… and is ready to belly-flop into your inboxes once again.
So I’ve managed nearly six months of digital inactivity*. “Achievement” is probably not the word. It’s been a harder year than even I’d expected, and the longer I went without posting, or even reading, the harder it became. Which, I guess, is the story of my phobey life. And whenever I did have time left over which could have been spent wordspinning for your, erm, entertainment, most of that time was instead spent trying to figure out what the hell I was thinking starting a blog at the same time as a chemistry degree.
But life has not been dull. Well, it has, actually, in many respects, but I’ll be reporting some of the highlights (and lowlights) because changes have happened, and progress has been made as well as lost.
I’m aiming to do separate reports on gender things, uni things and mental health, because all three together might be a bit on the concentrated side, like trying to drink a bottle of mouthwash in one go. Gender things first, because I can report on those more easily. Ready? Here I go.
Bad news first. I found out yesterday, as the last Thing in a long line of Things so far to hit me on my holiday (which have proven to be ultimately sanity-shattering, especially when timed so expertly), that the referral onto the NHS pathway – which I thought had happened in March – has not been done. My GP referred me to the mental health service for assessment by an NHS psychiatrist in November, and I got a (rescheduled) appointment in March, which lasted no time at all, and where I was told that there were no problems and the referral would go ahead. I knew there were long waiting lists, so I hadn’t expected to hear from them for months anyway, but apparently they’ve not received any of my paperwork. So that’s something I’m going to have to chase up; whoopee for incompetence everywhere. Anyway.
There have also been problems with my injections – although there’s been a glaringly obvious correlation with stress which doesn’t need explaining – where I’ve found it harder and harder to self-inject as time’s gone on. I’m not remotely needle-phobic, nor am I any more pain-phobic than anyone else – as far as I know – and I never had problems to start with, until uni started again. Then I started having problems; it took me longer and longer to psych myself up, and last time I couldn’t do it without help. I know why – it correlates with stress, and I could probably set an equation to it, which has been worsening steadily as uni’s progressed. But that’s another post for another time. Point here is that I’m working on it. There’s no way in hell I’m letting myself go backwards permanently. A lot can be said for stubbornness. So there.
So that’s that. On to happier things. I actually have some, which should count as a Happy Thing in itself, as far as I’m concerned.
Surgery. It’s been researched, and I know what needs doing and when, so it’s just a matter of setting a date now. I meet the criteria for top surgery on 30th June, then I need to obtain a letter confirming it, and then I’ll be off to Brighton – haltingly, twitchingly, phobic-ly off, of course – some time this summer to rid myself of those unmentionable alien shapes.
That’s all I can manage for the moment. I promised myself I’d post as soon as I had the time, but I’m doing less-than-brilliantly. Trigger warnings for food related issues under the cut (also, I’m explaining my current mental health, so please don’t bother reading if you don’t want to!).