My heart is just breaking

Pham Thin Tra My

It is believed (according to this article) that the young lady pictured above, Pham Thin Tra My, may have been one of the unfortunate victims of the horrific discovery of 39 bodies in a refrigerated container in Essex this week.

Having read in the article of her last texts to her mother my heart just bleeds.

May the angels cherish her and the 38 others for eternity, and may all the fires of Hell rain down on those involved in people smuggling.

If you are out there and thinking of trying to make use of that method to gain access to another country, please don’t. It isn’t worth the risk!

In a state of shock. Good shock!

Those of you who know me well will be aware that I have struggled financially for many years, my only personal income being some meagre pensions which I had to draw out many years too early in order to survive after my accident almost 13 years ago.

That is about to change.

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Finding the good in the bad

Even though it’s been very mild on the whole, it has been a very long and lonely winter. Severe bouts of depression have been interrupted by our transgender group meetings, visits to my nephew’s place afterwards, and the occasional coffee with friends. For all of these things I am particularly grateful.

The past week to ten days has been a complete roller-coaster of emotions, for various reasons, but this past weekend I managed to feel a blessing on the edge of calamity and it has given me a new perspective.

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A non-hairy man who can, sort of, cook

Sometimes it can take a while for the obvious to come along, slap you in the face, and say “Listen to yourself, stupid!”. Well today I finally listened.

A few months after my “day of revelation” as to my true self, some five years or so ago, I confided in a dear friend online that I felt the need for “a man”, and very soon after that a transman did come into my life.

He is still there, although our relationship has moved on from what it was, and I wouldn’t be without him in my life. But what I also have in my life is “wifey”.

“Wifey”. Now there’s a word!

To say that things between wifey and myself are somewhat difficult would be an understatement, and earlier today my brain finally slapped me in the face and woke me up as to the main reason why.

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Desperate for the knife, but not where you’d think

Well here’s a blog post I didn’t expect to be writing during this lifetime.

I went for a coffee with some friends yesterday evening, and during the conversation I showed them the problems I have with my feet. These are numerous, (the problems, not my feet), but the main non-medical issue is the size of them.

In order to be able to get ANY footwear on I need to buy a UK size 13, (EU 47, US 14, CM 31.5) and, because of the high instep and circulatory problems I have, a wide fitting is also needed.

This makes buying Men’s shoes really difficult, and women’s shoes virtually impossible, something which really jerks up the dysphoria rating.

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