I have considered many many times whether to write my full autobiography. The writing isn’t a problem, remembering the content isn’t a problem but given that the Official Secrets Act would make a repeated appearance, perhaps some aspects of my life are best ignored for now?
As a child you don’t have an appreciation of the wider world, of concepts, of relationships – beyond your own nuclear family, close friends and school. So I have had to extrapolate backwards in some respects. If I claimed that I knew all the following early years things about myself, and could fully rationalise them at age 8 (or whatever) then you may disbelieve? Some things, however are full memories – it’s the interpretation that has happened subsequently.
So, one of my earliest memory is being dressed up for my aunt and uncle’s wedding. I was around 4 years old, so 1969 or 70.
My grandfather had served in WWII in the Black Watch, hence the kilt, except I was (much) later told that it was a skirt. I rediscovered this photo around 7 or 8 years old and, with a biro, did my best to damage every print I could find. My recollection is that I had enjoyed the experience but didn’t want anyone to know – I was ashamed.
Around six years old I took part in a school play and the part required me to wear tights, which my brother and I didn’t possess. Our neighbours, however, had 2 girls whose ages matched ours. I borrowed tights from the older girl and this led to regularly exploring her dress-up box, which only had female clothing.
By the time I reached the end of primary school in 1977 I was tall, bright (I had passed the 11+ and had a high IQ) plus I had been the Headteacher’s ‘pet’ and milk monitor. I knew I would be cannon fodder at the local secondary school. I was also, it now seems, gender confused. I had no way to resolve this confusion.
I won a place at the regional grammar school and that meant riding the school bus daily. Three schools used that bus: the boys’ grammar, the girls high school and a mixed religious school. I felt I was safest with the high school girls as there weren’t many from my new school who used the bus. I sat near the girls but didn’t interact with them for ages … I used the bus to do my homework, including French & Latin.
Eventually I was invited into a few conversations with the girls and I learned plenty. That group of girls were 11 years old, same as myself, so we grew older together. I’m still in contact with one of those girls – I turn 60 in 2025 but shouldn’t say how old she is!
For English Literature O Level (1982) I chose a reading list of Orwell 1984, Huxley Brave New World, Bradbury Fahrenheit 451 and Solzhenitsyn One Day in the Life of Ian Denisovich. I’m not sure a shrink could interpret this 16 year old’s mind from that list! I got a B, the same as English Lang, and seven more O Levels.
I spent 7 years at that school, and worked most of the holidays so I never saw any of the children who had been at primary school with me.
I didn’t get my first choice for university and, after going through ‘clearing’ I ended up in Plymouth in 1984. This was just about as far as you could travel in one day from my home town, which eliminated the risk of anyone just dropping in unexpectedly. I wanted to explore myself, now I had the freedom, but I still didn’t know who I was.
I was, however, still tall, bright, gender confused and now I wore glasses. I couldn’t get a girlfriend, although I can’t say I tried. I also didn’t have a boyfriend. It would be fair to say that I spent my three years in Plymouth as a practising asexual.
Some achievements: I gained an appreciation for real ale, qualified as a radio amateur, learned Unix, made one platonic friend for life, and was still gender confused.
I started working for the UK government in 1987 on a temporary arrangement. Whilst there I took the exam and sat the board for a permanent civil service post. The temporary job finished Christmas Eve 1987 and in January 1988 I moved out of the family home, for the second time, and relocated to Kent.
Work was intense and a steep learning curve. By the end of 1988 I had enough banked to get my first mortgage and a flat. I joined the local radio club and did my best not to socialise with those I worked with.
By 1993 I was on the internet. The World Wide Web, as we know it today, did not yet exist, nor did Google or any of the brands that are now prominent. I had discovered Usenet chat whilst in Plymouth and now found my way into a rabbit hole of stuff. I finally self diagnosed as trans. I researched how to proceed. I was around 28. I already had a small selection of feminine attire, and now expanded that. Any notion of transitioning, however, was put on hold as it would certainly affect my security clearance, without which my job was dust – no income also meant no home.
Around 1995 a friend (?) decided I needed a female in my life, I was meanwhile content on being monogamous. I was introduced to this woman, a few years younger than myself, and I went through a period of denial. Marriage followed, then 2 children (boy and girl).
We’d moved to a house by 1998. My work had expanded, sending me overseas regularly and reached a peak in 2005/2006 when I was out of the UK more than I was in it! I had become involved in a major project and the main issue was to deliver it on time. That was done but I was physically and mentally shattered by the time I took a fortnight off in Sept 2006.
Unfortunately one of my team had eyed my many hours overseas and wanted some of it. He manufactured allegations so that when I returned from leave in September I was summarily suspended from duty, pending investigation and dismissal. I booked an appointment with the Occupation Health doctor and saw him in early 2007. It seems that my health issues were more serious that I had imagined and I was seeing a neurologist a few weeks later.
As I wasn’t working, but was still being paid, I started drinking every day and was spiralling into depression. I received divorce papers in early 2008 I stayed sober for important events and this included by daughter’s 7th birthday. Unfortunately a drunk brother-in-law arrived and started throwing homophobic slurs at me. I had been backed up into the kitchen but had my phone – I called 999 and they attended quickly after I suggested I had weapons (kitchen knives) nearby. He was arrested, not for threatending me but for taking a swing at one of the coppers. Apparently that was my fault.
The next day I said “I have nothing left to lose” and I transitioned. I went to my GP who reluctantly did a referral to the local shrink, who refused to see me. I stopped drinking (mostly) and spent daytimes away from the ‘family’ home. I very quickly, however, moved out and started sofa surfing. That didn’t last long and my Spring 2008 I was on a train back to my parents’ place, although my father had already passed.
I effectively de-transitioned – although I don’t believe even my GP had recorded this fact.
In fact my divorce solicitor asked me to ‘tone down’ the feminine vibes. By 2009 I was divorced. I started writing fiction to pass the time, I wasn’t released from the civil service until 2009 so couldn’t work anywhere, if my GP agreed I could work!
In 2010 I was concerned for my children, and my now 9 year old daughter in particular. I asked her school to host a multi agency meeting, which I attended, and I took the minutes of that meeting to my solicitor so a custody application could be made.
I was awarded full custody of my daughter in August 2010, along with shared custody of my (older) son.
I went self-employed, I didn’t need anyone’s permission to do that!
In 2012 I got a new large flat for my daughter and I, with a third room for my son if he was visiting. My female wardrobe, which had been in the attic of my mother’s home, relocated to the new flat.
I also decided to get a medical referral so went to my current GP and told him I was trans. “I know.” was his answer. He did a referral and a month or so later I had my 2 hour gatekeeper interview with a shrink. The report and covering letter, which I received weeks later, recommended referral to the Gender Identity Clinic.
Then nothing. I had this plan to take HRT and to transition when the HRT had worked its magic. But, that didn’t happen. I thought I was in a queue, but in practice my referral either hadn’t been made or had been lost. But I didn’t know, and my GP didn’t follow up.
The pandemic happened and I took advantage of that. By 2022 I decided to have another go and did get on the referral list but by now it was over 5 years long. I transitioned a year later.
In 2025 I’m 3 years into the queue with, it now seems, another 3 years to go before my first appointment. My interview in 2012 isn’t any good, apparently.
I’m also 2 years into transition, and rapidly heading towards that 60th birthday. Apparently, according to others, I’m autistic. Whilst that wouldn’t surprise me, it is undiagnosed and I have no wish to add that to my existing troubles!
“What If” I had transitioned in 1993? I hadn’t detransitioned in 2008? That 2012 referral hadn’t been lost?
I can’t second guess the universe, but I would have been at least a decade younger if one of those points in time had led to a valid appointment with the GIC and probably out the other end of the process? Oh well.
Regardless, I have fully legally and socially transitioned. That isn’t going to change.