Another phone call, another week

Game of Thrones and Seb

I don’t think frustration is the word anymore, I think it’s just a blank resignation. The move date for the flat has been pushed back a week later. It’s out of my control so I’m here with my life hovering, on hold, itching to get my feet back on the ground and running again.

My room is a mess of semi-packed items. The garage is full of recently brought furniture ( no room for boxing any more!). My mind is half imagining flat life, and half in the reality of family home living. Volunteering progress has been suspended until I am “settled”. It’s just empty space with no set end, just vague potential dates.

Living at home has been 80% OK recently, things have been pretty stable. The only rift that has opened up is my parents now being willing to get rid of our 15-year-old cat (he has been a part of the family since he was a kitten, and I was 10!) to find a nice place to live. The search for them is continuing, and they believe it to be easier to cancel out the cat. It hurts loads and seems like a cheap, short-term quick fix to a problem without thought of the long-term. But I’m trying to be all “adult” about it.

It’s another thing that is out of my control. All these things that I have no control over make me desperate to be able to have some. To not feel so at mercy to other people’s decisions and thought processes. Maybe this is where passion to change comes from? Am I finally getting a grasp on what I want?

Whilst this is all going on I am trying to mentally prepare for a GIC appointment (coming very soon), and also try to have all the papers I need in place to bring with me. As time goes on I get stronger in my belief that this is the right path for me, which is great because it’s going to make it easier to justify my needs for testosterone ASAP to the Doctor! The side effect of this is having urges to “evil-eye” anyone who misgenders you.

P.S. What do you think? Spitting image with me and Kit Harington? :-p

 

 

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