Today’s the day

Or is it? Oh I don’t know. My mum is coming for dinner tonight, as I mentioned the other day she will want to know what I’ve been doing all week. She always asks me what I’ve been up to anyway, and since I said I was too busy to have her to dinner this week no doubt she will be even more curious. Sometimes I wonder if she suspects there is something I am not telling her, I often find myself being evasive. But if she does suspect something, I’m sure it won’t be this. In a way I would have liked to have had her round to dinner while Pippa was here, open the door fully dressed and introduce her to my bestest girlfriend. But not fair on either of them, especially mum. It would be an easy way of telling her, but not the right way. My difficulty is really finding the exact words to use. The fully dressed approach would be a visual clue, would it not…?

But no, I need to actually string a few sentences together, and work out in my head beforehand what they are going to be. Still not sure, but one or two things to choose from now. I had another email from Cerys yesterday on the subject, and so did my mum actually, though it’s up to me to deliver it to her if and when the time is right. Having explained to Cerys how I expected my mother to go into worry mode, despite anything I could say to avert it, she came up with the idea of writing a letter from herself to Lucy’s mum, by way of reassurance. I was touched at such a thought; I can’t ask for better friends than that, and having read it and wept (that’s a good thing by the way) I feel sure it really will help her to understand that what I am telling her is not actually a bad thing, and that she should be happy for me, if not a little proud. Cerys, I’ve thanked you privately, and given you a credit in a previous blog, but I must say in public, your words to my mother and myself are well considered, very moving, and truly wonderful. Your support and friendship in recent months has been unconditional, and quite staggering. And all you got out of it was a chicken curry. Your kindness and compassion continue to touch me deeply in a way that I am simply not used to. I thank you with all my heart for everything, and am proud to be your friend. NOW can I come to dinner?!

It may be that the moment just is not right, or maybe that’s a euphemism for me bottling it, but one thing’s for sure, even before she arrives I am going to be a nervous wreck, so the sooner I get it over with the better. This sort of stress is really not good for a girl, and this is the sort of thing that I find very difficult and turns me into jelly. I’ve been on stage in front of 10,000 people (hey I’ve done gigs to only 5 people too, and 2 of them were bar staff), that I can handle, no problem, piece of cake. This? Oh bugger. Buggering hell, in fact.

I know she won’t disown me, I know her that well at least, though I don’t really know how much she knows on the subject of transgenderism. It could be a steep learning curve. In at the deep end. What are the alternatives? It’s more than likely that one day she would find out anyway, and I’d rather choose to tell her than have to. I can carry on trying to hide it from her, and if I succeeded she would go to her grave never having known me, not properly, and never realising that she had a daughter who loved life. Why should I want to hide that from her? It’s rhetorical, I bet you can all think of lots of reasons, but the simple truth is I don’t, I just want her to know me and love me for who I am.

Mum, maybe one day you will read this and all my other blogs and see what has always been inside me, and see the things that really matter to me, including yourself. I’m sorry I swore, and mentioned sex, and oh god what else have I said? I do go on don’t I… I’ve been holding things back from you, things I’ve been aware of since I was 4, and I just want us to be as close as we possibly can be, because I love you.

The drinks are chilled; tonight we may both need one.