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Where i'm coming from.....

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  • Every person has a different story…..

    Mine has been endless change, trying to arrive so I give you a story that began in 1967...

    Waiting for nirvana.

    I was born in St marys hospital, Portsmouth uk. Oh the year was 1967. Born of a Navy man and his wife of the time (but more of that later.)

    Within a short time, when still a baby, the family was posted to Singapore.
    My mothers parents apparently saw us off at the airport – the last time they would see me for a good few years.
    There is a story around that my mother met mick jagger before we went at some point and that I’d been held in micks arms.
    But anyway late sixties, off to Singapore we went.
    Don’t Remember the flight there.
    A slideshow now: Singapore was visual. My main memory is of the place called the TIGER BALM GARDENS, and I seem to remember china tigers in the bushes, you now life sized replicas… they fascinated me.
    The colours, the monsoon type rain, the tadpoles in the puddles, our dogs that we had taken over, the monkeys who played in the garden, the boa constrictor who lived in the tea chest at the bottom of the garden. Quite a rich set of images. And the calm before the storm.

    At about 4 and three quarters I remember the flight home. I remember being made to perform for the entertainment of my parents… being blonde as a boy I looked quite effeminate and had a sort of androgenous look about me, they wanted me to stand holding a cigarette and a gin and tonic and sing some tune or other…
    I used to make them laugh with my antics all by myself in Singapore – having imaginary chats with the animals, and constantly asking why this why that, and loads of stuff – but I remember laughter and enjoying the dressing up in various costumes, and even a sari once – at my suggestion.

    Well, forgive me for the vagaries, there is a lot more, but lets move on to a little bit further.

    Dad was still in the navy, so me and mum lived a pretty happy co-existence in a place called gosport. Dad visiting when he wasn’t on the submarines. Naïve I couldn’t see what was to happen yet.

    Visions come and go don’t they? In gosport for some reason dad was home, and I remember walking into the kitchen and waves of horror washing over me. Dad was kicking mum, and she was on the floor crying. The only words I remember from there are “get up you stupid woman”. Even then I hated violence. I was five and a bit years old.
    Dad tried to do his best but didn’t achieve the make his lad a Man thing. He took me swimming – which I still love, but I digress.

    Dad mustve left the Navy cos in no time we had moved north, to a port on the coast in Northumberland, where for the first time in years (first time ever in my knowledge) I met grandma and granddad from my dads side.
    I used to play in the farmers fields, with Cathy my cousin, as she lived at the top of the hill.
    Oh and Peter and Carol too. And Peter – a fond memory of the back garden episode where we shelled and ate raw peas, and mum gave us a cup of tea each not knowing what we’d done. Then hey presto Both of us had a bad stomach episode!

    Mum had a job in MacFisheries, and she used to get promotional stuff about the space program stuff, and used to bring stuff home for me. I remember the space helmet… I used to wear it “to make me look different” – oh and I had asked her for a doll. And she bought me one too.
    Enter the dragon – Dad. Dad at every opportunity had to seek confirmation that his lad was a good un, by picking on me to the extent that any femininity I expressed was seen as failure…

    Go I gave being a “true boy” a go, to avoid the fire… the smacks were way over the top, and the reasons were very diverse too.

    Moving on, I remember at the age of barely 6 in the kitchen, with my mum, managing to complete an airfix model of a plane. And dad wasn’t there. She was over the moon that id done it without dads overbearing assistance..

    I remember that house. I was in bed, and shouting occurred. So I sat on the stairs listening, only in anguish and passion for my mum, I stood up and was going to go into the living room shouting “stop” or something like that. But I stood too soon, stumbled and knocked a plant pot from a ledge……..dorr opens, strides out da, over the knee slippering for “not being in bed” mmmmm extreme…. Well it seemed so to me.

    Interlude: Mum and dad break up. Details of which will remain my own private property. There have been many interpretations I have put on those events, that all probably wont make sense to an outsider.

    I am transported south, with a pseudo explanation from my dad about what we were going into next.

    This was September 1973.

    On the journey, I got shown Stevenson’s locomotive at Darlington

    I remember the train – regardless of the aggressive nature – this was dad, and dad’s knew best, didn’t they? I was in his spell.

    The road continued of my life through junior school,where Claire and Debbie seemed to be good friends as was Sheryl. Not forgetting dave and steve and colin. But I really shared my time big style. The greatest intellectual stuff was with Claire and Debbie.
    The inventive stuff was with colin.
    The macho stuff was with Dave and steve.
    I should include more people but hey, you know.

    Extreme punishments whilst at junior school……..
    Extended periods where I had to write out the ten commandments – even though dad was non religious.
    Curfews many times over where I was in my room straight after tea.
    (advantage – no dad watching, allowing the girl inside to think- disadvantage…. Distancing from peers)
    Slaps bruises and so on too.

    Senior school. Dad put me down at every opportunity.
    Many episodes of secret dressing. Once caught by my step sister. (she said nothing, i said it was for practice as i was "in a play" at school)
    And blah blah blah…

    We arrive at a moment I remember well. Janet at school decides “dress me up” at her house. ( I had tried dressing myself many times before – in the bathroom with the shower switched on raiding the laundry basket – hey don’t you know that feeling eh?)

    I nearly fell down the stairs though in her shoes!

    The rest I leave to you…. On and off dressing, purging, accepting, not accepting.

    Hiding clothes even when I lived at home. Etc.

    That was till the end of school. And the adult part of my life……… well maybe I give you all that another time.


    BUT I know who I am, and who I should be. If I ever get there YOU WILL KNOW.

    The fear is within for being “condemned” I must fight that demon.
    I wish everyone a smoother passage to where they wanna be – I still fighting to get to where I can start to be who I am inside.
    Details have been omittited to preserve the general theme. And certain details would only embellish unnecessarily the things I have highlighted.

    Thankyou for your Valuable time in reading this.

    And my other posts are there for all to see........

    MWAH
    JULIE
    patience is a virtue, or is it simply a card game, and whos the dealer?
      July 24, 2003 6:57 PM BST
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  • Thanks for giving us a peek.
      July 25, 2003 5:27 AM BST
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  • 90

    Thanks Julie- what a nice easy narrative style you have.

    I for one would be very interested to know how Life is treating you at present and how you are coping.

    Welcome Home Hugs
    Annie
      July 25, 2003 8:51 AM BST
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  • there are many tribulations since that period of life ended. a continued dissatisfation with thwe man bit of me.........
    Got used as a young person as i am considered by others as attractive. The gay scene saw more of me than anyother part of life.

    Now the tempestuous and erratic party party party side has slowed to a virtual stop.
    And i find i am requestioning who the hell i am.

    I know theres more female in me than man, and yet there are no resources available on my part to sort any issues out.

    And frustration builds on frustration.

    The job side of life. since 1990 at least has been relatively consistent - a lot of hard work for no progress forward. My own business for a while. And I lost the lot in 2000.... that was to be my source of necessary funds, if you know what i mean.

    After 2000 i worked at a place, who secretely underpaid me. When the director concerned left, this was exposed that introduction fees, and commissions were vastly underpaid, and that he was drawing 4k a month over his agreed monies. and underpaid a few people within the company to finance this.

    A phoenix company was born from the ruins. Then a decision was made again to my detriment that although i'd stuck by the senior people at new formation time, that my "usefullness" was no longer cost effective. ( whatever that may mean)
    And so now i cleaning windows. not for myself, but working for someone. and the pay is barely survivable.
    I havent given up.
    Just growing increasingly distant from my male identity that it is or seems necessary to maintain for survival. I live as a male. but dont identify with it. its like watching a poorly written play being enacted infront of me.
    With a flat zero progress towards a brighter future.

    Kirk Douglas once said.... I am basically unhappy unless something happens to give me a happy moment...


    And so:
    I wish i was basically happy unless something occured to temporarily change that.
    I need a miracle i'm sure.

    I feel betrayed.
    I feel lost.


    I have shared this POTTED summary, as the crass details that exist, and the mistakes, and other's "abuse" of me, and the current levels of denegration others place upon me, are boring, irrelevant to others lives, but hey, you all know what its like in some shape or form.

    This post wasnt planned. It was written from the heart.
    So my apologies if it fails to entertain or inform.

    Just needed to write it.

    (as this is yet another day where i have not got any work on.)

    (i think i should be starting back at work on monday - but who knows)

    (hummin).........When i'm cleanin windows.

    grrrrrrrrr







    patience is a virtue, or is it simply a card game, and whos the dealer?
      September 3, 2003 3:50 PM BST
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  • and so the show goes on...my equipment and tools were retained by the window cleaner.and i cant get them back.he dismissed me after i fgained 200+ more customers for the round.
    I got mugged.
    Got busted ribs.
    But 15.9.03 started a job in directory publishing ad sales...boring to some.but relatively fun and east for me.....1st day made 4 sales........more to come no doubt.

    But still. theres this unsettled feeling, this otherness, this want and unfulfilled aspect.........and solving the issue seems currently out of reach.

    I still need that miracle.........
    patience is a virtue, or is it simply a card game, and whos the dealer?
      September 15, 2003 6:38 PM BST
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