Well, I've had a busy day off. I went and did my month-end banking, got my daughter a bus pass for November, booked my car in for service tomorrow, started work on a new story and was contacted by the weight loss clinic and set up an appointment.

I was really happy about the last, because it means I can get started on a weight loss regimen right away, and I told them about the transition, and they seemed pretty cool with it, so that's good.

Another tiny step forward, I think.

My daughter noticed my breasts yesterday, calling them "grapefruit". On the other hand, she's still playing and giggling with me, so that's good.

Well, last night was a pretty good night at work. I felt like I accomplished a lot, and kept up to the pace expected of me.

Nice to have that after the nastiness of the last couple of days.

Well, yesterday I had a bunch of night terrors that pretty much wrecked my sleep, so I was very tired last night when I went to work.

Then things got worse.

I dont want to sound like I dont appreciate my online friends, but I really wish I had a girlfriend I could go out for a coffee with. Its my day off work, and I really feel lonely, and there isn't a lot I can do about it.

Ah, well.

When I first went on the 'net, I joined a chat site called IMVU, and met some wonderful people there.

Well, after having a painful day at work, I gave up on the shoes and traded them in for a men's pair.

In the last couple of days, I've had a couple of different people at different stores treat me like a woman, and it feels really good when it happens.

Been thinking a lot about my attractions to people since I did the "elephant in the room" post, and I found something odd looking back at the girls I had crushes on.

Last night I went to the pot-luck for our trans support group, and discovered something interesting.

There is an elephant in my room. A big, smelly elephant leaving droppings all over the place, but I dont want to see it.

Last night I had a dream, in which I was lost looking for a hospital downtown in a strange city. (I think I was supposed to be working there).

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving, everyone.

I was reading this book about a woman who has a breakdown on my breaks at work, and it got me thinking about visiting my brother in the mental ward when we were both kids.

Well, last night at work, we were sharing some stories about our respective childhoods, and I talked about snapping and almost killing my stepfather, ending with the statement "I'm dangerous."

I phoned the doctor's office about the stuff they were supposed to send to the gender specialist, and they dont have any record of the stuff at all. Nothing in my file except I came in for a full work-up, nothing else.

I honestly dont know what to do now.

My best option I think is to get the stuff from the gender doc again, go to a different doctor and go through the whole thing again, but considering I suffered a week of flashbacks after the last time, I would rather not.

This.... sucks.

I just got back from the gender specialist, and while everything else is go, they never received from my family doctor the results of my physical.

I

AM

NOT

HAPPY

I've had a few people compliment me on my transition, calling me "brave", and it got me thinking - Am I actually being brave, doing this?

"The Echo chamber"

Right now, I'm in manic mode, and you'd think that would be good news compared to being depressed, and there are some benefits to it, but there are risks too.

A couple of nights ago, I was talking at work about my lack of tolerance for alcohol, and said I had only tried it twice.

Last night, my daughter couldn't find the little communication book she's supposed to bring home from school, but didnt admit it until we were picking up her mother. Her mother was upset, and I promised to check at my house, and I thought it was over with.

Then this morning, her mother called and started yelling at my mother for Sam not having the book, and then my mom started coming down on me for not being responsible and involved with my daughter, and I ended up getting angry myself, yelled at Sam's mother, and went back to bed.

When I was a teen, I started thinking about writing stories, and had a couple of ideas that I fooled around with. Never really took them seriously, so they went away, came back, and went away again.