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All posts for the month January, 2015

Letters From The Edge of Blogspace: A ‘Moving’ Story….

Published January 26, 2015 by Christine

I was planning to start posting more frequently but, as always, something gets in the way. This time its homelessness. Due certain serious structural defects in the building, Tracey and I have had to move out of our flats. The local council have placed a prohibition order on the building which came into effect last Monday (19th Jan), meaning we can  no longer live there. Unfortunately, neither of us have family local who can house us for an indefinite period and the landlord was either unable or unwilling to help. He did, though, give us notice to quit prior to the council prohibition. This meant that we could approach the council who placed us on the waiting list, along with being given temporary housing. Well, Tracey was. I wasn’t. Due to me being under 60, able-bodied, in relatively good health and being employed, I was not classed as a vulnerable person and so didn’t qualify for temporary accommodation. Fortunately, I’m sofa-surfing with a friend. The good news is that I have been accepted for a council place which I should  be able to move into sometime in the next two weeks.

So, we are both warm, dry, fed and comfortable. Our furniture and other belongings are in storage and I am able to easily get to work every day. We are better off than  many people and for that, we are both grateful.

It’s still a pain in the backside though.

Letters From The Edge of Blogspace: Tunnels

Published January 7, 2015 by Christine

It’s sometimes, frequently weird, to sit here, surrounded by friends, ones wife, even one’s canine companion, and feel exclusively alone. To know that the only person who knows what is really happening is inside your own head. Its a unique feeling. I wonder if I should feel honoured by it. That I can sit here, feeling such despair, such lonliness and yet be surrounded by people who Iove and who love me. Its peculiar to think that the very thing I, we, are going through is the very thing that is supposed to stop the way I’m feeling now. It doesn’t though. It’s just part of it. Its the tunnel we have to travel through, with storms at one end and sunlight at the other. There are storms in the tunnel though. I’m going through one.

The storms don’t last though. Their frequency varies, as does their intensity but they don’t last. The trouble is, they hurt. They can hurt badly, and it can take a long time to recover from a storm. The trouble is explaining the damage these storms do, both physically and mentally. As I write this, I’m coming out of one now and I’m still hurting. I’m listening to music and it’s slowly bringing me home. To be honest its horrifying, annoying and fascinating all at the same time. The way that the mind works. Its also incredibly scary. The feelings it can induce.

The deepest, darkest parts of the depression are caused by being transsexual. The rest? Depression caused by knowing that, despite everything I do, I will never be what I should have been.

What brings me out of the depression? Being the best I can be and knowing that as long as I have done what I can to the best of my ability, as long as I have not bowed to the storm. I am happy.

Although, the tunnel is still there.

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