted, since he isn't stealth. But I'm sticking to first names and no characteristics, just to be sure. And only names if I feel I need to.

Jay is lovely, and I spoke to him for a while about starting T, surgery (he showed off his chest and I tried not to radiate jealousy) and general life. Richard was fully booked with one to one sessions, but I at least got to speak to someone else for a bit.

Kevin and I took a wander around The Triangle, to all the venues like grooming parlours, the clubs, bars, shops, places to eat and meet up. I met so many people it was amazing. I started getting a bit shaky and haven't stopped yet, even at half past midnight. Everyone met me as Lorcan, and didn't question it at all. And they were all so camp. I felt right at home. If I live in Bournemouth, and Brighton doesn't work, I'm working at Flirt. I'm pretty sure they were playing Bela Lugosi's Dracula on the TV in the corner. That swung it all, for me.

Back at the centre, it turned out Richard's 5pm wasn't there, so I got a session! The kid who was late, Kieran, showed up about half an hour later, but by then we'd talked enough that it was fine. Richard said he could tell, within about a minute of me talking, that this was the real deal, which was a massive confidence boost.

A poet I met a while ago, back in 2011, named Andrew McMillan, through my school English class. We did a few poetry sessions, then he left. I was devastated. He quickly became a bit of a hero of mine, and it turns out he works closely with Over The Rainbow. Kevin called him, and he remembered me, said I was a really good poet, and sent over a flier for an earlier thing he did, so that I could show my parents what I'd been up to, if they asked. It was really nice to hear his voice again, even through a quiet phone conversation I wasn't a part of. I felt soothed, almost, to have this link to something I'm confident with in a world of uncertainty where the only thing I could be sure of was my name.

It was too late for Kieran to start his talk, so he offered to come with me to Flirt, because I had to get something to eat and Group didn't start until 6:30. We got on incredibly well, and he's 19 now, but started working it out at my age, so we could swap stories and stuff. I found out that 6 months into Testosterone, you actually have to have lower surgery to remove female organs, because the testosterone poisons them. So that's a bit terrifying.

We chatted about everything from school, to binding, to how unhelpful our parents are. We actually didn't see the time until 6:50pm, and rushed back, but it wasn't under way until 7pm, and the first half hour is for chatting, which was what we did anyway.

We took our seats, a wonderful colourful array of trans* folk both both men and women, and I spotted a kid across the room with a necklace that I'd given my partner for Christmas, a Supernatural necklace that Dean Winchester wears. I stayed quiet, not wanting to embarass him, but before everyone got settled he asked 'is that a Doctor Who badge?' from across the room. I responded with 'is that a Supernatural necklace?' and we started shouting stuff across the room at each other. He recognised my Captain America badge, knew my The Clash tee without seeing the whole name, and has tumblr. We had a bit of a moment, to be honest, and agreed to swap details at the end.

It was brilliant to make three friends in such a short time. There's another guy who comes down once a month all the way from London, and he was there tonight. A proper punk, right down to a 'god save the queen' print attached to his jacket with safety pins. I felt so fake and unreal with my simple skinny jeans, metal chain, The Clash tee and black shirt. Like I wasn't doing it properly. But in a nice way.

Everyone welcomed me, we complimented each other and spoke about passing in public, how we deal with shopping for ourselves, school systems, outting ourselves in certain situations. Luna, this wonderful kid who sat on the floor because we were out of chairs, told me I was really brave for starting the talking and being so involved for my first session. I may have blushed a bit.

At the end of the evening, which ran on to 9pm on account of the amount of people attending, I got offered a lift back to the station by Maddy, a lovely woman. I swapped details with the kid I'd bonded with, but Kieran had left, sadly. I also ninja'd a copy of Pride Life, which is a cool magazine. Wish I'd grabbed G somethingorother too, but it was going to be difficult enough to smuggle one back, let alone two. Another kid was getting my train, so we both got a lift.

Problem was, the session had run so late that we'd missed the train, and the next wouldn't be for an hour. And when I got to my town, I'd have missed last bus. My parents would have gone insane and banned me from ever going on such journeys again because I'd be too irresponsible.

But Maddy is amazing and wonderful, and she actually drove us both all the way back to our places, even though she didn't need to. I could have cried with joy.

I hid the magazine down the back of my jeans, stuff my tee with my scarf, embarrassingly enough, and rushed straight to the bathroom when I got in, to sort myself out. My mum picked something out of my hair for a brief moment, I was scared she'd find glitter in my hair or something, even though I've not been near any. I've been so seeped in the gay environment that I've longed for for so long that I felt like I was radiating it.

So today was busy, and scary, and a massive step for me. Last week I asked my school to change my name on the registers, and that's being sorted when we go back next week. In the space of five days, I have taken a huge leap towards being who I truly am, and I don't think I'd be anywhere if it weren't for my partner, guiding me and politely shoving me in the right direction when I don't know where I am any more. I wouldn't have admitted my identity if not for her, not even to myself. I wouldn't have sourced out a therapist and found Over The Rainbow. I wouldn't be Lorcan, at all. I owe it all to her.

And tomorrow, she's coming down for four days, so we can both unwind and ground ourselves again. I'm actually typing at 1am on the 20th of February right now, but I want to give all this information to the most important person in my life first, so I've put this on a timer. Gotta get my priorities in order.

Well, that's... That's a lot of information. I've had a massive shock to my system, of having an entire day being called what I actually want to be called, being happy, not having to hide myself. Being at home again feels crippling and I keep having to drop my shoulders from their hunched positions of defence against a world that doesn't understand my wishes, a world so far removed from the day I've had, despite being only an hour by journey.

It's terrifying, and amazing, and utterly brilliant, and this double agent lifestyle isn't nearly as glamorous and the movies make it out to be, but if days like today are what I get out of it, days of complete euphoria and relaxation, then it's entirely worth it. And I can't wait for the day that I can take my partner to all the places I've seen, introduce her to the people I've bonded with.

I offered to work with Autostraddle, too, but they won't choose a trans* author until March 1st, and even then it's technically women only. But I could do with the money to fund trips to these meetings, and for other things relating to it. Still, I guess I understand if I can't get in, because I'm not the audience they cater for. If there are any lovely ladies who would be interested, you should really try! There's still time! The link takes you to the post itself.

And now, I should try to sleep, since I'll see my love in just over 12 hours. Or rather, by the time this posts, I'll be with her. That's a brilliant thought. One to leave with.

I can find my way, I can go the distance.

It appears progress is being made.

A good friend offered to help me present more male (though after much deliberation I declined the offer to tone up my muscles and such, since this isn't about changing who I am, just making me feel comfortable, and I'm not sure that's the right method). Another stopped me protesting and told me they're getting me a binder, which will mean I'll have two, as I'd hoped, though I'll be unable to wear them at home. But still, good to know they're there.

And above all that, it seems I may have an appointment and I might be in luck. Over The Rainbow got back to me, saying they were really sorry about not replying, but they're being refurbished, and one of the team is going to be in my closest town most Mondays, and I'm going to be booked into an appointment next Monday.

It sounds promising, it really does. I might get somewhere with this.

I'm also going to have a haircut before I go to the appointment, partly funded by the friend buying me a binder who is far too kind and I don't deserve that much generosity.

I won't lie, it's partly to help me feel better and less dysphoric, but also to try to pass better at the clinic afterwards. They actually addressed me as Lorcan, and that is just... amazing.

And I'm trying to work up courage to ask the school to change my name, but we'll see about that one.

New Years

New Years. I spent it watching Priscilla Queen of the Desert, dancing to ABBA and watching RENT, all with my partner over Skype. I tasted expensive alcohol that tasted like mozzarella, and thought about how much has changed.

Over the course of 365 days - or 525, 600 minutes, as RENT sing – I left one relationship that I never really cared about, and entered into the best one I could ask for. I had a few hair cuts, met some wonderful people in Dartmoor, went to Sweden for a weekend, and began planning my future.

And admitted that I’m male, to myself and my partner, and my family, in a sense.

I found a name that I like, that fits me better than the old one. It feels like it’s tailored to me, like nobody else ever had it, except the character I borrowed it from. I like how it sounds, how it looks, how it isn’t normal or expected, like myself.

I got a new ring that basically signals marriage in future, began honestly thinking about surgery, hormones, Universities, marriage, kids. I went to the Harry Potter studios and saw the Hobbit, and found two wonderful friends that both understand and accept everything I am or will be.

In 2011, I’d never have believed any of that, and all events are important and dear to me.

So this, here, is a memorial to all of that, and to everything that waits. I’ve spent a while thinking things over, and come to a conclusion of what I want to have achieved by the last day of 2013.

-         Have an actual binder. Desperately. For reasons that are pretty much obvious.

-         Get to Sweden, at least once. Summer. And for New Years, if we can manage it. And Easter, though that one is still in the wings.

-         Progress in any way possible to my transition. Tell people, get school to change my name, get my friends to adjust. Soon only my family will be the ones using the other name, which will make that the one that’s a problem. Show them that it isn’t a name nobody will take seriously, because Sweden is fine with it, so is America. So is bloody England.

-         ‘You Do You’. Brian Kinney in Queer As Folk says ‘no apologies, no regrets.’ And there aren’t any better words to live by. Maybe I can’t be ‘out and proud’ at home, but I can do it anywhere else.

-         Consider applying for Uni very soon. Those who apply in October are more likely to get where they want to than those in January. It’s just next year.

-         Work hard for exams. Revise properly. Brighton only allows BBB grades; I need to get there. Failing, Mark Gatiss went to Leeds, Benedict went to Manchester. But Brighton is the dream.

-         Get a councellor or therapist. My last sucked, but there are other options. There are ways.

That’s as far as I can get. Nothing else is possible until 2014, but it’s a good list as it stands.

Until there is another chance, unless I have a sudden chance, that’s the best I can do for now. I am ‘only’ 16, after all.

Speaking of 16. I notice I've had that many page views today. Thank you! And I have readers across the ocean. You can't believe how amazing that feels, really.

Debriefing.

It’s been a while, and a lot has happened. So there will be this post, to debrief, and another to talk about the coming year.

Since my brother found out, things were alright for a while. I figured I had an ally. Turns out he was a double agent.

I worked up the courage to gather an e-mail for my parents, the words both faintly bitter and telling them directly. I included a load of links (not like the ones on my last post) that explained absolutely everything, even went to the trouble of finding them a pdf document that literally went through how to handle, what to do and say. I mentioned that I’d had to find my own councellor – backfired, she had no idea what to do with me – and said how difficult it can be to just leave my room.

If that didn’t do it, I was sure nothing would, and I was right. I got a mass of crap about nobody caring what gender I am, and refusal to address me how I want them to.

I just left it, figuring there was nothing I could do, but the next weekend they both got a little drunk at woke me at 6am with their shouting downstairs. They wished they’d never let me online, intended to spring a conversation on me without warning. I texted my brother, which seemed like a good plan, told him about my name changing that I’d intended to do in three weeks when my partner visits. He told my parents and the next evening I was called downstairs to talk to them all.

It boils down to the fact that I’m too young. Apparently. Too young to know what’s really good for me, because at my age things that seem important won’t be, later on. I’m not allowed to ‘mutilate’ my body, or modify it, because I’ll regret it down the line. And no name changing. Oh, and meet them half way on all this.

Problem being, they’ve not given me a halfway, just their way.

My mother confronted me separately, a few days before, told me not to bind, because she hates what it’s doing to me, it’s damaging, it’s ridiculous, me saying that my chest makes me uncomfortable. Even suggested it’s a mental instability.

But when it comes down to it, they still want me to be happy. Somehow.

So I’m interpreting it as follows: While parents may be correct about many things, simply because they have more experience, that is not the case when it comes to LGBT* problems, or our own bodies. They’re idiotically gender stereotypical, and selfishly don’t want to lost ‘their daughter’. Nobody can tell you what you think. I just have to hang in for a while longer. Once I hit 18, they actually have no control, and I can do anything I need to, telling them once and for all that this has been hanging over my head my entire life, and I’m sick of their lies.

Only 16 months until I’m 18. Only four until I’m old enough to fly without their need for consent, so I can run to Sweden when I need to.

It’s going to be alright, I hope. It has to be, really, there’s no way around it.

I also got some awesome support today, but more on that another day when I’ve had time to type everything together.

Coping with or Tackling Gender Dysphoria

I'm using this title in hope that people who need advice may stumble across it. I've spent hours scrolling through web pages trying to find help with these issues. And I know something like this is exactly what I'm looking for.

I'm going to put in a load of links here that have helped me. As well as it hopefully helping others, if I need to access these links away from my laptop, I'll be able to. So it's good for all, really.

These aren't specific, either. Transguys or girls can benefit from these, I think. Of course, what helps is entirely subjective, but I can only do so much.

First, I can't sing the praises of Susan's Place enough. A safe space for Trans* folk, intersex, pre or post op, anything in between to talk about all the issues that you'd usually be thinking 'it's a trans* thing' if you considered trying to explain. They have different posts for literally anything, even stuff you'd not dare to bring up yourself. I've found that looking through the posts and discussions helps because there are other people having problems, too, and we're not alone in this.

Some notes on meditation has helped me a heck of a lot. Actually, that entire blog. I think I may have mentioned ellie before, but for the purposes of people who only find this page, I'll pretend otherwise. They talk about various breathing techniques they've found that help, and books to help if you want further reading. The rest of the blog is well written, thoughtful, and just generally fascinating.

Autostraddle is actually a blog for lesbians all over the world. They cover gay topics and such, and newsworthy things that are just important (their coverage of the USA elections were particularly good). Despite happily being a gay mostly asexual transguy that's engaged to a wonderful and perfect girl over in Sweden (I never suggested I'm conforming), I actually stalk this website a fair amount. They've got two posts that help with dysphoria, and there are probably more, I just haven't found them yet. Just going through the blog itself helps me, reminds me how much good there can be in the world. But less of that, this is about you guys.
   '25 things to help dysphoria seem smaller and quieter' is exactly as it sounds. As is a 'Make-It-Better' box. I have two, and am considering a third. One goes in my school bag, and is a wooden die. I fill it with a Swedish coin, a Doctor Who badge, guitar pic, 'fairy stone', with a hole in the middle that supposedly helps you to see fairies, a few other odd little things, and a bag of earl grey tea, in case I'm desperately in need for a sit down and chill out moment. The other lives on my desk, with a glitter-made gay flag pattern on top and the promo pictures of Benedict Cumberbatch and Johnny Lee Miller's Frankenstein at the National Theatre. It reminds me that society doesn't always get it right, and even those who are perceived as monsters have their own emotions. It, too, has a Swedish coin, cinema tickets, a figurine of young Anakin Skywalker, a playing card of Loki (somebody I see as just trying to have fun, but horribly misunderstood and isolated, which led to his downfall), a small device that was once in a pen that plays out the sound of the TARDIS landing, or the old Who theme tune, and a load of other things that remind me of better times, of being happy. I can't stress enough how much having one of these around helps. Just knowing it's there, if I need it, is wonderful, and the time taken to put it together distracts you from everything else.

A good friend of mine, Ivan, wrote a poem a while ago. I'm sure he won't mind me sharing it here, since it's on his Tumblr anyway. More reminders that we're not alone in this struggle. Actually, I have a strange inkling this may have been almost directed at me.

I've mentioned before, when I found it, but there's also support for trans* folk who don't have supporting families, rather like myself. 40 moms, 40 messages is that support. Audios, videos and written pieces from mums, dads and families that take you under there wing for a few moments, to remind you that you're loved, even by those who don't know you. I was in a dysphoric place when I stumbled over this, and each message made me cry with relief.

Another 'how to cope' article, here, too. And finally, sorry ladies, here's a last tips guide. I'm sure it can still apply to trans*girls, but that wasn't the original audience, so you'll have to skip a few things.

That's all I've managed to gather, but I'll be sure to edit this accordingly if I find other sources.

Other things I've found to help are chocolate, music that you find relaxing, or a movie you connect with. For me, that's Sherlock, or Jeeves and Wooster, or all manner of gay-based films that I've mentioned in previous posts. Just taking some time alone, to think over everything. I find my thoughts drifting to when I know things will get better. For me, that's about nineteen months away, when I'll move to Brighton for Uni. I'm determined to get there, and my partner will meet me there. I can start transitioning, because I'll be old enough to tell my parents to stuff it and do what I know I've needed to all my life. I start planning what I'll leave behind, what I'll take with me. What matters, what I'll do.

It's mentioned in one of those links, but talking out loud works, too. Voicing your problems, or typing them. Stephen King talks about nobody really knowing where they stand on something until they've written it down. Getting all the pent up energy out really helps. Or writing a letter, talking about why you're feeling the way you are. Keep it, burn it, rip it up, whatever.

At the end of the day, dysphoria is down to the individual, as is how to make it go away, or even lessen it. Some things may work, some won't. But the amount of links and information, and the online community as a whole, show that it isn't something anybody has to go through alone.