Morning gorgeous ❤️
How are we all today? Good I hope. And, as always, for that aren’t or can’t be. My thoughts and prayers are with you. I pray that your difficulties will soon pass. This world can be a horrible place, but if you let that get to you, it will destroy you. Keep fighting for a better world, as I am sure one is coming. The world is changing but change is always difficult, it is never meant to be easy.
Which is the basic subject of this post. It’s about change. In all its forms. Be it catastrophic change, or just a change to your daily routine. There is always something that needs to change, always for the better; even if it doesn’t feel like that at the time.
Six years ago, I described a catastrophic event in my life; one that changed everything. And one that continues to change things; always for the better, but not so at first. In that description of the events that happened, in August 2017, there was a notable situation. An issue, as it were, around mental health.
That issue still persists to this day.
That issue is changing me. It’s changing my world. And it’s changing things in ways even I could never have imagined possible. Had you asked me, seven years ago, how I would feel regarding some of the events that have happened in the intervening years. I would have laughed at you.
Today, I can describe how I feel. But the range of emotions I need to describe what I feel, needs an entire post of its own. And it’s not time to write that, yet.
Rest assured that is coming.
But what am I talking about? That’s the easy part. I can do that in one word. The word? Triggers. I’m talking about triggers. Events or situations, that have profound effects on your mental state, in that one moment. Yet leave a legacy of lessons to be learnt and conversations to be had.
The obvious example, is a gun going off in your hand and shooting someone straight through the heart. Killing them instantly. Did you mean to fire that gun? Were you coerced into firing that gun? Were you angry? What was going on in your head at the time the trigger was pulled?
And then there’s the event itself. The bullet went straight through someone’s heart. They died. You took a life. In that one moment, you changed several people’s worlds. Not least of all, ending the world of the victim who received the bullet. In that moment, everything changed.
The aftermath. What happened next. What did you do? Did you panic? Were you calm? Did you run – the fight or flight response. Adrenaline and Cortisol. Other people around you, were there any? What did they do? How did they respond?
And the strangest question of all. Were you happy? Or sad? Or angry? Or relieved?
That description above, is catastrophic change. Things will never be the same again, after that. And no matter how hard you try and control the outcome. At some point in the future, you must answer the call. You will have to answer for what you did. And if there’s a price to be paid. You will pay it.
That happened to me in August 2017. And I answered the call. I dealt with it the only way I know how. Head on. The changes have been complete. Nothing is the same. I now have a new birth certificate that states I am Female. I have a gender recognition certificate – Legal recognition of my new gender, and life. I no longer have a penis, dangling between my legs. I am a woman. And I am proud of that.
I haven’t seen my son in six years, but knows me. And he knows I am a woman now. I can’t call myself Female, I wasn’t born with a Uterus and I don’t believe I have XX chromosomes. But I am not a man. That description of me lies firmly in the past.
So what happened? Well I can’t talk about the details. That’s not fair on those involved. But what I can say is, I went through a catastrophic breakdown and I thought I was done with those. There was a trigger. There were events that I couldn’t fully handle that led up to that trigger. And there was a catastrophe, when the trigger was pulled. This time, however, I can salvage the situation; by owning it. Which I am doing. And I will do what needs to be done to resolve it. Just like last time, nothing is off the table. If it needs changing, it will be changed. No matter what the outcome will be.
Thankfully, I think my life will remain intact. But people around me are already seeing me in a very different light. And they’re worried. They don’t know what’s going to happen. And they are putting measures in place to prevent a similar situation reoccurring in the future.
Which they have a right to do, and they should. I don’t want this to happen again, either.
With that, it’s time for me to talk to a professional. For the first time in six and a half years. I’ve done all of this, everything you’ve read over the last six years, without professional help. The medical professions have had minimal contact with me throughout my, now complete, transition. They’ve done what needed to be done, and little else. That was my choice. I wanted to own this, and I did. And nothing was going to stop me.
But the new world I now find myself in, is very different from the previous one. And the rules regarding what is and isn’t appropriate, for someone living this life, are very different too. But I have been accepted in that world. And, thankfully, with few questions, I fit in.
I am proud to know those who have accepted me, in this world. And grateful for their support. It hasn’t been easy for them to support me, and there have been troubles. And I am sorry to have brought those troubles upon them. It has never been my intention to cause harm, to anyone. But that damned trigger just won’t go away…
Meet the new me. You wouldn’t believe that who you’re looking at, is still the same person from seven years ago. And yet, I haven’t changed that much, mentally. Transition hasn’t changed me as a person, it’s just allowed me to grow into a new skin. It’s allowed me to become the best version of me that I have ever been.
But going forward, I think it’s about to. I think it’s about time it did. I think those changes HAVE to happen. And I don’t think those changes should be catastrophic. Yet they almost were. It’s called a trigger. I’m fed up of pulling it.
Things are going to be very different from now on. They have to be. Because I can’t pull that trigger again. I can’t go through that again. I’m done with it. But thankfully, I know what it is now. I know what causes me to pick up that gun and fire it into the air, shocking everyone around me. Although I have to learn that it’s not appropriate to pick up that gun, except in certain circumstances. That’s a good place to start …
Much Love,
Vikki x
FeelingTrans 