Waiting

waitingI’ve realised that I’m waiting. Waiting for medical transition to start, waiting to leave Belfast, waiting for life to start. I used to be terrible at waiting. Now it seems that I’ve become an expert. The issue with waiting, is that once the waiting is over, what am I left with? My life has become consumed by my transition, but once that’s over, what then?

Both a friend and my mum have brought home to me that if I don’t start living my life now, I’ll be left with nothing when I’m finally ready to move on. I have accepted that I will have to remain in Belfast until I no longer need access to the gender identity clinic (GIC) – basically after I’ve had top surgery, been prescribed hormones and had some form of gynaecological procedure to stop my periods (probably endometrial ablation). But accepting this fact has made me lazy. Rather than looking towards the future, I’m stuck in the process of transition only looking as far as my next appointment, my top surgery, my hormone referral. Nothing seems to exist outside of my steps towards various forms of medical transition.

I used to be a traveller and an adventurer. Now I’m anxious about travelling because my passport doesn’t match my chosen name or gender. My sense of adventure has shrank to making it down to the local market for fruit and veg on the weekend. I needed to contract my world in order to help myself heal, but I seem to be struggling to expand it again.

I know I’m doing a lot of the right stuff. I’m involved with a local queer performance group called The Queerlings, I’m helping with various events at the Outburst Queer Arts Festival in Belfast this year, and I’m working on some performance art. My aim is to get onto a masters course in queer theory and performance art – to marry my life with my passions. I just have to remember to keep this goal in mind and not to lose sight of it in the chaos of transitioning.

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