Wardrobes have doors

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    Hi.

    I'm post purge, pre-shop. Tick-tock, tick-tock.

    During an intensive period of gender anxiety in September of last year I found the courage - or lost the battle, and contacted a Therapist with the intention to commence a conversation. Having never participated in therapy previously I couched my language with words like conversation instead of therapy, and resultantly the person I contacted felt she was unable to help me. That indeed, 'It might be dangerous for me'. So I looked up Harley Street clinicians who would provide pricely qualification and get me out of my shell, but then of course I didn't book.

    I know what I am. I don't think I need inflated rate qualifications to tell me the truth, but I do need guidance and listening patient ears, and probably a shoulder to cry upon. I need a moment to scream and release everything inside. I want to feel what it is like to let it out, to relinquish this f**cked up os-so British conservative reserve and experience a pulse, and in a heartbeat to feel an essential nourishment that is unequivocal, entirely necessary, absolutely natural.

    I'm post purge, pre-shop. Tick-tock, tick-tock.

    So I am lying awake and lying asleep. I am dreaming of reincarnation, and daydreaming of a facsimile, of how I will walk, talk and present and of the clothes that I will wear as I start again. I glance at fashion pages of web-sites of wonder, and stores that sell beauty or at least an illusion. I am growing my hair but do not dare and so also I am researching new wigs and wondering about the discretion of packaging. Purchasing hair-pieces for 'Fancy dress parties or invites to Hen-Nights' are lame previous excuses, so perhaps I'll just march in, stay upright and ask, 'Inverted Bob. Blonde. For a joke bloke'.

    Rubbish Bins are expensive I am now thinking..

    I'm post purge, pre-shop. Tick-tock, tick-tock.

    What I need to do - as I scan the family diaries, is to arrange an opportunity to take the dressing up and away. To move from the nocturnal internal catwalk between bathroom and bedroom and open the door. I need to go out, to be with, to talk to and engage with. Any takers? Anybody happy to receive a dishevelled friendly person in drab, with time on their hands whilst she tinkers and nervously gets herself ready? Anybody happy to clutch a bag that has never been opened, and hold her steady as she  reels from the enormity of walking in heels further than a corridor whilst challenged by environmental challenges such as wind, steps and staring eyes? Anybody happy to turn a blind ear to quavering octaves of little rehearsed pronunication, of puppetry body language and comical impersonation. Anybody up for a night with a person that's spent 46 years being another person?

    I'm post purge, pre-shop. Tick-tock, tick-tock.

    I've got dates lined up for the above, real ones. I know when I could do this, I'm even thinking of giving up alcohol, tuning my diet drinking more water in advance so that my skin is clearer. I'm looking at shoes (tricky the transition between boots and sandles) and I'm releasing that I've lost touch with whatever current fashion might currently be. I've got shortlists of who I would contact and even people here that I think might want to support my wandering that weekend. I actually (irrespective of what you have just read) think this will be fun, sweet, lovely and enlightening.

    I'm post purge, pre-shop. Tick-tock, tick-tock.

    There's a lot to do know. I need a plan, I need a list, I need support.

    I'm really, really sorry that I visit here often but invariably very fleetingly. I do not have the time with a hectic professional life for my family at present, let alone with my familiar self. If you see me pop up and then never contribute, I'm sorry. I'm not a voyeur watching you, the visits here are actually Gender Society watching over me. And I'm OK, thanks.

    I'm post purge, pre-shop. Tick-tock, tick-tock.

    I like writing. I like writing as Rachel and I wonder whether I have a book in me. My non-de-plume is of course my real name, but that's revealed in a chapter than nobody has read yet.

    I'm post purge, pre-shop. Tick-tock, tick-tock.

    Time's up.

    Rachel x

     

     

3 comments
  • Traci Lee O'Gara Rachel...that was a brilliant piece of writing and it really painted a very clear picture of your struggles and also ones that so many others in here share! I am glad you took the time to share your feelings with us because, as you have stated, been in...  more
  • robin w I can't add much to what Traci said with tears in my eyes, but ANYTHING we can do...
  • Donna V Hi Rachel, you are not alone, yes tick tock - I felt the pain , being in a mechanical machine ,but no time for you .When it seems you are a cog part of so many other peoples lives, allowing them to have their time.Yes Tick tock like a watch and cycling...  more