A new year. Most people imagine a whole new reinvented version of themselves. Not me. I’m interested in furthering what I’ve already started. A clean slate isn’t what I’m looking for, instead, I want to mark and scratch mine. Each new year in another year I get to be the real me, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that. There are a few goals I do have for this year that I want to outline with this post and hopefully I will manage them (who actually keeps their new year’s resolutions?)

– To try and stick to a fitness routine.

– Hopefully have top surgery this year.

– Stop worrying about other people’s opinion’s of me.

It’s not a lot that I want to change, like I said, I’m more interested in developing myself than any sort of fresh start. I think it’s important to remember that we’re not all bad, even when we feel the need for a clean slate.


I Don’t Have Anything To Say

I’ve sat at my computer to type a few words only to delete them almost as quickly as they appeared. I’m suprised that these words have made it.

The problem is, I’m stuck in this constant rut of, I want to write something that means something. You hear a song, you read something, you watch something – and somehow, it connects with you, it makes you feel something that you haven’t felt in a long time, or maybe even, that you’ve never felt before.

Artists, photographers, musicians, writers; they have a way of capturing something in a moment, that means something, maybe to everyone, maybe to one person. When people can’t find the words themselves for a hard time, or a happy time – they look to others, to inspiration, to the movie, song or book that made them feel something; that gave them a tingle somewhere that almost made them consider if the soul was truly real.

I like to be inspired, by all these different forms that I’ve mentioned. Which is why I want to be able to create that same affect, for someone. I have come to the realisation that maybe I just don’t have anything left to say, for this blog at least. In the beginning, my hands moved faster than my thoughts, to record my journey, my transition. Now, when something happens, I find that I have to drag myself to my computer so I can record the next step.

Reading back, the main topic this blog covered was my transition, I guess that’s what it was for. A safe space for me to express what I was thinking or feeling, but everything has a filter, there’s nowhere I can write that I can be one hundred percent honest. Maybe that’s why we look to others, why we repeat the same song that has lyrics which reflects things we are too afraid to say.

I said somewhere that being transgender wasn’t the most interesting thing about me, and I think now that I’m more comfortable with myself and I’ve moved forward with my physical transition that I can focus on what else I’m about. So for now, I will stop writing here. I didn’t have a massive following, but I’m greatful people, even if it was just one person, did read what I had to say. In a time where I felt that no one really understood, there were people who did, and that was invaluable to me at a very difficult time in my life.

Thank you for being my safe space.

Dear Mr President

You’ve done it again, tweeted your worst and caused uncertainty and fear in thousands of individuals across America. Did you stop to think before you pressed the enter button on your phone? Did you think of the soldiers that had been shot at, in your name Mr President? I would take a gamble and say that every single transgender soldier would still take a bullet for you, for America, because they have honour and integrity, something you might take a lesson in.

I’m not an American, or a soldier; you might label me transgender – but if there is one thing I am, if there is one thing that all of those soldiers are; is human, and they should be treated as such, not as second class citizens.

“Tremendous medical costs and disruption that transgender in the military would entail”

There have been various arguments against your reasonings for this decision, comparison to prices of prescription viagara etc. There is just one point that I have to make. These men and women who you would see out of the military, thrown from their livelihood, deserve more than this. If their presence in the military costs ‘tax payers dollars’ then those taxes should continue to be paid – these people are dedicating their lives to the protection of their country, a job that doesn’t come with a comfortable pay check like yours.

For once in your presedential recendency you might take in upon yourself to be a human being.


Over the last three years, I’ve tried to ‘get fit’ – I had a burst of loving running for a month or so, 4km every day on the treadmill, I tried lifting small weights in my flat at University (3.5kg max). Every time, I’d say I’ve ran out of inspiration, or I’ve just given up. Sometimes, I would try and exercise and I would just cry, because in the back of my head there was the constant voice telling me that working out was never going to make a difference if I wasn’t on testosterone. I listened to that voice too often, and I would always give up. Even though working out made me feel physically and most importantly, mentally more stable, I let the troubles I was having take over something that was really good for me.

I told myself that when I came home for the summer, I would join the gym, I put it off for two or three weeks, but eventually I joined two friends of mine and we all went together. Since then I’ve been going three to four times a week, and even though I’m only on my third week, it feels different this time – it feels bloody damn good.

Although I pushed myself to go before I had my first T shot, having that injection, at last, has put my mind at ease in a way I can’t explain with words. Without sounding totally stereotypical, I do feel as if a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. Now when I go to the gym, and I work out, all I feel is excitement for the changes to come, and determination to better myself.

That’s what I’ve learned the most from going to the gym this summer – it isn’t about how much you can lift, how far you can run; it’s about bettering yourself. The gym allows me to feel better within myself both physically and mentally – I feel stronger as a person, and that is a feeling I’ve sought after for almost three years. 


I wish I could hold her in my arms, nothing in the world being able to touch us. Not me feeling like I am constantly lacking something because of my body.
The horrible feeling I get in my stomach which I try so hard to ignore, would just float away.
My family, what’s left of it, not constantly pounding against my skull, thudding, so I can’t hear anything else.
I wish that my only worry was feminist theory and getting to work on time.
That I didn’t have to hide myself in the bathroom when I cry sometimes because I’m ashamed.
That when I showered with my girlfriend, the only thing I can think of is getting lucky.
Instead of how petrified I am to look down at myself, let alone her look at me.
Because no matter how many times I trick myself into confidence. I hate myself.
I wish that I could just be worried about eating too much food this Christmas.
Not about having toilet accidents when I try to pee standing up.
Or the fact I can’t wear my favourite clothes because people will know.
I wish I wasn’t in bed right now thinking about how I’ve failed to piece my family back together.
When I should be worried about running out of sellotape, to wrap presents.
I wish that I didn’t have to worry about my mum being mentally stable, about my brother, who’s now my sister, taking unprescribed hormones, and I wish I could forget the things that she said to me. About how I can’t handle being a man. I wish that my dad knew that since my mum threw him out, she’s never been the same, I wish he knew how happy I am that he’s got a family.
Because I feel like I haven’t got much of one left.
I wish I had a childhood.
I haven’t got much of myself left.

An Urge To Say Goodbye

Since being at university, living independently, trying to work hard, I haven’t had much time to post on here. In some ways, I’m glad, there was a point in my life when I had to write on here just to be able to get through the day. Now I look back at that point, and I can see how far I’ve come. It makes me proud, to think that I got here, as Nathan, as me. 

I’ve reached my short term goal, to become myself, to get to university, I suppose that’s why there is an urge to leave this blog behind, to move onto something different. But I know that sometimes I will need to come back here and write, I know that where there is an urge to leave, there is also one to stay. This blog will never be deleted because I know in a few years, maybe when I have surgery or when testosterone has taken effect, that I will want to look back on these posts to see how far I’ve come, I already feel like I’ve taken some giant steps.

After Kai (a fellow blogger) took a step down from his blog, it inspired me to do the same. But I like to think myself a writer and I haven’t quite got the heart to let this go. I had a scare earlier that my flatmates would find this blog, I’m keeping the fact that I am transgender private, it wasn’t too long ago I didn’t even like saying the word out loud. I thought about deleting it for that reason, but I don’t regret anything I have written here, so I will keep it where it is, if they find it (which although I hope doesn’t happen) then I will deal with that. Although I often hide this part of myself from people, I won’t let myself be ashamed of it, because for a long time I was, a part of me still is on harder days, but I know that isn’t healthy. I know that isn’t fair on me, or other transgender people.

I’m here to stay.

The Blank Page I Need

It seems like a lifetime ago I was trying to calm down my nervous girlfriend as we headed off to collect our A Level results. Turns out there was nothing to worry about, miraculously, despite transitioning mid A Levels, I managed to achieve AAA in English, Media Studies and Religious Studies. I don’t know how I did it, all I know is, without Tamara, I would never have gotten this far. She’s encouraged me at every difficult moment, pointed out how I can be better, helped me achieve everything that I have achieved, both in my education and my transition.

Although during every day life, I feel as if I haven’t progressed much, looking back, at myself, my grades and my relationship, I realise now that I have taken giant leaps, crucial to becoming the man I was always supposed to be. I guess I’m afraid now, because my future is well within my reach, only six more weeks and Tamara and I will be moving to Southampton, but I’m scared something will get in the way. Something always tries to.

We’re arguing more lately, and that scares me, because she is everything that I have ever wanted, all I want is for her to be happy, and I would do anything to give her happiness. I want to fill her up, because I know she completes me, we’re a pair and I can’t imagine anything without her.

My transition has been hard on our relationship, I know that, it’s not something that many couples have to go through. On top of that, general relationship issues, trying to complete our A Levels, and family drama. Tamara is my miracle, I feel so lucky to have her in my life, and be a part of hers.

We’re almost at the 18 month mark, some people think that this might be early days, but I know every time I look at her, whether she’s smiling, laughing or crying, that I want to spend every good moment and every bad moment with her.

University might be a blank page, but there are still two main characters. Tamara and Nathan. I just can’t wait to write the next chapter.