Since the possibility of me being able to get SRS has gone up, I find I've been reacting super emotionally to the subject. I tear up talking about it, and even just writing about it is hard because I start crying. I'm scared of the pain, the discomfort, the whole thing, but I want it, I NEED IT ....

Oh crap. Here comes the water works ....

Well, yesterday was a bit of a mixed day. First, I went to my daughter's grad, and it went really well, which was the good part of the day. Best of all, I wore female clothes, (abet very androgynous ones), and didnt have an issue with my ex or my daughter.

The better happened about halfway through my shift - Some of you might remember me blogging a couple of years back while I was working for Zellers about working in the Health and Beauty section, and getting depressed looking at the pretty women on the boxes.

Well, my daughter has her graduation ceremony for grade 6 on Thursday, and I'll be in drag for the day - wearing boy clothes, at the insistence of her mother. I had already promised to wear clothes that were gender-neutral, but that wasnt good enough for her. The other night while I helped her do her 2nd job she demanded I not be so selfish and put on male clothes so as to cause no disruption in either the ceremony itself or the small party that will be afterward for my daughter and my family.

Well, every once in a while when writing a story, I write myself into a corner, and dont know how to get out. The last "Understanding Rachel" is a good example. I wanted to show why Rachel needs Tanya as much as Tanya needs Rachel, but in the process I didnt leave Tels a lot to work with in terms of saving them both. So she decided to lob the ball back into my court instead of the smash I was expecting, and now I'm running toward the net trying to save the point. Now its up to me to see if I can salvage this storyline, if its possible, and if anybody still cares about it.

Ah, well.

Well, on Mother's day I talked a bit about how that day and Father's day can suck for people who dont fit the gender stereotype, but today, with Father's day being tomorrow, I wanted to talk a little about some of the challenges I have being one.

First, you have to understand that I was totally not prepared for parenthood, to but it mildly. This was not just because of my gender issues, or my overall mental health, both of which have played a part in my struggle to be a good parent, but because I had no role model in my own life to draw on in terms of what a good dad looked like.

I'm conflicted about what to do with my Quest story, now that we managed to make it available on Kindle. Part of me wants to encourage all of you to buy it, and use what has been posted as a teaser to hopefully help, but I have really enjoyed the feedback I've been getting on each chapter here, and would miss it if the rest of the story wasn't posted here.

Suggestions?

For the vast majority of my life, I've felt like a failure. No matter what I tried, I failed at it, or at least that's how I saw it. Then, having nothing left to lose, I went looking for help for my rape, and then for my gender issues.

And a funny thing has happened since. I've made amazing amounts of progress on both issues.

First, with the rape, I can now ground myself through a flashback, and my nightmares have gotten much better.

My mom took me to Pennington's today to get a ladies bathing suit, and to say I got treated well is an understatement. When I told the sales lady I was transition, she told me she couldnt even see me as having ever been a boy, I was so feminine.

Neat, huh?

At about 615 this morning I dislocated my knee, and unlike the usual when this happens, it stayed out for several minutes, leaving me in enough pain to have to call my supervisor for help. I spent the last 45 minutes of my shift having to move very, very slowly and carefully, doing light work as I went.

Hopefully, this is a one-off, and not a sign I'm going to get in further trouble with it ...

Well, just got two big pieces of news. First, the federal government has passed a law extending anti-discrimination protection to trans people, meaning we no longer have to worry about things like losing a job or being denied housing because of who we are.

The second big announcement is one that effects me personally. The Alberta government has announced that they will once again cover SRS. This means that once I get my 2nd opinion in December, I will go on the list, and once they clear the backlog, I will be whole.

I actually cried with happiness when I heard this.

Well, I had a better day at work last night, and now I'm off for a couple, so I'm going to try and get a few things accomplished. But its not all rosy, as you can guess by the title of this entry, and that's because there are things in my head that kinda scare me, and I have a number of almost-mental-illness like conditions that are less than fun.

They include having some OCD-like traits -I'm not a neat freak, or a germ freak, but I have a number of "magic" little routines that seem to serve no purpose other than keep me calm. ...

Well, the last couple of days I've been in the domestic department, but when the regular staffer came back from her weekend you would have thought I turned the whole department upside down. She actually swore at me, about me, and it was not a fun experience. My trouble with such stuff is that faced with something like that, I tend to turtle and often internalize whatever is being said to me.

This leads me to a point I've been thinking about for the last while.

I'm broken.

There have been a number of news articles lately about supposed Christians acting hatefully towards gay, lesbians, or trans people.

But fortunately, not all Christians are like that, even ones who think its a sin.

A couple of people I can point to as examples of that is my brother and sister-in-law.

No matter how much they may think I'm making a mistake in transitioning, they continue to show love and support to me even when I was acting in a way that made me less than loveable.

Just wanted to give them some props for this.

Outside my mother's room is a charcoal portrait of me, taken in my 20's. I have a mustache in the picture, and for many years its been a bit of a challenge to not look at that painting without feeling a bit pained.

But yesterday, I happened to glance at it, and somehow, something had changed. Like one of the hidden images in some pictures, all of a sudden I could honestly see a girl in that face, even with the facial hair.

Make of that what you will.

They say confession is good for the soul, but bad for the reputation, so I might as well find out if they're right by making a confession of my own.

There are bits of my mind that scare the heck out of me.

Sometimes it feels like I may not be alone in my head, and somewhere in the boatload of darkness inside me there is something, or someone else.

And that something or someone isnt a nice critter in any way, shape or form.