Hey followers and friends. I’ve not been posting much at all lately, I’ve had a pretty intense few months. Not all good, not all bad, probably all rather mundane but I feel compelled to get it down somewhere, so here it is.
Hey followers and friends. I've not been posting much at all lately, I've had a pretty intense few months. Not all good, not all bad, probably all rather mundane but I feel compelled to get it down somewhere, so here it is.
(scroll to bottom for transition update, intended for those going through the same experience, not for cis curiosity)
Some things I will have already mentioned, but I’ll treat this as a roundup of my year so far.
I found roller derby. I’m getting close to passing my minimum skills in spite of recent distractions interfering with practices, and it’s been really really good for me. Getting up early in the morning to strap 8 wheels to my feet and practice skills, train strength and stamina, and take a few hits (from both the floor and fellow rookies!) does surprisingly well for my mental health. I’ve got hurt a few times, but I’ve not let it discourage me. I’ve overcome hurdles, I’ve learned a lot, but the most important thing I’ve learned about is my own resilience. I am strong, and in knowing that I am stronger still. I have Roller Derby to thank for that. It’s also been really good socially, I’ve made some really awesome friends. I feel like I’m part of a community that has my best interests at heart, and sees and loves me. That is priceless.
I got a really great job in a well established speciality coffee shop / roastery in my town. They took me on a week after telling me they had no job for me, and later I learned that was because they liked me and wanted me to work for them in spite of not having a role. I was told this after being fired, 4 months into my employment there, just when I was feeling like I was doing a really good job. When I was dismissed, the reason I was given by the manager was that being half an hour late is a serious infraction, the likes of which they have a zero tolerance policy for. Thing is though, this was the first time I was late. I read the rota wrong. In fact, I thought I was half an hour early. Nobody called to find out where I was. When I got to work I clocked in as soon as I realised my mistake, and then got a text from my manager telling me to go home. He called a meeting with me a couple of days later, which turned out to be my dismissal. I got emotional and walked out, leaving my keys on the counter.
I got an email that evening from the owner/directer and the co-director, who are married, asking if I’d like to meet with them to discuss what went wrong. During this meeting I was told that my dismissal had come after weeks of discussion regarding my ‘overall performance’ (no detailed breakdown of this offered), and that my instance of inconveniencing the shop by being half an hour late, once, was a final blow in my performance that led them to the decision to let me go. I’d gone into this meeting feeling royally fucked over, and came out feeling depleted and worthless. All of my anxieties seemed to have proved true; It looked like I was simply bad at my job, and these people who were full of warmth in our interactions had secretly been waiting for a chance to cast me away. This was two weeks ago, my feelings on it still fluctuate between feeling fucked over and feeling like I’m incapable of the job I thought I suited me perfectly. I did learn a lot though, and I’ve now got experience from a popular coffee shop, which should do me well in getting a similar job should my confidence in that field return unfettered.
Alongside this drama my creative endeavours have started to bear fruit over the past few weeks. It comes as a welcome surprise, after a good few months of creative drought. It started with an email from a friend, urging me to submit work to a graduate show they’re putting on in Derby. I was dubious about how good the exhibition would be overall, but I’ve seen the space, met the other artists, and I’m excited. I picked up my prints from the framer today and they look really great. I’m hopeful I’ll sell some work, if not at this exhibition then at subsequent shows of the same prints.
I’ve also had an up-coming art cafe in my town contact me to follow up on interest I showed earlier this year in showing some work. They say they’ve got space for me in their programme, and look forward to displaying my work – I’ve got a meeting this Wednesday to discuss it.
I’ve been contacted by the university that I just completed a residency at, asking if I’d like to exhibit some work alongside the Ma show, in Wolverhampton Art gallery later this year, which will offer me some very good exposure.
Finally, I have some friends I met recently at a fledgling nonbinary social meet-up group in my town who are putting on a show at one of Birmingham’s contemporary art galleries. They’ve asked me if I want to contribute work, and I’ve gladly agreed.
As well as all this, I was contacted by the organiser and host of a spoken word/poetry night in Stratford, on a recommendation by the host of another very popular monthly spoken word event in Birmingham, which I’ve performed on the open mic of. They offered me a £200 commission to write and perform a feature set for their August event, themed around sex and gender. I was very upset to have to decline this, being on the exact same night as the opening night of the exhibition in Derby. Frustration aside, recieving the proposal, alongside all the exhibitions I have coming up, has given me a huge boost in confidence in my creative work, and I have renewed faith in my ability to make a living from it.
In light of this, I’ve decided to do a Masters in (probably) fine art (probably) a year from now. I’ve got a year to figure out where, and to prepare my portfolio. I imagine I’ll do it part time over two years, and work part time to fund myself along with student loans.
I’ve been spending a lot of time pondering my non-creative career moves from here in the mean time. I’ve decided, if I’m to reluctantly give up on coffee, a driving job would suit me very well. I imagine being a part-time long hall lorry driver, driving to the continent and back once a week to fund my life and my art career, but this is probably overly romantic and unrealistic. For now, I’m thinking of having a go at taxi / uber driving, just to dip my toes in.
Transition / mental health.
In May, after continual disappointment with the local counselling services, I was prescribed fluoxetine by my GP, 20mg once a day, which was upped to 40mg a month later. It’s been helping a bit, but I’ve still been having a hard time, especially with the recent unpredictably changing tides of life. I’ve started feeling even more tired than I usually do, often crashing and having to take naps. I’m not sure if it’s a mental health thing, if it’s to do with my medication or HRT, or if it’s something physiological aside from all that, but it’s definitely not helping with depression. Anxiety continues to plague my self esteem, making me constantly second guess myself and my abilities, and leading me to give up on myself frequently. I’m trying to be more proactive, to put things in place to make my life better, but I’m struggling. I’m considering seeking private psychiatric help, as I still think I’ve got much to learn about my mind. I often feel very isolated and misunderstood, and am conversely very confused by the behaviour of others. I continue to wonder if some kind neurodivergence is the cause of this confusion and other inter-relational struggles I experience.
Also in May, just a few days before my birthday, I was given an injection of decapeptyl after my new gender clinic doctor observed a somewhat high level of testosterone in my most recent blood tests. Since this, I’ve seen a dramatically accelerated change in the overall shape of my body, face, and my feelings towards my gender; all in positive ways. I’ve become far more comfortable in my mind, body and appearance on the whole. There is still some dysphoria around localised areas of my body which swells up in short periods of intense grief (eased, somewhat, by the knowledge of upcoming treatments), and I do still get misgendered about an equal amount of times to being gendered correctly, but I’m starting to care less about it. Where previously I would either plan multiple stay-home recovery days a week or shave on consecutive days if I did have to go out, (giving me bad rashes and much grief) I’ve started shaving once every two days, even when going out on consecutive days. Laser has helped to reduce the amount of facial hair, but there’s still enough that I get misgendered if it grows out a little too much. I may get more sessions in the future, but for now I’m enjoying letting sunlight touch my face. One thing I’m really happy about, something I’ve hoped I’d be able to do since the very beginning of my transition, is that I’ve not felt so much need to wear foundation recently. In fact, I haven’t worn it for a good few weeks, maybe a couple of months. I’ve started exploring my genderqueerness more in my style expression, and feel more or less comfortable embracing ambiguity. At risk of sounding like I’m contradicting myself, I do wish I would stop getting misgendered. It doesn’t knock my confidence quite so much as it used to (in the knowledge that my own knowledge of my identity is worth more than what anyone else thinks) but it still makes me feel very frustrated, misunderstood, and unseen.
so, there’s good and bad. I’m going through tough times, and I am tired. But I am strong, and underneath it all, I am capable. Watch me flourish in the hopefully-not-too-distant future.
I was at bentfest, a diy queer punk festival yesterday with my friend (gay, white, cis male, middle class, 24) and he started complaining at one point about how much he overheard people talking about how shit men are. He was kinda angry about it and I just felt like... bonking him on the head. He kept misgendering people and being slightly off in various ways (e.g. ridiculing people's names) And he was also saying about how he didn't agree with the name, bentfest, because it would deter people. And I think loads of things about all that and I'm kinda angry but I can't argue with him
My brother took this picture of me and it’s excellent but I’m just…. so unhappy about my body. I dislike my shape so much, I wish I didn’t feel like this — no reblogs
